The loud clap of thunder jolts me from my sleep. I look at the clock. 3 a.m. Too early to wake up. I turn in the bed, hugging a pillow, willing myself back to sleep. Another rumble, punctuated by a sharp crack informs me that slumber will elude me for now. I shift to my back, my eyes adjusting to the flashes of lightning illuminating the room like a strobe.
It is an intense storm.
You stir in your sleep at the next big burst, but you have always slept deeper than I. You sigh and push your head in the pillows as the lightning plays in the dark room. I listen to the rain whipping at the windows, and to your breathing, low and steady.
My attention has shifted now, from the storm to your warm body next to me. I can feel the electricity from the storm fill the air as I gaze at you sprawled naked on the bed. Gently, so as not to disturb you, I reach out to touch you, the heat that radiates from you makes my hand tingle as if there were a storm all it’s own between my fingertips and your supine body.
The tingle spreads, and I feel a familiar tug between my legs.
“Don’t be selfish,” I think to myself as I turn to face you, my hand moving to caress your shoulder. You stir again and reach for me, pulling me into your embrace. I slide closer to you, my arm curling around your neck as I push myself against you. I stop then, and remain still.
I will not wake you. It is enough that our naked bodies are entwined. I close my eyes as the storm continues, each flash of lightning intensifying my longing for you. I cannot help myself – I push my hips into yours, and I can feel that the storm has affected you too. Despite my good intentions, I slide my hand over your chest, then lower still, across your stomach. You catch your breath, and pull me to you, your face nuzzled in my hair, as your lips kiss my neck.
“I’m sorry …” I say, mustering what innocence I can. “The storm … Did I wake you?”
“It must have been the thunder,” you say, just before your lips claim mine.
Our passion rises with the intensity of the storm, and our kisses become more urgent. Familiar touch, we know each others bodies so well, but the storm adds an unexpected element of excitement, as if Mother Nature herself has devised the weather just so we will rediscover our deep passion, this very night. Breathing hard, you push me onto my back. Your beautiful, sleepy eyes, illuminated with each burst of lightning, gaze down at me.
“Yes!” I cry, as I open myself to you. The wind, the thunder, the sound of the rain beating on the windows, provide a symphony and rhythm for our lovemaking. You, and I, and the storm reach a simultaneous crescendo.
As the storm recedes, lying next to each other, languorous, hands clasped, I sigh contentedly in the dark. I turn my head and see, in the light of a distant lightning flash, your lips curved in a smile.
“That was quite a storm,” I say.
“I like thunderstorms,” you say, reaching out to pull me into a warm embrace. I snuggle against you, and feel sleep overcome me as I listen to your deep even breathing.