When Morticia finally found solace in sleep, death began to prey on her dreams. This time, he did not show himself. Instead, he created images that were familiar to the dark-haired beauty in order to lure her into his trap. Morticia fell victim to the beautiful images that were projected in her mind. As Gomez's doppelganger seduced her into a sultry tango, Morticia's sleeping form walked out of the master bedroom.
Her body moved through their house while her mind remained blissfully distracted by her dreams. She felt so close to Gomez, yet when she moved to gaze into his eyes, their dance would gain intensity shifting her focus.
The sweet smoky smell of his cigars permeated his clothes, Morticia smiled as she realized there was probably a lit one smoking from his breast pocket. She pressed her head against his cheek, enjoying the warmth of his olive skin. Delving into his slicked hair, her nails began their cat like kneading of his scalp. His hold on her tightened in reaction to her action, their bodies now inseparable.
"Oh, Gomez" Morticia sighed in content.
Devouring her neck, his mouth descended upon her at the sound of his name. His hands were threatening to leave the constraints of their stylistic positions, desperately aching to feel her soft flesh under his palms. It was a dance they knew by heart, teasing each other with every beat yet trying to restrain themselves. They each had their reliable techniques which claimed dominance and rendered their partner desperately helpless.
She was lost in the endless affection. As soon as she began to indulge in the pleasure coursing through her nerves, he would set a new part of her aflame. Morticia's senses were overwhelmed by passion, leaving her feeling weightless. Desperate for his lips, her fingers sought out his face.
"Mon cher" she cooed before their lips crashed against each other. Gomez was savoring her ruby lips, pulling on the fat flesh with his teeth. The pressure of his weight was making her knees buckle beneath her, but her darling husband kept her supported while he maneuvered her pliable body to deepen their kiss.
"Je t'aime, mon sauvage" she whispered in his ear, pleased to hear a low growl before he stole her lips again. As Gomez lifted her into his arms, he hungrily caressed the length of her leg.
She didn't know how they made it to their bed, but she was too consumed by lust to question it. They ravaged each other's flesh, tumbling across the bed with unadulterated desire. The ecstasy of le petite mort was just a moment away, her entire body tensing in anticipation. Then without warning their love-making stopped, and Morticia felt a cold possessing her body. All she could feel was cold, it stole her speech, feeling and consumed all her thoughts. A muddled voice was growing louder, calling her name in desperation.
Morticia struggled to open her eyes, her body weak and shivering. Through her dark lashes she could see the silhouette of her husband in the dark night.
"Gomez?" her voice was barely audible, but it exploded in his ears. Draping his robe over her frame, he lifted her into his arms. Morticia could barely react, all she knew was the cold.