Quiet night

On nights like this the house stays dark. Miela walks in barefoot, drops her bag, and feels the ache start between her legs. No plans tonight, just the quiet and the heat that won't leave. She peels the dress off, climbs onto the sheets, and closes her eyes. Her hand slides down slowly. Fingers trace her own skin, dip lower, and sink in. She stays like that, hips moving, breath catching, every stroke feeding the next. The room is silent except for the wet sound of her working herself closer, legs tightening, toes curling hard against the mattress.