Instead of sugar you’re craving for cherries. Freshly picked, still warm from the sun, with stalks still attached so you can feed them to her. See that dark red juice spilling over her lips when she bites in to the sweet flesh, smell the mixed scent of her and the berries without the sickening, cold cloud of ice and snow she’s dragging everywhere with her nowadays. Not a morning goes by that you wouldn’t be able to smell the essence of Bobby in her.
You grit your teeth and keep taking her out, drive in to the city a nauseating experience, stench rolling off from her almost strong enough to make you think that Drake’s with you in the car, but it’s worth it. The longer you hang out with her the harder it gets for you to smell the foul stench. You don’t know if it is because you’re growing accustomed to it, or does her own scent grow stronger when she’s away from her husband. That really doesn’t matter. The place you usually take her to clogs your sinuses completely.
You take a sip from your coffee and watch her lips puckering as she blows to her steaming mug to cool the liquid before tasting it. She closes her eyes and leans backwards, and you can practically taste the piece of chocolate now melting on her tongue in your mouth.
Scent of herbs, spices, coffee and chocolate combines with her, all fragrances complimenting each other deliciously. She picks up yet another confection; one filled with creamy dough, and bites a small nibble out of it, then starts suckling the sweet filling, digging it out with her tongue.
It’s the most obscene, and at the same time perhaps the most innocent sight of your life. She’s sated and giggly from the sugar, eyes blazing from insane amount of caffeine in her system, cheeks flushed, and that pink tongue covered with sticky white substance.
You wonder how she would react if you were to lean closer and kiss her. Suckle that creamy filling from her tongue, taste the chocolate and coffee from her lips. Would she pull back? Would she stop seeing you because of that? Would it be wrong towards her? Or would she melt on your arms and moan in to you like you have pictured on countless nights when you’re laying on your bed and she’s sleeping with Bobby?
Suddenly you feel her hand on your face, fingers brushing over your lips, and it’s almost impossible not to nibble them.
“You got some chocolate on you…” She whispers, sucking the tip of her index finger, blushing furiously, but meeting your gaze over still steaming mugs of coffee.
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