Reunion

She got home late Saturday night (the trip ended being four nights, not three), like at 11:30 pm. I was sitting in the living room, drinking a glass of wine, waiting, knew when she'd be home, as she turned her Find My on when she was at the airport leaving. I felt nervous, anxious. I'd missed her terribly, but part of the missing made me want her even more.

I heard the garage door open then close, heard the door to the house open, then close, her suitcase on the tile floor. "Emily," I whispered. 

"Sara," she said, abandoning her suitcase and walking right to me. She sat down on my lap, hugged me as tight as she'd ever hugged me. I smelled her hair, her face, kissed her. "I missed you so much," she said.

"Emily," I whispered again. 

We hugged, cuddled, hugged. I could tell she was tired, but the smile on her face was genuine. "I'll tell you all about it later," she said, kissing me again.

"I know, love, I know."

"I'm tired."

"I know that, too," I said. "She'll want to see you as soon as she wakes up."

"I know."

We hugged again, just held each other. "I'm tired," she said, took my hand.

"Too...too tired?" I asked, timid.

"I'm...we...before we checked out..."

"I know," I said, red faced.

"You're so naughty," she touched my face.

"I can't help it," I said, bashful.

"I know, I know. I really am tired for too much, but if you want to before we go to sleep, just be gentle, I'm sore."

"I want to," I said, "I want to."

She was tired, but she lay on the bed. I kissed her gently, her mouth, her neck, her breasts, her stomach, moving down, drawn to her. Her sweetness was mixed, musky, something masculine mixed with her. But I didn't care, relished it, enjoyed it.

My way of reclaiming her. Not just accepting, but in the small way participating, validating, enjoying. Tasting her and licking her, I reclaimed her. Tasting what was left of him, I validated the relationship. 

She was mine again. Mine.