I am awake before I choose to open my eyes. I can hear the thunder rolling through the sky, rain pattering the ground hard, flashes of lightning through my eye lids. This is what I call a perfect storm. My body can tell it is not quite morning, even with the storm it is still too dark for it to be time for me to wake. So why am I waking? It is then that my body processes the soft touch of his hand on my hip. The sensation on my thigh still lingers from the trek up my body. The feel of his hot breath and soft kisses on my neck.
“Good morning my love” is whispered, he knows I will hear it.
I lose myself in the fog of exhaustion and passion. I refuse to open my eyes, to fully allow myself to wake for I want to live in this dream. I wish to feel my way through the mess of sheets and find his lips with my lips. I crave to allow our bodies to tangle and intertwine as the storm makes its way through the core of me.
His touch tingles my skin with every rain drop, my heartbeat can be heard over the thunder. Flashes of lightning allow me to see glimpses of the desire in his stare. I will not be able to weather this storm. Each clap of thunder, each wave of passion breaks down the wall. My structure is weakened.
I will not be able to weather the storm that is this man.
Fishing In Stilettos 