I lay in bed, languidly stretching out with a contented moan. Warm half-memories of my dreams flit across my mind as I revel in the comfort of the downy mattress and light, silken sheets. A low rumble of thunder and the powerful smell of an early morning rainstorm flood my room through the open window. A perfect morning to sleep in. A tingling sensation finds my hoof sliding down my taut belly. I bite my lip and arc my lower back slightly. Turning my head to the side, I bite down on my pillow and get a mouthful of my tangled mane. Thoughts of strong wings, gentle hooves and nipping teeth fill my sleep-hazed mind.
I don't hear the door open, though I do catch the sharp gasp, and my eyes snap open to take in my sister's wide, scandalized eyes, her hoof raised to her mouth.
Oh hell. I feel myself blush hotly in shame.
It's been four years since I had moved officially into the Carousel Boutique with Rarity. Four years since our parents moved off to "seek