His First Lady
he whispers into my ear, a cadence of love that has my heart singing.
Then, all at once, I crash over the edge, dragging him right along with me.
We clutch desperately to each other as we both cry out.
In the afterglow, Miles spoons me, his arms wrapped securely around my waist.
We’re both cooling down, though the sweat clings to our bodies. We’ll need a shower soon. Or perhaps Miles will want another round. He does like to prove his stamina during our nights together.
“I’ve been thinking,” he says, “That we should postpone our wedding until after the election.”