Page 107 of Geordie

“Your tits are sensitive,” he muses, varying the pressure. I close my eyes from the sensation and breathe it in. “I could probably make you come just like this.” He’s giving me a pinch.

I moan when his thumbs roll my nipples. As good as this feels, my ass is aching for him to enter me. “Yeah, I'm sensitive there, and a few other places you haven't discovered,” sinking into the feeling of his touch. “Another time you can get me off with your mouth on my tits and, by the way, your beard could be a sex toy all by itself.” I hazard a glance at him. “Here's an idea. Why not finish what you started? Baby, we're all lubed up and ready.” I wiggle my ass a bit to make my point, the water making ripples.

He gives a laugh, the water ebbing when he trails kisses down my back until he straightens up. His hands sweep over my ass cheeks, his cock bumping at my hole, teasing me. With one hand guiding, he slips in, and I gasp. It's more than a tight fit, but the sensation overrides any fear as I relax, spreading my knees wider. He thrusts inside of me, the water lapping at the edges. He takes deep breaths as he hits a rhythm. I've stopped bracing with my hands and now lean on my arms, elbows out as he repeatedly slams into me. The water roils around us with his motion, water spilling out of the tub in waves. I'm too deep in the sensation of him in my ass to care. His hand comes to my clit, strumming the sensitive nub while he continues thrusting. With my head on my arms, I raise my ass higher to give him better access. My orgasm is no longer a distant whisper. It's coming fast. “Oh Jesus, Geordie–fuck, that's good.”

“Come for me, Ceasg,” he grits out. His finger continues to stroke my clit, our breaths labored, every movement in sync with his drives. My arms are ready to fall from bracing against the tub. My breath catches. I tense as the pleasure holds me, screaming as I release.

Geordies slips both hands back to my ass cheeks. He's driving hard, me struggling not to slip down into the water with exhaustion from holding steady. Another wave hits the floor, the water reaching the edge of the terra-cotta tiles, threatening to reach the plants. He can't be far from his release, but my grip is slipping. He might have to finish with me submerged. I steel myself, ready to see this to the end. “You've got this, baby,” I urge, his breath coming in gasps. “Spill inside me. Come for me, Geordie.”

His fingers dig into my ass, and I wince from the pain. He's slowed his pace, but he’s thrusting deep. I hold my breath, waiting for him to do another drive, but this time, his body stills in the throes of his coming. He mutters something deep and guttural in the Gaelic, then he releases his hold. He's quiet for a few long moments until his body lies prone over mine, his arm around my waist to keep me from sinking down. I listen to his panting in my ear and delight at the kiss that follows.

The floor is a mess, with bits of froth everywhere, even settling on plants. The water is cool and there's a strange mingled scent of the outdoors with soapy lavender; it looks like we had a water fight in the courtyard and lost. Geordie rolls to his side, pulling me to him, about half of the water in the tub we began with. “That was a good way to christen your house,” grinning at me. “I suggest we continue doing the baptism in each room, including the garage. We can do that in the truck.”

I push out of the tub first, reaching for a towel, my body slick with oil. Geordie stands and I see there's even less water in the tub than I thought. I hand him a fluffy bath sheet. He runs the towel over his chest, looking around. “Good thing I bought the house. They'd have charged us to clean this mess, and most likely we’d be banned from unescorted house tours.”

Chapter fifty-two

Life with Lily

Geordie

LilyandIhavebeen living together for several months. Her intermittent stays at my apartment during our respective recoveries made it easy to take up residence in this new house. Lily and I spend time together in the mornings and before bed, like a real couple.

In the beginning, I'd drive her to work and back when the weather was bad so she didn't have to brave the elements. She told me I shouldn't, but I could see she was pleased I made the effort. When I was waiting for her in the parking lot, I'd get a pure rush seeing her tired smile as she walked towards the truck after her shift. The once-in-a-while of me picking her up turned into a nightly ritual. No matter what the weather, I'm there waiting for her.

Our relationship is in a strange place. We're a couple, but not a couple, because our primary goal is to conceive and co-parent. It’s a limbo that doesn't seem to let us cement our relationship until we have a child.

I told her I wanted to court her when we discussed trying again after the miscarriage. Lily agreed to the idea, not really understanding what it means. She doesn't know the wee kindnesses I do for her every day are part of it. Those considerations I show her say I'm serious, more serious than grand gestures.

We fuck like wild rabbits, and if we were, by now we'd have a brood of wee bunnies running around our feet and needing a bigger house. I thought I'd drive her mad, with me wanting her every minute, but this lass is wanting it as much. Many times I wake up with her hand on my tadger, wanting her morning sex.

As one month blends into another, with no announcement of a pregnancy, there's an underlying tension that's surfaced. Neither of us has talked about conception, but I know it weighs on her. I've seen negative pregnancy tests in the bin, and it tears me apart that her fear of not conceiving because she's too old might be returning.

Date night has arrived and Lily is diligently scrubbing a pot at the sink, her hands in purple gloves. I stand behind Lily, my body pressing against her, making a nuisance of myself. I slip my hands under her shirt and it’s magic to find no bra to take off. She moans as I tease her.

“No fair,” she drops the pot, her hands bracing the sink. “I can't touch you.”

“That was the plan,” as I nibble at her neck. She backs up, her bum grinding my cock.

“You're the one that’s not fair, lass, I just wanted a feel of your bonnie tits and now you're suggesting more.”

She grinds me again with her perfect round bum and my cock gorges with blood. The challenge is too tempting so I spin her around to face me. Her lips twist in a smirk and she’s rocking on her toes to kiss me as she hooks her wet, gloved hands around my neck, and warm soapy wet patches form as water drips off her fingers. I break the kiss. “You've ruined my shirt. You'll not get away with this.”

She tries to kiss me again, but I don't allow it.

She tilts her chin up, looking at me. “What's a big, strong man like you going to do about it?” She’s running her wet, gloved hands over my shoulders and down my arms.

I pull her hands off. Dark, wet patches of water and soap are on my dress shirt. She giggles, scooping up more suds from the sink, then leans into me, planting her hands on my chest. “There,” she says, pulling away to leave two wet spots.

“That's it. You've pushed me too far. I'll not be disrespected, ya wee witch. Strip!”

She gives me a mock frown, then hangs her head. Dark hair falls like a screen as she snaps off her gloves and drops them on the floor. She pulls her shirt over her head, jiggling her tits a bit, exaggerating the move, probably as a show of defiance, but mostly for my benefit.

Lily stops, looking up at me as if that's enough to satisfy my request. “All of it.” I point to her skirt. “I want you naked.”

Her chin juts out, and she has her hands on her hips. She looks sexy and silly at the same time. I stare at her unmoving, crossing my arms to show her I'll not back down.

She huffs, mumbling under her breath as she slips out of her shoes. I stop her when she reaches around her waist to unzip her skirt. “Get your panties off, but leave the skirt.” She flips up her skirt, revealing blue panties. She continues to hold the skirt up as she pulls down the panties, and I'm given a flash of pussy before she lets it fall back onto her hip.

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