A Wake Up Call
I had chosen my attire with a subconscious intent that morning. I slipped into a pale pink nightgown, a piece of lingerie I hadn’t worn in ages. The fabric was soft, yet it had a peculiar way of making my nipples peak, leaving me feeling sensitive and exposed. It was almost innocent in color, but the way it clung to my curves felt anything but.
When my husband returned home from his night shift, the room was still dim. He slid into bed beside me, his skin chilled from the morning air. I instinctively pressed my back against his warm torso, molding my body to his. As always, his arm draped across my waist, his hand instinctively finding my breast. The moment his fingers brushed against my hardened peak, I felt a jolt of electricity shoot through me.
I decided to play a game. I remained perfectly still, pretending to be deep in sleep, wanting to see how far he would go without my active participation. His touch grew bolder, his palm cupping me firmly as he began to knead the soft flesh. I let out a soft, unconscious moan, a sound that only served to fuel his desire. He leaned in, his breath hot against the nape of my neck, whispering my name with a hunger that made my toes curl.
The pretense of sleep vanished as I arched my back, pressing myself fully into him. I turned in his arms, meeting his gaze with eyes wide and wanting. The morning light began to filter through the curtains, but for us, the world outside ceased to exist as we lost ourselves in a passionate embrace.