Late Night Confessions
There is something intimate about the quiet hours when the house settles and the world goes dark. It is in those moments I find myself thinking about desire, about the way my husband looks at me, about the hunger that lives in both of us.
The kids are finally asleep. The house is quiet. I am alone in the dark with my own thoughts and my own body.
I think about him sometimes when he is not there. About the way his hands feel against my skin. About the sound of his voice when he whispers things no one else in this town would ever say to me.
Sometimes I wear something just for him. Something soft and comfortable that he can push beyond. Something that makes it clear I am not in charge anymore.
These are the hours I keep for myself. The hours where I let myself be honest about what I want, who I want it from, and how badly I need him to take what I am offering.
There is no judgment in the dark. Only desire. Only the quiet understanding that I am his, and he is mine, and that is enough.