Solitary moments

She moved through the house with nothing to do but wait. The sofa caught her when she finally sat. Her fingers skimmed the fabric at first, then pressed harder as her thoughts slipped away. She pictured her lover coming in, taking over. That image alone set her hands moving under the lace, pushing the delicate straps aside. She spread her legs a little wider, heels still on, and let two fingers circle where she was already wet. The blonde hair fell across one shoulder as she leaned back, breath catching, panties tugged low enough for her touch to find skin. She kept going, slow then faster, chasing the heat that built between her thighs until her hips lifted off the cushion and she came with a soft, shaky sound.