contentas she lay there on the futon,
naked in the warm summer night,
her clefts and curves
dressed only in shadows,
her scent wrapping around him,
calling him,
every bit as much
as the sleek rise and fall
of her breathing,
and the beating of her heart.
He let his hand, strong, calloused, claw-tipped
seek out the curve of her arm
with a surprisingly delicate touch,
run along the line of her shoulder,
cup the round softness of her hip.
His white ear twitched
as she gasped a little
as his fingers left her hip
to follow the vee along her pelvis
cupping the warm nest of curls
hidden in their shadow just for a moment,
trailing up,
circling the sweet cup of her navel,
ending at last
with the weight of her breast
laying heavily in his hand.
“Can’t sleep?” she asked,
resting her hand on his.
“Whatever gave you that idea?” he replied,
planting a line of butterfly kisses
warm, wet,
and full of promise
from her ear to her shoulder
Rolling over,
she kissed him on the nose
and laughed.
