#meredith moore

“How badly do you want me?”

Your skin warms at the words. Filthy images roll in your mind-all of which surround Meredith. There is one particular image that you cannot swat away.

Meredith and you locked together like a puzzle, undulating against each other as you rode out a long overdue orgasm. She’s panting above you, hands on your breast as she chases behind you. Your name stutters on her lips--

You’re bought back when cool breath fans at your ears. Light kisses litter your collarbone like the sensation of butterfly kisses. She grabs at your breast squeezing and massaging your nipples before she takes a rocky hard pebble in her mouth and sucks. Your back arches, as Meredith’s hair skims across your chest. Her perfume intoxicates you, the scent of patchouli and musk caressing your nose.

Her skin glistens in the candle lit room. Her green eyes glimmering in the dark like a cat in heat, as she leans back appraising your disheveled look. Her strong thighs have you trapped between them, and her manicured hands roam all over you as if you were her possession. You pull at the silk restraints on your wrists, desperate, yearning--.

“Meredith, please.” You let out a strangled gasp, but all she does is chuckle.

“Now, now,” she skims her fingers down to your belly drawing circles on the inside of your thighs. You’re unbearably wet, squirming and squeezing your thighs together to try and alleviate the pressure. “don’t give me that look. I told you, I can make all of this go away. All you have to do is tell me,”

You were at Meredith's flat, a place that had become dubbed as the villa of pleasure. Although you still didn't understand why. Despite the image that Meredith tried so desperately to keep up, you bet that no one would have guessed that she was –

"MC, would you be a dear and throw those pizza boxes in the trash? It's starting to stink the place up."

--a complete and utter slob. Old food containers were scattered in her kitchen, filling almost every counter space. Dirty dishes were piled so high in her sink that you feared the whole thing would come collapsing down by one bad breath.

Her living room wasn't any better, although living specimens were designated for the kitchen (you thank GOD for that). Shoes, random scraps of paper, and other miscellaneous items scattered the wooden floor. The couch was packed with what you hope is clean clothes.

"That is it!"

Your shout makes Meredith raise an eyebrow delicately. She's stretched out on the couch, like some plebian model in nothing but a sports bra and shorts, with a magazine in her hand. Her typically curled hair was damp and slick against her head as a Thin Mint dangles between her lips.

"Meredith, your house is on the borderline of needing to be condemned! There's nowhere to sit ---"

"I did offer my face."

"You have trash everywhere, and --" You stop as you think you see something skitter across the living room. "Was that a fucking rat?!"

Meredith looks to where you're pointing and rolls her eyes. "I don't have rats."

"How would you be able to even tell underneath all of this??" You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. "Look, Mers. Your house is a mess; inhabitable would be putting it loosely. What you need is a good deep cleaning and--"

"And who do you propose to do the cleaning?" She munches away on her cookies, barely looking up from her magazine.

It's your house! You want to yell but know that it's hard to reason with her when she gets into one of her moods. "Why don't we have a little competition? Whoever makes the better cleaning playlist will have to clean up."

"Cleaning playlist?"

"Yes! Pick songs that make you feel things, anything. It just has to help you keep moving." And hopefully clean.

She sits up now, a pile of cookie crumbs tumbling onto the floor. "Hmmm, interesting." She stretches, her muscles flexing as she twists her body. "Fine, and what does the winner get?"

You blink, "Uh, not having to clean your trash fill of an apartment?"

Meredith licks her lips, bringing her fingers up to her mouth as she sucks the remaining chocolate from them, "I want something else. How about the winner gets to request anything from the loser for a week?"

You frown, "On top of cleaning your mess?" You think about it and then agree, sure that you'll be able to edge her out with your superior choice of music.

You two separate to different parts of the apartment. You in her bathroom and her somewhere else. Looking at the mess in the toilet fills you with more vigor to win.

Twenty minutes pass by, and you two meet back up in the living room. You play your mini playlist, a selection from your favorite genre and artists—the moods ranging from sentimental to aggressive to moody and then happy. Meredith looks barely impressed when you're finally done but nods.

She goes onto her phone and plays her list. It’s nothing but love songs, singers crooning as they profess their eternal love. Some range from soulful and deep, others light and wispy, the only thing that was constant was the message. That their love was eternal. She’s watching you closely, as you try and look everywhere but her. Your ears-tinged red.  “’Cause I’m never gonna do anything to hurt you or mislead you, I love yooouuuu~” 

The last song makes you feel… weird like you were witnessing something foreign and new before you. And you know she knows.

"Well?" She said expectedly, her eyebrows raised as a smirk grows on her face. "What did you think?"

You clear your throat, trying to find the words that were seemingly stuck in your throat. You cough, "Not bad." Your voice sounds hoarse, and you're mad at yourself for sounding so…Smitten. "What even was your inspiration for this?"

She shrugs. "You were. You said to pick songs that make me feel things, and these songs articulate my feelings for you.”