I brushed my thumb against her nipple, bending it, then I leaned down to suck it. She wove her fingers through my hair. I tasted the shower water on her, the tinge of soap. Steam still fogged the room.


“Jonathan,” she whispered, “I’ll miss the plane.”


“No, you won’t.”


I drew my tongue down her belly, flat and tight, stopping at the navel bar she still wore for me, then traveled down between her legs. I bent one of her knees and put it over my shoulder, giving my mouth access to her.


“I haven’t packed yet,” she said, but I knew I had her. 
I opened her lips with my thumbs and licked her clit slowly, tip to taint and back again, tasting the fresh, clean skin and clear, rushing fluids. 


“Pack fast,” I said.
She’d be gone for a week. I wanted her before she left.