Maybe next time

She reclines on the bed, and I’m put in mind of a cat, basking in a sunbeam, except I am the sun and her glow is all aftermath.

I let my fingers graze the warmth of her skin, across the gentle round of her stomach, the slight dip of her sternum and up, between the swell of her breasts. She sighs, and stretches, arching toward my hand with a smile. I glide from one nipple to the other, teasing them, enjoying her sensitivity.

Her eyes meet mine with that familiar fire in them.

“Round two?”

I nod. “Should we untie him? Let him participate this time?”

She sits up, soft gaze assessing the trussed up man at the foot of the bed.

“Maybe next time.”

 

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