This morning was so hot. I can’t wait for more.
The second was more forceful than complimentary:
Stay in bed. I’m coming home for lunch.
I laughed. This was part of a fantasy he had about my schedule. When we first started dating he thought that a freelance schedule meant that I would always be available to him. He talked about lunchtime rendezvous — coming home to pillage me and then leaving me naked there while he returned to work. I filled him in on the reality of deadlines and the hours of uninterrupted focus it took to produce something really good. He got it, but it was like telling a kid Santa isn’t real. Today was going to be his redemption. Also See: How to see a friend nak*d in 12 devious ways
I have to admit, it was hot to snuggle back into his linens, smelling him, waiting for his return — to be instructed not to dress. It was the kind of thing where I might usually touch myself and think of his hands instead of mine, but his return was coming so soon that I didn’t, I just waited for him and smiled my cat-who-got-the-mouse smile when he walked in, already unbuckling his belt. I was wet for him, more than usual — it was all the waiting. He felt like a stud, I could tell, as I crawled across the bed towards him, still naked from the morning sex, and climbed on top of him. I rode him without even unbuttoning his pale blue work shirt. I wondered if it would smell like me for the rest of the day. Also See: Top 17 highest paid actors in the world 2015 – See who’s #1 (With Pictures)
I didn’t go home after he returned to work. Usually I would have let myself out long ago, gone home and showered and have several hours of work at the corner coffee shop under my belt. I used his shower and didn’t bother dressing, simply draping his t-shirt over me while I helped myself to his much fancier computer. I had to save time somewhere, and he was probably just going to undress me again when he got home anyway. (He did).