I want you in the morning.
I want you at first light when the bed is streaked with shadows and your eyes are soft and dark and heavy. I want you fresh from sleep, so warm and not yet ready for the shock of the shower or the trill of the kettle.
I want you naked and soft in my hand, feeling your anticipation grow as we kiss and cuddle, pushing you to the edge of desire. I want you breathing heavy and dripping sweat as you cleft my body with your body, splitting me open and pouring yourself into me. I want you completely, as dawn warms the sky and burnishes the city around us, copper, pink and gold. I want your smell on me, the mushroomy musk of your cock rubbed into my skin, anointing me with your scent, leaving me breathless and marked as yours.
I want your hands in my hair, nails scraping my scalp as you twist your fist into it, teeth in my back. I want you whispering your needs in deep concentration, your voice molten and soft when the last spasm rolls your eyes back.
I want you without words, just your lips parted as you quake with pleasure.
I want you every morning.
I want you.
I have always been delighted at the prospect of a new day, a fresh try, one more start, with perhaps a bit of magic waiting somewhere behind the morning.
~ J. B. Priestley