Well, I couldn’t wait for him to see what I could be like when I wasn’t so wrecked, when I didn’t feel so raw and bleeding, which I had to say, I was feeling much better after last night. So much more, I don’t know… present? Solid? Here?
He returned to me in a few short minutes, bending at the waist to kiss me, pulling the covers away from my body. He helped himself to a handful of my chest, kneading my breast, massaging the ampleness of it and pinching the nipple between forefinger and thumb.
I moaned deeply into his mouth and he chuckled back into mine – the sound rich, the vibration decadent, the entire exchange sinfully delicious, like a slice of chocolate torte for dessert when you know you really shouldn’t.
“Come on, let’s get on with the day,” he said. “Feel like I should maybe give you a little break.”
He spanked my pussy lightly, sending a shock and a thrill through me and I let him pull me up and onto my feet, curling my bare toes into the fur rug at his bedside.
“Do you have to?” I squeaked and he laughed, head thrown back; a full-throated sound. I smiled, and he winked at me and led me across the hall to the bathroom which was steamy and inviting.
We made out in the shower like a pair of teens, his hands slick with my bodywash running all over me, washing me clean and turning me on. Likewise, I did the same for him, the sweet scent of my soap mingling with the earthy tones of his – not quite clashing, but definitely not very compatible. Mine smelled like a bright champagne, girly with a grapefruit finish. His smelled like rich earth, the forest after a rain, the loam on the ground turned up and fragrant with notes of cedar and musk.
I ran my hands over his muscular body, inked with tattoos of ancient knotwork and animals, over innumerable scars, slick and flat, tan of the relatively new and pale, pale white with age. Seams along ribs, gash marks and what I assumed had to be knife marks. Knicks and the like along his hands, rough with work and tears along his forearms.
“What are these?” I asked softly, finding my courage to ask.
“Fights, some,” he said with a sniff. “Others, accidents. Some from farm work.”
“This one?” I asked, running a fingertip along a tan line along his ribs, dotted to either side with punctures from stitches.
“Fight at one of our rallies over the summer,” he said. “Good fun.”
I hugged him close and looked up into his bright blue eyes.
“Your idea of fun and my idea of fun are two very different things, then,” I said with a faint smile.
“I live for the thrill,” he said, pinching his nose and wiping the streaming water from it and his beard.
“I just want peace,” I said quietly, the first misgivings beginning to stir.
He reached out and caressed my face, and I closed my eyes, turning into the touch.
“Then no worries,” he said. “I’ll protect you, do everything I can so your peace isn’t disturbed. I’m happy to take the heat.” He grinned as he said the last and winked at me, and I laughed slightly.
“I’m not sure that’s how it works,” I said.
“No?” he asked.
“No,” I said, drawing nearer and tipping my face up to his.
He brought his mouth to mine and murmured, “Well, I’ll figure it out.”
“Compromise, you mean?”
“Happy to, for you,” he whispered, and we kissed.
“Seems like I would be asking a lot,” I murmured when the kiss reached its natural conclusion.
He stroked my cheek, the barest whisper of a touch with his thumb and said, “I don’t give anything I’m not willing to give up,” he said. “I’m also not getting any younger, and if I’m going to keep up with this place, I’m going to need to slow down at some point.”
That I could buy into and I did, wrapping my arms around him and resting my forehead in the center of his chest. He held onto me, loosely, just letting me rest against him and soak up what I needed from him while the steam gently wafted around us.
When I shook myself as though waking from a dream, he smiled down at me and shut off the water.
“So, what do you want to show me today?” he asked.
“Show you?” I asked, taken a bit aback.