Women Seeking Women #68

She waited. December nights crept in slow. Her skin still remembered August, his weight, the slow slide of his thigh against hers when the sheets got hot. She hadn't touched anyone since. That changed when he found her standing at the window, naked except for the thin shirt hanging open at her hips. He came in without speaking. His palm found her breast, cupped it hard, dragged a thumb across the nipple until it stood. She bit her lip. His breath warmed her ear. One knee nudged her legs apart. Two fingers traced the inside of her thigh, then sank between the damp lips they found. They curled. She exhaled hard. He pumped twice, pulled them free, and licked them clean. By the time he pressed her forward against the cold glass and drove into her from behind, she had both palms flat and her mouth open. He kept a rhythm that matched the drip from the faucet somewhere down the hall. Skin slapped skin. Her breath fogged the pane. The night didn't care. Neither did he.