Dessert

Dessert

Ruddy, ripe and, now, waiting,
she'd willingly been draped over his shoulder,
feet lifting from the cool linoleum, toes curling,
hair pooled between his denim covered thighs.
Cherry wood of the Shenandoah chair
driving into the tenderness of her back,
arching her nearly as far as he already had

with his care calloused hands, palms spread,
tracing languorously from her quivering belly
up, down, she wasn't sure which.
Her eyelids fluttered in the weakening,
silk dusk light from the kitchen window.
Held and bound tight by her desire
the world receded, reduced to nothing but

her impatience, as he stretched his arm
forward then slipped the retrieved red slice
of summer down her heated, gleaming skin.
Lips twitched, skin prickled as he watched her signs,
a current of slow warm sparks sliding along
the trail of strawberry, following it deep
into her wanting mouth, to quiet her need.