Sexy slumber

A tender hand claimed me from sleep. Blonde hair spilled across my stomach as her mouth made slow, exact studies of skin still warm with night. Each pass of her tongue erased another thread of the dream. When her lips finally opened around me, I understood: what I had woken from was the lie, and this—the careful suction, the hungry little hum she gave each time I twitched—was what waited on the other side of sleep.