Midnight

She was tired. A long day at work, a strenuous workout session in the gym, a full fledged cooking session later, and a visit to an old friend later, all she wanted to do was collapse into her bed. And not wake up for two days.


She left him working at his workstation in his study, kissed him goodnight on top of his head and dragged herself to their bedroom. A minute later, she was asleep.


Her dreams were fuzzy, violet satin slipping away to the floor, his eyes, a random song playing in the background, the shocking sensation of cold water on her skin, and the welcome rush of warm moonlight on her bare body. She turned in her sleep and her dream turned too, from royal colours to dark browns, the brown of her blanket as it was swept away and she felt smooth fingers cupping her breasts.


She smiled at the man who brought her lips to meet his, as her hands rode up his chest, grabbed his shoulders. A throbbing guilt consumed her at the same time as she struggled to realize whose hands these were that she was allowing on her body, when her man was a few feet away, working.


She partly also knew that she dreamt and her pleasure at this dream broke a dam of fresh guilt on her again. She struggled to open her eyes as his hands swept down to her hip, riding up her legs to find her womanhood. She awoke with a start, panting and felt his hands dragging her down again. She glanced at him, relief breaking over her as she realised he lay next to her, his hands on her breasts again, carressing, squeezing, sucking, licking, teasing, her breath catching in her throat in short gasps as waves of pleasure overtook her senses.


His hands travelled back to her womanhood as she pushed the guilt of not recognizing the familiar contours of his body. She clasped his shoulders as he climbed over her, his fingers between her lips, her tongue drawing lines on his smooth skin. He scooped his fingers out of her eager mouth and led them to her wetness, checking her readiness.


She was moist beyond measure and he tickled her, teased her, sliding his fingers in and out, drawing wetness with every stroke. He loved the wet sound of his fingers pulling out of her flower, climbing down then to taste her sex.


She tasted of musk and her perfumed bath salts. He lingered there, taking in her scent, smiling in anticipation for he knew what she would go through in a little while, the sounds she would make, the way she would egg him on to enter her, the way she would moan in pain, her hands clutching his hair, pushing his mouth, his tongue deeper and deeper until she would surrender and come, her breath shallow, her face aglow, his manhood hard and ready to pleasure them both again.


He drove his tongue in then, flicking her lips, tasting the new wetness that emerged, while her hips threatened to shiver out of control. He pinned her legs down with his hands and then...


He woke up, his manhood hard against him, his breath shallow and raspy, beads of perspiration on his forehead, his hands clutching the sheets crumpled up around him. He glanced to his side then, and saw her.


Asleep. A smile on her lips. That glow on her face. One hand limp on her breast. He caught his breath, gazing at her. He had had a long and tiring day. He curled up against her and kissed her forehead.


"Goodnight, baby."