The Flames In Mind 3 Passionfruit Or Passionate

It made me wish to stand still and admire it all with my many special someones at my side. The crisp air making gooseb.u.mps protrude against my clothes should make me shiver, instead it's the bearable type of cold.

However, I believe the best feeling for me during that spare moment, is to run like the wind blow roughly through my platinum hair making it the cape behind my back. The crunch of the ground beneath my soles, each having its symphony to play. Deep ragged breaths tickle my lungs seeing them take form in evaporating air.

My blue eyes with specks of green search in haste of what I choose to be the safe-haven, whether it be a ghastly cave or a tree with dangling a lone branch. It's that small area I can call home; only if I let it be – let nature grow its green tendrils and take its shape of million forms.

It's close but not quite; touching that feeling I crave to discover in the land of nature. The towering tree's rustling leaves map out my sounds to when and where the wind blows.

It's everything I wish to be in at this very moment because right now I might be dead, officially. I could be losing my mind by how I quickly sprint from the front door to the stairs.

Nothing like nature here with open courses of several paths to take. In this house it's just one straight destination to the stairs – with multiple jig jags to dodge any standstill furniture. It's not like I can run into a wall as a shortcut, although it would make everything easier right about now.

What is not easy is trying to win a fight against my mother, this morning was only a small surface I scratched. After founding out I was to be home after for this random girl, it gave me the notification on why things didn't take a turn for the worse this morning.

Thank G.o.d.

Scratch that, I'll be thanking G.o.d if she doesn't get hurt.

Once I made it to the stairs, my breathing hitches as I take deeps of air through my parched throat – man I'm out of shape. I didn't pay attention at first not noticing the half-opened box stuffed with clothes at the bottom of the stairs, until now.

My legs feel a bit jelly as I grip onto the colored honeycomb railing and travel my way up the stairs – shirts and jeans scattered on multiple steps. As I reach to the top, sudden relief spreads through me seeing the girl kneeling, picking up her things that escaped from the fallen box.

I adjust my stance so that I was standing on the edge of the stairs in case I needed to make a dash for it. It worked with my mom.

It's clear she hasn't noticed me yet for she is still cleaning up the mess – I take advantage of this moment to absorb her. Not like a stalker. I'm not one but you get my point.

It's code for checking out.

Shush.

She seems to be very short, I'm guessing 5'0 – she's quite pet.i.te. Perfect size to be the little spoon...

Did I seriously think of that? I shake the thought away studying more of her eye-catching features.

Her long raven hair flows as if the Niagara Falls took place with its thick waves. Her front bangs hang down from her forehead from gathering her things on the floor. Not realizing a few moments ago until now, tips of her hair is dyed in light grey.

Her ivory skin illuminates her raven hair with such boldness – blacker than coal; makes it harder to pull my sight away and not marvel its glamour. It blends well, enhancing a presence she excludes.

It's the kind of presence that makes you think it's best to know her from afar; if attempted up close you'll get a strange aura around her. Although, I don't think she's strange, she could be.

I take a small step back, balancing my feet on the stairs as I try to move my prying eyes down which might not have been the best solution for, they grew a centimeter wide.

Due to bending over, her t-shirt is hanging down leaving enough s.p.a.ce between her pale skin and the green fabric to show off her small perky b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

I gulp, feeling my cheeks redden.

s.h.i.t, s.h.i.t, s.h.i.t. She is not wearing a bra! I mean they're small, the cute kin- wait, no. f.u.c.k that.

I unconsciously let out a frustrated growl from my rambling thoughts. It was loud enough for the new girl to hear since she lifts her head pique by the source of interest.

In a split second, all the air escapes my lungs by the mossy green orbs pooling with bewilderment, hypnotizing my blue ones. I feel an odd tightness constrict in my chest, my heart rate increasing immensely by the notice of those rosy plump lips.

They have the perfect Cupid's bow, sharp yet elegant. Slowly dragging my eyes up further, she has a little b.u.t.ton nose.

I glance up at her eyes again.

The intensity of the mesmerizing green from the new girl is sucking me in, making me oblivious to all surroundings and the power trip of a headache concocted by a weird sense of familiarity.

All in all, it was enough to force for my feet to lose balance on the stairs by a stumbling slip. I heard a sharp intake of breath from her mouth as a shriek erupts from the depths of my throat.

Before I could register what was even happening, I felt a hand forcefully tug on my shirt and a faint smell of coconut waft under my nose as I see my body, uncontrol of, lean forward.

This time a screech – banshees calling – elicits from the girl's mouth as she falls backward and I, on top of her.

I hastily brace for impact, stretching my arms both, trapping her head in between them. A loud thump resonates from when she hit her head as my hand's slams down next to it. To say I am okay is an understatement, that f.u.c.king hurt.

I hid my pain with a silent grunt, our faces some inches apart.

I am more worried about her seeing she is groaning and wincing in pain, eyes hidden by hooded lids and rosy lips parting with short pants. Her hair – seemingly thick-like – is sprawled everywhere as if it's decorating the floor with watercolors, the grey tips more vibrant than before.

You want to lick them.

Wait, what?

I tightly close my eyes to dispel the thought. I can't think of this. The chest pain isn't getting better nor is the headache.

I am unsure of what to do, my body is frozen in place; too scared to move. The more logical thing to do would be to help her up and get an ice pack.

My hand says otherwise.

Warily, I proceed my left hand to move her front bangs from her eyes gingerly; it feels so soft, yet a rough texture against my fingers.

Her porcelain skin is chilled having me rethink about that ice pack. My fingers continue to trace her skin softly as if it's a delicate piece of gla.s.s I can easily shatter with any form of strength.

I cup her cheek in my hand like I was telling her everything is okay. Rubbing the pad of my thump underneath her closed eye, the feeling in my chest swells, connecting the faint freckles that cross over her nose from one side to the next.

They're the stars of the constellation I watch for in the deep night sky.

Eyebrows furrowing from the pain, her long lashes flutter, enticing green eyes become present to the world again; an overwhelming desire grows in the deep pits of my stomach.

It makes my fingers twitch.

What is this?

I glance down at her plump red lips.

Red like a rose with temperamental thorns.

It forces me to swallow the frog h.o.a.rding in my throat — the unanswered question along with it. The pitter-patter against my chest is thumping through my ears as I see the girl lick her lower lip then bite it; teeth ripping into flesh.

f.u.c.k me.

My head snaps, losing control of all inhabitations.

I kiss her hard, capturing her ample bottom lip in between my own. The feeling of them is so raw and forbidding that it produces a carnal shudder through my spine.

I felt her tense up but no more than a second later, she relaxes – slow but unsure; I could feel a slight tremble protruding my skin.

Heat flushes through me when she reciprocates the kiss, arching her body into mine adding onto the already igniting pressure. Her arms wrap tightly around my neck as I graze her lips with my tongue to request entrance.

She blatantly refuses, clamping her lips shut still hastily moving against my own. I growl from the back of my throat, nibbling on her bottom lip and then tug at it. It worked for it gave her enough willpower to slightly part her lips, a small wiggle room.

My tongue clashes with hers, easily winning with aching dominance taking my time to feel all crevices.

She tastes faintly of watermelon; juicy and succulent. I suck on her muscle eliciting a tiny whimper behind a shy moan. It makes me blush knowing I could do something so forward.

All the temptations firing in my nerves don't make it easier feeling nimble fingers tug tightly on my hair. The slight pain only makes things hotter as my lungs begin to beg my morals for air.

I take this to start leaving hot, slick trails of kisses from the corner of her lips to sharp katanlike jawbone down to the crook of her ivory neck. I reach a spot above a pulse point under her ear and roughly suckle the coconut scented flesh; gave it a small nibble while smoothing it out with my tongue.

A throaty moan induces from the girl's mouth, quick short pants coming thereafter. The sound is music to my ears as the heaving of her chest is felt against mine. Her braless b.r.e.a.s.t.s are easily melting my resolve further down the drain.

My hand that is cupping her cheek unconsciously travels down to her the narrow valley between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, just briefly hovering her feverish and flushed creamy skin. My fingers feel the warmth hugging them as I warily palm them against her chest; mostly covered by her green t-shirt.

After a few deep heaves, the sirenic mounds has me l.u.s.ting. Next thing I know is I'm palpating by their size, shape and oh G.o.d the perkiest nipple stabbing the center of my palms.

Giving them a delicate squeeze earns a stifling groan from her damp locked lips that are ghosting next to my ear.

Feeling impulsive in hopes of hearing more of the sonorous gasps, I take the bead between two fingers and give it a considerable pinch and twist while nipping the spot on her neck after stimulating it with slick kisses.

An intoxicating guttural moan from the dark end of her tunnel is echoing throughout the halls of the house. Her fingers cling to my hair narrowly sc.r.a.ping my scalp; noticing from the corner of my eye her pale freckled cheeks are cherry red and pillow red-wine lips tempting to be devoured.

While I continue to fondle the girl's soft breast, I caress the jawline G.o.d created so sharply, with feather kisses only to try and capture the heady lips again.

By being too enamored to the girl, I never paid attention to the feel of her daft fingers slipping out of my rough-up hair, travel down to get a good grip on my shoulders.

As her nails dig into my skin, she gives me a hard shove and the sound of a razor-sharp slap resonates – the next thing I see is the wall on the right, a stinging feel a.s.saulting my cheek.

And then everything goes black.