crawling slowly from the cradling arms of sleep and readjusting to life vertically, she scanned the room around her for the man she'd fallen asleep next to. not in the bed and the door surprisingly ajar she called his name, once, and not too loudly. met only with silence she fell back against the pillows in a strange and beautiful mixture of relief and puzzlement. pulling the pillows around her body as a mock womb, she tried to recall him saying anything about needing to leave early, about not being able to stay. but the thought slipped from her as seamlessly as he had and she closed her eyes to the sound of the pounding surf outside her window. all else soon became silence. silence within her and silence without. silence, save the surf.

in a couple hours she would truly wake. she would shower and dress and eat and all the other mundane duties of preparing for the world. but here, in this quiet cocoon of her room, she existed simply as skin on sheets. stray hairs clung to her face, sealed with the kiss of dried sweat from the night before. her bare leg tested the bed, moving from radiated warmth trapped in sheets, to the coolness of emptiness. he must have been gone for hours as the bed held no memory of his warmth. just as well, as she enjoyed the space, and the cool, and the quiet.

she let herself surrender to the softness around her, the silken sheets, the velvet duvet. she was entranced in the sensuous textures. she was amazed at how the same sheet felt so different on the back of her leg as it did the small of her back. inches of skin, unending different. she allowed herself to test the sensations over her arms, stomach, feet and breast. she slithered slightly, contacting as much of her as possible, becoming absorbed in the experience.

she traced thin lines of fingernail across her bare stomach, ticklish and tense. a wave of sensation took life of its own and traveled over her, in her. her nails grazed over her hips, following the gentle curve of bone from her hip to the fleshy hiding spot of her pubis. she remembered his hands here, his lips here, his kiss opening and warming her. she slipped her middle finger where his tongue had been and teased herself with the memory, the physical visioning of his fingers on her thighs. the covers seemed to play understudy in his absence, with the gentle teasing touch upon her skin.

she was still wet with him, from him, maybe for him and she smiled. the thought of how his hair had fallen over her thighs in a ticklish whisper sent her hips swaying slowly. her fingers searched and stroked, replicating his midnight movements just hours before. she warmed, and a thin veil of sweat soon came upon her. she traced and explored her every silken recess and fold, enticing waves of heat and pleasure. eyes closed, breathing quickened, she found a rhythm matching her racing heart. her back began to arch as she came closer to a rapturous release, a cool breeze startling her eyes open but never slowing her dedicated hands.

he was here, watching her from the doorway. flush with excitement, she saw his growing desire and returned her eyes to hold his gaze, almost daring him to stay or join. giving no indication of the right course. a curious combination of indifference and desire. with the reflex of a swimmer, two steps and he dove into her with flawless entry. he reached the depth of her and resurfaced only to plunge again and again. she gasped and allowed herself to drown in flooding sensation.

soaked and breathless form their passion play, she laid beneath him, synchonizing her slowing breaths with his, relishing the pulsing of her around him, him within her. there were no cool spots on the sheets now, every inch a testament to their tumult. the air was thick with their combined scent. and the room was silent, save his breathing in her ear and the sound of the surf outside her window.