The Rose

She lay sleeping in her hammock,
the sun beating against her skin.
 She just relaxed there
enjoying the peaceful moment
she had so few now that her husband had gone.

The delicate smell of tender sweetness of her roses
flitted through the air and tickled her.
She drifted with the light fragrance
as she remembered that first night.
He had taken one single rose
 held it under her nose
 inhaling the bouquet of a fine wine,
she could almost taste the seduction in it.

He trailed the flower lightly down her neck,
over her ivory shoulders. He slowly allowed it to dip further down,
circling her breasts.
Her nipples forming hard peaks
as the delicate petal skimmed past.

 She shivered from the sheer thrill of torture of it .
 He continued his path with the rose down her ribs,
"She loves me, she loves me not... " he whispered.
 She whimpered, feeling the need growing into a hot ball of desire.

He continued to trail the bloom down, to the soft triangle of auburn curls and down her thigh.
She opened for him as he gently stroked back up to that warm moist heat.
 He leaned in and inhaled her,
 her sultry scent mingled with that of the rose he held in his hand.

 He brushed the velvet of the petals against her throbbing center
causing more ripples of pleasure run through her body.

Feeling his warm breath on her skin, she sighed his name.

Her eyes popped open.
Her body throbbing from the memory of it.
Then her fingers brushed something next to her thigh.

A perfect white rose.