a dream

At midnight, she wanted his hands all over her. The tall, hard tower of his body behind hers. His hands cupping her breasts, his lips on the pulse between them. How she ached for his filling in every pore of her being. His fullness which would obliterate her own waiting emptiness. She wanted to let go and lean into his power, his superiority, his answers that were infinitely better than her own. She tasted his name on her lips, savoring its sweet poison. Her love for him, what would surely be her undoing. But she wanted to fall, fall down, down, down, and let him catch her.