Missing Touch
Lilah likes to watch him sleep.
She sits on the edge of the bed and stares at his chest raising and falling as she remembers the good old days, where she would lie next to him after a moment of passion. She closes her eyes and thinks of her legs wrapped around his waist, her nails digging into his back as he thrusts into her. She remembers ' impossibly loud' screams, a bit of male stubble against her bare breasts and thighs, a scar she likes to lick.
Just memories now.
She's ok with the memories, but misses his touch.