Page 52 of Her Reborn Mate

“Will,” I whispered. “Oh, Will.”

“You are everything I ever wanted,” Will said, and with that, his head disappeared between my thighs, and I was lost in a world of swirling pleasure as he licked me, kissed me, and played with me under my skirt. His tongue rolled down my pussy as his lips cradled my clit and drove me to an unexpectedly quick orgasm. Perhaps it was the ambiance of the place, or perhaps it was the romance of it all, but I was already in a horny mood the second we’d stepped through the room.

Now, he was on top of me as I lay on my back, kissing my belly, rubbing his hands on my boobs, and letting me hold him by his head. Will entered me with great passion, which didn’t hurt as I was already quite wet. Just as all aspects of him had changed for the better ever since the potion, so too had his lovemaking. I could feel more force in his thrusts and more vigor in his cock as he pounded me. This was a pleasure, as I had never felt before.

I closed my eyes and let my moans echo in the room, cradled in Will’s arms as he fucked me. This was more than just lovemaking. This was something on a transcendental level. It felt like he was having sex with more than just my body. It was as if our souls were mating together.

He pulled and held me aloft, prodding his cock deeper in me while staring into my eyes deeply. It was all there, the relief, the ease, and the joy. I straddled him smoothly, allowing myself to ride his thick, hard cock all the way to a second orgasm.

And as I came, so did he. His frothing warm liquid gushed into me, filling me up from within. Panting, we both fell into each other’s arms and onto the bed, staring intently into each other’s eyes, letting our gazes speak on our behalf.

“I love you. Know that, forever and always,” I said.

“I love you too,” Will said, kissing my nose and then playfully rubbing his nose in mine.

It wasn’t before long that we fell asleep in each other’s embrace, only to wake up by the incessant knocking on our door. It was the bellboy telling us that evening tea was being served in the living room.

“Evening tea?” I confusingly asked Will.

“An English and Spanish tradition, one lost in American culture. I have a suspicion that the tea won’t just be tea. There will be scones and croissants and all sorts of baked goods waiting for us down there. Can’t you smell it?” He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. “It smells wonderful.”

Just as he had said, there was a grand table in the living room along which six different couples sat, drinking the tea that the butler was pouring them, helping themselves to the cakes, pastries, and biscuits on the table.

“Please welcome. We have been waiting for you,” an elderly lady with white hair in a bun waved at us with one hand while fanning herself with the other. “Why don’t you come and enjoy some tea?”

I looked at Will, who winked at me and said, “When in Rome…”

Chapter 22: Will

If that lavish evening tea was an indication of what was to come, it was an accurate one. At night, when dinner was served, it wasn’t done in the dining room as we had expected. It was done out in the open, on the back lawn by a well-lit pool as a violinist serenaded us. The meals were something out of a dream.

The lamb stew was exquisite enough that I had to get another helping. It paired well with the red mulled wine I was drinking. Alexis chose a clear white wine instead of red. It made sense, given that she was eating fettuccine alfredo. I had a little bit of a taste of the fettuccine. It was thick, creamy, and had delicious chunks of mushrooms in it. A true gourmet dinner, indeed. It was a rather long event, spanning over an hour and containing several dishes. The stew and the fettuccine were just two of eight courses, not counting dessert.

We tried the meatballs with gravy, the mutton kebabs, the fried fish, and the vegetable and fruit salad. It was all so wonderfully made that not at any point did we feel like we had overstuffed ourselves.

This entire dinner affair was not a silent one as I had expected. The six other couples who were seated along with the matron of this place happened to be very chatty individuals. Once the wine flowed freely across the table, their tongues loosened, and they started chatting with each other and us as they ate and drank through the night.

I learned that Jacob was a software engineer at Google’s New York office. He’d come here with his wife to celebrate their fifth anniversary. Another couple, Andrew and Bella, were tourists from Italy. They had finished their month-long tour across America and were celebrating their final night in America in this bed and breakfast. Sidra and Amir were two Indians who had just sold their first startup in Silicon Valley and were now relaxing for a few weeks before going back to that town and starting their second venture.

But by far, the most interesting couple was the one sitting to our immediate right. Jason and Brandy were two war veterans who retired from the British Army and decided to become adventure bloggers. They showed me their YouTube page and website, where they uploaded videos of their adventures in Egypt, Morocco, China, Japan, and Indonesia. I was entranced by their tales of courage and adventure, of how they’d braved the harsh climates, eaten the strangest cuisines, spent nights in dangerous places, and survived through it all to tell the tale.

“You must come with us the next time we’re going on an adventure. After this American leg of our trip is over, we’re going to Germany,” Brandy said.

“Will’s actually from Germany,” Alexis answered on my behalf.

“Oh, God, that’s so fascinating,” Jason said, squeezing my forearm.

“I used to be a maritime engineer,” I said, helping myself to dessert. It was the strangest tart that was both bitter and sweet. I couldn’t have enough of it. I poured some strawberry syrup on top of it and started simultaneously eating and telling my tale. “Of course, then I retired and came with my family to America.”

“To live the great American dream,” Brandy said, raising her cup.

Someone across the table said, “Hear, hear!” Everyone clinked their glasses in response.

“Dreams don’t have nationalities,” I said, raising my fork at Brandy. “Tell me. An astronaut sleeps in the space station, and a sailor sleeps deep in a submarine in the sea. What country do their dreams belong to?”

“Oh, it was just…I was just making a point,” Brandy said.

“As am I,” I said, smiling at her. “I mean you no hostility. We have all tied ourselves to this concept of land and country, and nationality. It’s rather unbecoming of someone as boundless as a human, am I right? You two should have an even better idea of it than I do. You’re originally British, yet you have traveled and spent more time in the rest of the world than you’ve done in Britain. I mean, here you are in America, dining with these fine folk. Would you say that you are British?”

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