The 5:49 A.M. Wake-Up

The world was that soft, hazy gray that exists just before dawn.  The alarm clock on the nightstand read 5:49 AM, giving me eleven more minutes of peace.  Beside me, my husband was a warm, solid mountain, his breathing a deep and steady rhythm that I could feel in my own chest.  I was cocooned in the soft, worn cotton of his t-shirt, a familiar scent of him clinging to the fabric.  Underneath, I wore a pair of black lace cheeky panties, a delicate contrast to the casual shirt, the intricate pattern feeling like a secret I was keeping just for myself—and for him.

A slow, insistent heat had been building low in my belly, a quiet thrumming that had pulled me from the edge of sleep.  It was a gentle ache at first, but now it sharpened into a distinct, demanding need.  I shifted, the movement causing the lace of the soft panties to brush against my sensitive skin, sending a jolt of awareness through me.  The thought of waking him, of pulling him from his last few minutes of rest, flickered through my mind, but the desire to share this warmth, to have his hands on me, was stronger.

I rolled onto my side to face him.  The faint light from the window outlined the strong line of his shoulder and the dark stubble on his jaw.  I leaned in and pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss to his bicep, my hand resting on the warm skin of his chest.

He stirred with a low groan.  “Hmm? You okay?” His voice was a gravelly whisper, thick with sleep.

“Everything’s more than okay,” I whispered back, my lips brushing against his ear.  My hand began a slow descent down his stomach, my fingers combing through the trail of hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his boxers.  “I just woke up.”

His breath hitched as my fingers curled around him, finding him already hard and ready.  He let out a shuddering sigh, his hand coming up to cup the back of my head, his fingers tangling gently in my hair.

“Woke me up, too,” he murmured, rolling to face me.  His eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, met mine in the gloom.  He pulled me closer, and his lips found mine.  The kiss started slow, a sleepy, gentle meeting, but it quickly deepened, growing hungry and urgent as his body caught up to mine.  His tongue swept against mine, and a soft moan escaped my throat.

My body responded instantly, the thrum inside me escalating into a full-blown fire.  I pressed against him, my hips rolling instinctively, seeking the friction I craved through the thin layers of cotton and lace.  His hand roamed down my back, dipping low to cup my cheeks through the panties, his fingers tracing the edge of the lace where it met my skin.  He pulled me flush against him, and I could feel exactly how much he wanted me.

“Please,” I breathed against his mouth, the word a needy plea.

He didn’t hesitate.  With a fluid motion, he rolled me onto my back, settling himself between my thighs.  He pushed the hem of his t-shirt up, his hands skimming over my ribs.  He lowered his head, his mouth finding one peaked nipple through the thin cotton.  He teased it with his tongue, the wet heat searing through the fabric, and I arched my back with a sharp gasp.

His hands moved down, hooking into the sides of my panties.  He slid them down my legs, the delicate lace whispering against my skin before he tossed them onto the floor.  The cool air on my heated core was a shock, but it was nothing compared to the heat in his gaze as he looked down at me.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp.  He lowered himself, his lips trailing a path of fire down my stomach.  I knew where he was going, and my entire body tensed in anticipation.

He settled between my legs, his hands gripping my thighs, pushing them wider.  And then his mouth was on me, his tongue finding the slick, sensitive heart of my ache.  I cried out, my hands flying to his hair, my fingers tightening as he licked and sucked with a practiced, devastating expertise that knew exactly how to unravel me.

The tension coiled tighter and tighter in my belly, a white-hot knot of pleasure.  “Oh, OH,” I chanted, my hips rising to meet his mouth, chasing the release that was just out of reach.

He slid two fingers inside me, curling them to find that spot that made me see stars, and that was it.  The knot snapped, and pleasure washed over me in a blinding wave.  I came with a sharp cry, my body convulsing as he continued to lick me gently through the aftershocks.

Before I had completely come back down, he was moving up my body, his lips claiming mine in a deep, possessive kiss.  I could taste myself on his tongue, and it was intoxicating.  He settled his hips between my thighs, the hard, thick length of him pressing against my still-throbbing entrance.

“I need to be inside you,” he groaned against my mouth.

“Yes,” I breathed, wrapping my legs around his waist.  “Now.”

He pushed into me in one slow, deep stroke, filling me completely.  I gasped at the exquisite stretch, the feeling of rightness.  He stilled for a moment, his forehead pressed against mine, our breath mingling in the dark.

Then he began to move, his strokes slow and deliberate at first, then faster, harder, driven by a primal rhythm.  The bed creaked softly, the only sound besides our ragged breaths and the slap of skin against skin.  I met him thrust for thrust, my nails digging into his shoulders, my body rising to meet his.

The pleasure built again, a slower, deeper wave this time, cresting higher and higher with each powerful stroke.  I could feel him getting close, his movements becoming more erratic.  He reached between us, his thumb finding my clit, rubbing it in tight circles.

That was all it took.  The second orgasm crashed through me, even more intense than the first.  I cried out, my body arching off the bed as I shattered around him.  With a guttural groan, he buried himself deep inside me, his body shuddering as he found his own release.

We collapsed together in a tangle of sweaty limbs and heaving breaths.  He rolled off me, pulling me into his arms, my head resting on his chest.  His heart was pounding a frantic rhythm against my ear, slowly beginning to calm.

“Wow,” I murmured, my voice still shaky.

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through my entire body.  “Yeah. Wow.”  He pressed a soft kiss to the top of my head. “Sorry I woke you.”

I tilted my head back to look at him, a smile playing on my lips.  “Don’t be.  I’m glad you did.”

We lay there in the comfortable silence, our bodies cooling, the air thick with the scent of sex and satisfaction.  The ache was gone, replaced by a pleasant, bone-deep languor.  My eyelids felt heavy, and just as I was drifting back to sleep, the harsh buzz of the alarm clock filled the room.

He groaned, reaching over to slap it silent.  “Morning,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction.

“Morning,” I whispered back, closing my eyes again, a contented smile on my face.