Jo's surprise

Jo surprised me today when I walked in. Chestnut hair framed her face instead of the blonde I knew. It suited her. Looked expensive. I ran a hand through the fresh strands, wrapped them around my knuckles to check the texture. She smiled, sure of herself. Good—confidence makes a woman beautiful, but I still wanted proof that everything else had survived the change. Later, when she leaned over the back of the sofa wearing nothing but that new shade, I pressed in close and felt her heat. I let my fingers drag down the curve of her spine before pulling her hips back to me. She took me easily, same tight grip, same wanting sound. It turns out heat doesn’t care about the color of hair, only the hunger beneath.