And then he said…

That feeling you get right after a hot hot shower after a long day at work, and you carelessly rub a towel to get the most of the water off you, because you are so tired and want to get in bed. Grab an old soft cotton t shirt, and a tube of body cream, and head towards your side, so grateful that you made the bed that morning. Pull back the covers, and almost burst into tears because the sheet is fresh and smooth, hundred thousand thread count cotton, white and clean. That first slide of bare skin against soft fabric, texture that is so fine and yet present, and you let your back arch as you work out the cramp that settled in early in the morning and then just stayed like that neighbor who gossiped. And you loosen your hair tie, and your hair just explodes over the pillow, the skin of your temples just sighs as it relaxes and let’s go of the tension headache you were nursing all day. The quiet snick of the cup of cold water on your bed stand, made just right with two ice cubes floating in room temperature water. Turning off the lights and your eyes just mush into the pillow as does your nose and you are suddenly enveloped in a cocoon of darkness. His hand smoothing the line from your neck all the way down to your butt, scrunched up as you stretch every group of muscles like a graceless cat. That whisper of breath, as you feel that first kiss on your neck and it tickles and you giggle and groan, not today, you are too tired, it was unthinkable that you move even one muscle. The slide of a tongue up the tender skin behind your ear, the finger down the soft folds, the reassurance that you won’t need to move at all, not even a tiny little bit, the rush of breath as his teeth graze your lobe firmly, nipping right at the edge, fingers slipping right over the ridge, thumb circling lazily, tongue tracing the curled up rim of the ear and his voice rough as it growled. And then he said…