The Morning After

I slide back into bed, the sheets cool against my skin where Elena's warmth lingers. She murmurs softly in her sleep, freckled nose twitching, but doesn't wake. Her body curls instinctively toward the empty space I've left, toned thigh draped over the pillow. The faint scent of her arousal clings to the air, mixed with the rain's clean sharpness from the window. I drift off quickly, the night's power settling deep in my chest like a coiled promise.

Morning light filters gray through the blinds when I stir awake. The bed feels too empty beside me. Elena's gone, the sheets rumpled and cool on her side. A dark, crusty spot stains the fabric right where her hips had been—dried cum, stark against the white cotton. My cock twitches at the sight, the evidence of her restless need through the night.

I sit up slowly, scanning the nightstand. A folded note sits there, her precise handwriting looping across the page.

"Had to slip out early—needed to shower and change before work. Last night was incredible. Haven't felt this young, this alive, in years. Coffee soon? Text me. -E"

A grin pulls at my lips. No app, just raw pull. She's hooked, naturally. I crumple the note lightly in my fist, tossing it aside as I swing my legs out of bed. The apartment hums quiet, Sarah's presence a distant throb across the hall—like she's waiting, body taut with last night's commands. Work looms, Elena's green eyes flashing in my mind amid the code and cubicles. But first, coffee. And maybe a tease for the redhead neighbor. The day stretches open, mine to weave.