In my bed

I threw a party for just the two of us. Verunka kept bitching about the cold and nudging the thermostat higher every chance she got. I had a better idea. I pulled her in, wound my body around her soft little frame, and covered every inch of her with mine. Skin to skin, nothing between us. Heat bloomed fast. My hands traced the curve of her back, slid lower, squeezed her ass, drew her closer still. Her nipples tightened against my chest. She let out this small, surprised gasp when I pressed my thigh between hers and rocked, slow and deliberate. Her legs parted on instinct. The room stayed cool, but we didn’t. Every breath grew heavier. Sweat gathered where our stomachs met. I kissed the hollow of her throat, licked the salt there, felt her pulse jump. My fingers dipped between her legs, found her wet, worked her open with lazy strokes until her hips started chasing my hand. She came with a quiet, trembling moan, clutching at my shoulders like I was the only thing holding her up. We kept going until the sheets were damp and the air between us shimmered with heat.