Kayla Cumsalot 1844-33-CANDY ext 357
Days turn to weeks, and weeks blur into months, and we get caught up in a routine. Wake up, go to work, come home. Force ourselves to work out, have dinner, then pour ourselves into bed. Rinse and repeat. But when I’m with him, time stands still. It waits for us. As if nothing could be more important than the space we share. It’s like we could fall back through time.
I walk into his bedroom to find him already in bed. His body is beautifully sculpted but tense. The monotonous routine has taken its toll, and he’s in need of release. The soft cotton night dress I’m wearing brushes against the tops of my knees as I near the side of his bed. His gaze has tracked me since I entered, but he hasn’t moved. Always so patient. He savors the details. My hands rest over his pecs as my left leg swoops over his hips in slow motion to straddle him.