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The space between us dissolves, and we’re kissing, our arms and legs entwining; being tangled up together comes naturally. They grab my hips and roll me on top of them.

I sit up for a moment, surprised by the shift. They’ve been coming to me every night, but I never end up on top like this.

They’re sprawled out beneath me, allowing me to see them completely.

I lean over them and graze my body over theirs, my nipples hardening beneath my nightgown. They sigh as I kiss them again, still moving on my hands and knees to feel them.

I bring my kisses down to their chin and neck, crawling backwards to unbutton their collar and lick the hollow between their delicate clavicles.

They arch their spine, backing up an inch.

“Do you not like being touched?” I ask. They always pull away after I’ve had my release. It seems like they only want to touch me. “Am I not doing it right?”

“No, that’s not it. I love it when you touch me.”

“Then what’s the problem?

“It’s been a very long time.”

I tilt my head, thinking back to some of the comments they’ve made throughout the years. “What about the time with the tavern keeper’s wife? Or that orgie with the pixies?”

“I only told you those stories to cheer you up,” they say. “They always seemed to snap you out of your slumps.”

“Your stories annoyed me to no end!”

“Shh.” They laugh. “We have to be quiet.”

I lower my voice. “How long has it been?”

Their head caves into the pillow like they’re trying to disappear. “There were a few women back when I was about fifty, but I didn’t really feel a spark with any of them.”

“That was two hundred years ago,” I whisper-scream. “Why didn’t you try again?”

They rub their hands around to my lower back, cupping the top of my ass. “I guess I don’t really feel that need unless I really know somebody.”

“You really know me,” I point out.

“I do.” Their lower lip falls away from their teeth. “Believe me, I feel it so much with you.”

“Then let me make you feel good too,” I say, but it sounds like a question as I trace a finger beneath the curve of their breast.

“Yes.” They lift their chest, giving into the sensation neither of us will ever be able to get out of our heads.

We’ve both cursed ourselves with this craving, and there’s no going back.

I unbutton their shirt and slip it down their shoulders. They shudder as I flick my tongue along their nipple, then scoop my tongue along the curve of their small breast, opening my jaw to try to fit the whole thing in my mouth. I lick all the way back up to the tip of their nipple, closing my lips around it as I use my hand to feel the hard plane of their abdomen.

Letting go, I plant kisses along the trail I’m making down to their waistband and use my teeth to untie the ribbons at the top of their breeches.

“I love how feral you can be,” they say, and I flash them a smile, still holding the ribbon between my teeth.

The knot comes undone, and I tug on the ribbons, unwrapping them like a present. I’m a greedy thing, filled to the brim with wanting.

I want to see every part of them. I want to explore their beautiful physical form. I want to wrap myself around them the way they’re always wrapped around me.

They kick their pants the rest of the way off and sit propped up on the pillows with their blouse falling around their shoulders.

Goddess, they’re stunning.