Restless Heat in the Dark | Midnight Passion

Restless heat is exactly what consumed us that night, a fever that had been building since dinner and finally boiled over the second we stumbled into my apartment and I shoved him against the door, his hands already fumbling with my jeans as the only light in the room was the faint glow from the streetlamps bleeding through the blinds, turning everything into blurred shadows and the sound of our ragged breathing, and I remember how the darkness made every touch feel twice as electric, my fingers tracing down his chest while he bit my shoulder hard enough to make me gasp, then pushing me onto the couch where the cushions smelled like stale popcorn and his weight pinned me down as he whispered something filthy against my ear that I couldn’t quite catch because my pulse was roaring, but I didn’t need words because the way he moved said everything, slow and grinding at first, testing how far I’d arch into him, then faster when I clawed at his back and pulled his hair, and all I could think about was how hot my skin felt wherever his lips landed, from my neck to my collarbone to the spot right above my hip that made me see stars, and we didn’t stop until we were both slick with sweat and tangled in the throw blanket, panting into the quiet, that restless heat finally slinking away as I traced lazy circles on his damp back and felt his heartbeat sync with mine, a charged but fleeting escape from every thought that had been clawing at me all day.