Page 71 of Meadowsweet and Marigold
"You're incredible," he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to her inner thigh. "The most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
Slowly, careful not to hurt her oversensitive flesh, he withdraws his fingers. The loss of fullness makes her whimper, her body reluctant to let him go.
Meadow sits up, adjusting himself in the driver's seat, his own breathing ragged. His fingers glisten in the fading light, wet with evidence of her pleasure.
A wild curiosity seizes Marigold then, an impulse so primal and unexpected that she acts before she can second-guess herself. She reaches for his hand, bringing his fingers to her lips.
Meadow's eyes widen, his breath catching as she opens her mouth and draws his fingers inside.
The taste is strange — tangy and salt-sweet, earthy in a way that should be off-putting but somehow isn't. It's the taste of herown desire, her own pleasure, captured on his skin. She runs her tongue between his fingers, cleaning them thoroughly, watching his face as she does.
His expression is a study of restraint being pushed to its limits, jaw clenched tight enough to crack walnuts.
When she releases his hand, Meadow groans, a sound of pure, undiluted need.
He lunges forward, capturing her mouth in a kiss that borders on desperation. His tongue pushes past her lips, tangling with hers, sharing the taste of her between them.
The intimacy of it —tasting herself on his tongue, knowing where his mouth has just been— sends a last, weak pulse of pleasure through her spent body.
They kiss until they're both breathless until the shared taste has faded, replaced by only the familiar coffee-and-mint flavor of Meadow himself.
When they finally part, his forehead rests against hers, their ragged breathing the only sound in the quiet car.
"Well," he says finally, a smile in his voice. "That wasn't exactly what I had planned for our first date."
Marigold laughs, the sound bubbling up unexpectedly from her chest.
"Is that what this was? A date?"
"It is now," he replies, pressing another gentle kiss to her lips. "Though I had pictured dinner first, maybe a movie. Not...this." He gestures vaguely at their disheveled state.
"I'm not complaining," she tells him, suddenly shy despite the intimacy they've just shared.
"Neither am I," Meadow assures her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "But next time, I'd like to do this properly. On a bed, with space to really show you what I can do."
Her whole face is red which makes him chuckle in return.
The promise in his words sends a shiver through her, despite her body's temporary satiation.
"Next time," she agrees, the words both a promise and a question.
Meadow's taunting smile is enough of an answer.
Clarity washed over her like cool water while Meadow’s fingers brushed against her skin, no longer igniting wildfires of sensation but leaving whispers of warmth in their wake.
The white flowers on her dress seem altered somehow as if the fabric itself has been transformed by what transpired beneath it.
"How are you feeling now, by the way?" Meadow asks, voice still rough at the edges but threaded with concern. His eyes search hers, looking for regret or discomfort. “Not as heated?”
"I'm..." Marigold pauses, surprised by the truth she finds. "I'm good. Better than good, actually. I can think straight and not feel…frazzled."
Not just physically satisfied —though she certainly is, her body humming with the aftereffects of pleasure— but mentally clearer than she's felt in weeks.
The constant anxiety that's been her companion since arriving in Willowbend has receded to a distant murmur rather than the usual persistent shout. Her thoughts flow in orderly procession rather than the chaotic tangle she's grown accustomed to.
"You look it," he says, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "There's color in your cheeks but not overwhelmingly taking your entire face with flushed urgency. Though it’s better than usual. You’ve lacked color prior, aside from when you do strenuous duties around the ranch, of course."
She touches her face, feeling the warmth beneath her fingertips.
