Find You in the Dark

from a dumpster. “Sorry baby. I know this ain't the Ritz.” I smiled. “I'll just keep my clothes on, it'll be all good.”
    Clay pouted. “Well, that's not exactly what I had in mind.” I playfully shoved him. “You are such a guy, Clayton Reed.” He kissed me loudly and patted my behind as I went into the bathroom to wash up. I was relieved that it was actually clean. The tub was stained but there were towels and a small, half full bottle of Suave shampoo. I rummaged through my bag to find my flannel pjs. Yeah, they weren't the sexiest thing I owned, but I hoped wearing them might make me feel better.
    I ran the water as hot as I could stand and stood under the spray. I used the shampoo to wash my hair and body. When I got out, skin pink from the steamy water, I felt a little better. I then remembered that in my hurry to leave, I hadn't brought any toiletries. No hair brush, no toothpaste. For some reason, after everything, that tiny detail made me want to burst into tears.
    I gripped the edge of the sink and took deep, gulping breaths, trying to get myself together. After a few minutes I was able to calm myself down. Using my fingers, I combed through my wet hair and then gargled with water. I put on my warm pajamas and left the bathroom.
    Clay was leaning back against the headboard, flipping through channels on the ancient television. He looked up when I came out and his eyes softened at the sight of me ready for bed. “Feel better?” He asked, watching me as I put my dirty clothes in the corner of the room.
    “Yeah. But we'll need to get toothpaste and stuff in the morning. I forgot to bring some.” I went to stand by the side of the bed, not sure I wanted to sleep underneath the gross looking comforter. Clay, understanding my hesitation, peeled the cover back. “The sheets look clean at least.” He remarked.
    “We're not going to get eaten alive by bedbugs are we?” I asked hesitantly before getting into the bed. Clay looked under the covers. “Well, I sure hope not.” I threw a pillow at him. “That's not comforting.” I said blandly. Clay grinned at me. “Come on, get in here, this room is freezing.” I climbed in the bed, sighing in contentment as I snuggled down into the sheets. At that moment, I didn't care if I was eaten alive as I slept, I was that bone achingly tired.
    Clay turned off the television and stood up. He slowly undressed, his clothes forming a pile beside the bed. In nothing but his boxers, he got into the bed beside me. We lay on our sides for awhile, just looking at each other.
    “Cute.” Clay smirked, fingering the collar of my pajama top. I rolled my eyes. “Sorry, I left my Fredericks of Hollywood stuff at home. I'll remember next time we decide to run away in the middle of the night.” I replied sarcastically. At the mention of what we had done, Clay and I both became quiet.
    The only sound in the dark room was that of our breathing. Ever so slowly, as if scared I might stop him, Clay reached out to touch my face. He gently traced my eyebrows with his fingertip, touching my eyelids, then running his fingers down to my lips. His eyes came alive with a sudden hunger and desire, but most of all love. My heart picked up as his hand dropped to my collar bone and he traced the curve from one side to the other.
    It was so quiet, I swear he could hear my heart beating. He dipped his hand down further, beneath the top edge of my shirt and cupped my breast. He closed his eyes as his thumb rubbed my taught nipple. He hissed a breath in through his lips as he felt my smooth skin and I moaned a bit in response.
    Clay opened his eyes. “Maggie?” He said my name as a question and I knew he was making sure I was okay with this. I nodded my head and leaned in to kiss him. The first touch of his tongue as it mated with mine was all I needed to get lost in the heady feeling he unleashed inside of me.
    With sure fingers, Clay unbuttoned my top and carefully removed it from my body. He continued to touch my breasts reverently, his breathing shallow as I arched toward him. Clay bent his head to take my nipple in his mouth, his tongue dancing over the sensitive flesh. I gripped the back of his head as he moved to my other breast.
    Clay's hand made its way to the waist of my drawstring pants. He slid his fingers under the elastic, making me shake inside. Gently, he pushed my pants down, moving them lovingly over my hips. His mouth traced down my body as he removed the