Morning. You're still sleeping. The chirping from the baby Robins in the nest outside the window woke me. Early Summer sun filters in through the closed window shade.
I lift my head, resting it on my palm, watching you sleep. Studying your exposed skin, tanned from the sun, creating a contrast, the darkness against white cotton. Wanting to trace the line of your jaw, down the side of your neck, across your collarbone, down the center of your chest. Further. Under the sheet that covers your hips.
Choosing instead to kick my legs free of the crisp sheet, I roll closer to you and swing my left leg over your body. Settling on you, knees either side of your hips. Feeling the warmth of your body, languid in sleep.
There's a smile on your face as you open your eyes to mine. Blinking the sleep from them, you stretch beneath me, arms coming up around my back. Fingers begin tracing circles on my back, up and down, the calluses on the tips scratching gently on my bare skin. I shiver, gooseflesh rising on my pale skin. Desire for you makes my nipples harden and anticipation makes me wet, achingly wet.
I give in to the impulse I had a moment ago, leaning over you, my long blonde hair a curtain over our faces, breasts pressing against your chest. Kissing your face, your neck, collarbone, returning to your mouth. Soft, early morning kisses, gentle lips until you lift your hips, and I feel your hardness beneath me.
Groaning, I grind my pelvis into yours, deepening the kiss, demanding more. Mouths together, gently, giving way to firmer. Tongues touching, entwining, sucking. You flip me easily onto my back, arms extended, holding yourself over me, lower halves together.
