Women Seeking Women #70

She climbed onto him the way a woman does when she's waited too long. Her knees settled outside his hips. The headboard creaked. February air slipped through a cracked window and cooled the sweat at the backs of her knees. She reached between them, guided him, and sank. Every inch pulled a sound from her throat—raw, broken, real. She moved slowly at first, testing. Then faster. Her palms pressed flat against his ribs. He watched the muscles above her navel tighten each time she rose. They found their rhythm and rode it. The sheets tangled at their ankles. When she leaned forward, her hair fell across his chest. He caught a strand between his teeth. She laughed once, low and filthy, then bit her lip and kept riding.