Morning butt in the hotel room

You catch a petite figure framed by pale morning light, the hotel sheets twisted low enough to stop your breath.

You take in the curve of those hips, small and perfect, rising like a slow question you desperately want to answer. You feel the pull of it somewhere deep, the way the light traces each soft contour of that bare ass with almost deliberate cruelty.

You wish you were in that room, close enough to press your mouth against warm skin, to feel that body shift and respond beneath your hands before the morning gets any further along.