Better Than Burroughs

Marin

I can’t sleep. I tried to get to bed early but it just didn’t work out. Now, I’m lying in bed with my eyes shut. I tried staring at the ceiling but my lids grew tired of the sight. Callum’s bed smells like him and if I can sleep anywhere, this would be the place. I mostly came in here for the open window though. I wanted the cool breeze to hit me. Not that it’s especially hot out tonight, I just love the feeling on my bare legs. I kick the covers farther down to the foot of the mattress and spread my arms out like a snow angel. I’ve never made a real snow angel before, sand angels, but no snow angels.

That last phone conversation with Callum was a bit too much. His voice kills me and hearing him say those words…well it was a bit too much for my poor body to handle. I feel giddy on power knowing exactly how much I can affect him. It’s dangerous. I can understand now how some women tend to use their bodies to their advantage to get what they want. It would work. It may not be all that ethical, but depending on the situation and relationship, it can be fun. A game of sorts I guess. God knows that Callum uses his sexual wiles to his advantage. And he’s up front about it. Wiley bastard.

Suddenly I hear muted thumping coming from the stairs leading up from the store to the flat. Sitting up, I listen carefully and the front door opens. What the hell? If I need to call 911 I’m screwed because I don’t have any phones up here with me. It better not be that damn ex of mine. I really don’t want to deal with him. Oh god, what if it is Felix? He has a key to the store, he could have easily gotten in and I didn’t lock the door to the flat. Maybe I should have. Well I obviously should have. I would actually rather it be a crazy stranger than have it be Felix.

As quietly as I can, I slide out of Callum’s bed and softly move to the edge of the room, peering over. I don’t see anyone. The front door is closed and I briefly wonder if it was my imagination. I realize that it wasn’t when I hear something coming from directly below my feet, from inside my bedroom. Great. Looking back to the open window, I contemplate being a coward and climbing up and out to the roof. Shaking my head, I’m just not scared enough to do it…yet. Right now, I’m too curious.

I peer over the ledge and a figure walks backwards out of my bedroom, looking straight up at me. I sigh, relieved that it’s Callum’s face. After I get over my initial relief, I wonder what the hell he’s doing back without notice. The flat is dark, but he’s not smiling and I find that very odd. Don’t look too happy to see me.

“What are ye doin’ up there?” he asks, his voice low but it carries up to me easily and I try to ignore the prickly feeling crawling up my back.

“I was trying to sleep. You didn’t tell me you were coming home tonight. I would have gotten cake.”

He doesn’t answer and I watch him walk around to the spiral stairs, steadily climbing them. I feel this fear in my gut. I should have felt it when I thought there was a burglar in here, not when I see that it’s Callum. There’s just something frightening in how quiet he’s acting. Stormy. He almost seems angry. I don’t know what to expect when he stops on the top step and stares hard at his bed, at the sheets pushed down to the end, and I almost feel like taking a few steps to distance myself further from him. Instead, I just take a few to the right, not wanting to stand so close to the edge any longer.

He turns to look at me and he’s never looked so tall to me before. He cocks his head to the side and gives me a funny look, his eyes looking me up and down. Flattening my hands on my stomach, I feel the hospital gown and internally groan. I probably look like a freak. It’s been so warm at night and I was so proud of myself for actually taking it, I wore it to sleep in tonight. I wait for him to comment on it but he doesn’t.

I look at him completely and smile at the suspenders hanging from his pants. What an odd thing to wear. But it gives him a rough appearance combined with his worn boots. The roughness is negated by the long sleeved sweater he’s wearing unzipped over a plain white tank top. The sweater looks soft and has diamond patterns along the waist. What an old man. Besides, when it comes to wearing odd things, I don’t have any mocking room.

I can’t help but swallow when he pulls the sweater off. The tank-top is tight…very tight. The moon is full and I can clearly see the lines of his arms in the light filtering in through the window. I’ve missed him so much and I suddenly feel so soft and warm towards him. All fear and apprehension is gone and I just feel so happy that he’s home. Smiling, I bridge the gap between us and wrap my arms around his waist, burying my face in his neck. He smells better than I ever remembered. I think I surprised him because he doesn’t move for a few beats. When he does, his hands slide up my back and inside the opening of the gown. I don’t move or say anything when he begins untying the strings at the back of my neck. I let him untie it and automatically drop my arms when he tugs it down to hang at my waist, the last two ties still intact. He wraps his arms around my back. I don’t feel uncomfortable or bashful, knowing that my bare chest is pressed against his. It’s exciting and he doesn’t do anything now but hug me tightly to his body. I definitely didn’t expect him to do that but he’s moving so slowly and deliberately that he’s leaving me loads of room to reject his movements. He makes me feel safe.

“I’m glad you’re home,” I whisper, my lips moving against his neck and I can feel his chest move against mine. I want to know all about what happened. He always made sure to steer the phone conversations away from things concerning his parents. I want to know what happened but I don’t ask because now is not the time. He’s back and I have all the time to ask him those questions. When he doesn’t answer, I continue and tell him that I missed him and how empty this place is without him.

He doesn’t say anything, but he makes use of his mouth when he begins kissing my bare shoulder. My arms tighten around him and I bunch his shirt up in my hands. Suddenly I just know that this is it. That we’re going to have sex. It’s been so long and it’s definitely due. I want him so badly and I feel so exhilarated knowing where this is all going. It’s not how I ever thought it would happen. Not that I’ve ever wanted to imagine it too much. That only drives a person insane. But I guess I always just thought it would be more drawn out. That there would be this long period leading up to this sort of activity. I’m glad it’s this though.

His teeth bite into my shoulder and I sort of forget to breathe. He notices and presses his hips against mine. He’s definitely looking forward to where this is going, his body gives him away rather obviously. I lift my head from his neck and look up at him. He smiles arrogantly and I laugh. I love him and I’m afraid to tell him.

My train of thought is cut off when his mouth smashes against mine none to gently. The kiss is deep and hard, he moves a hand to my cheek and holds my face dominatingly. His tongue slides against my own and he tastes like peanuts. It must be snack food from the plane, those little self-serve bags of peanuts. I love those peanuts. Peanuts never taste as good as they do on a plane. I don’t know why that is. Maybe because they’re free.

“Marina, heart, take my shirt off,” he almost growls against my lips. His demand takes me by surprise and it’s so utterly sexy. Biting my lip, I lean back and begin pulling his shirt up his chest.

Callum

I could have gotten rid of the shirt myself but I want to watch her do it. When she leans back, her breasts are on display and my fingers dig into her hips to keep from touching her. I have plenty of time to spend on her chest, I don’t wanna derail her from her task. I need to feel her nipples rubbing up against my skin. I could feel them through my shirt and the utter fuckin’ torture was too much. I’m weak.

Her fingernails scrape against my stomach as she drags my shirt up and I suck air in through my nose deeply. I know I’m coming across as a bloody caveman but I couldn’t give two shites about that right now. I want her more than I’ve ever wanted a woman and I don’t have the self-control to chat. I used up all of the control when I didn’t run up the damn stairs to reach her quicker. I certainly don’ have any left over for foreplay. I’d say that all this time spent not fucking her has been foreplay enough.

I manage to fight the urge to just throw her on the floor and rut. How charming can one man be? Morrissey flashes in my head and I push him out. I just love the random things that flash through ones head during times like these. A while back, I was fuckin’ this waitress and the entire time I was thinkin’ about how hard I would spin the wheel of fortune. Not exactly something a girl wants to know. But bein’’ a charming man myself, it’s logical that Moz should pop in my head after such a thought.

I feel like it takes her hours to take my shirt off but I let her do it herself. She appears to be enjoying herself. Once the shirt is gone, I pull her to me again before she has a chance to do anything more and I involuntarily thrust against her the second I feel her naked torso against mine. I can feel her thighs, her hips and that remarkable bit of anatomy that gives life on so many different levels. There are no words in the fuckin’ English language to adequately describe how exquisite she feels. She’s so bloody warm and gettin’ warmer and my male pride is skyrocketing. She’s undeniably up for it.

I grip at the back of her thigh with one hand and her arse with the other. She’s wearing a bloody hospital frock. It’s pale blue and square. She looks delicately innocent. I plan on askin’ her about it later. She says something that doesn’t register. I can hear my heartbeat and it drowns out everything else. I direct her towards my bed. My fuckin’ bed. She was sleeping in my god damn bed. How often did she do that? The image of her lying in my bed, that body on display between my sheets, it’s a very pleasant image. I don’t want her sleeping anywhere else ever again. She’s going to have a blight of a time tryin’ ta go back down to her own bed after this. I hope she realizes what she’s getting herself into. I was territorial enough when it came to her before this, fuck knows how I’ll be afterwards. She’s bringin’ out feelings I’ve always known were there but before they were just dormant. I never thought anyone could actually bring ‘em out o’me.

I quit thinking about much else beside the task at hand. Her hands are hot and she drags her nails up my back slowly and with much purpose. Fuckin’ minx. I feel her tugging at the suspenders hanging from my hips and I smile against the nape of her neck. Dad used to wear them constantly and I found his stash. I put them on and halfway through the day, I had to take them off my shoulders. They were driving me bonkers. I get now why he always had them hanging. It’s the initial effort that counts.

Marin steps back, one of the straps in her hand. She steps back until the strap is taunt and her breasts are perfect. Not too large for her frame. I’m guessing that she’s a D, possibly a double. She’s pretty fuckin’ tall so they’re most likely bigger than they appear. Breasts. I would wank God off for that.

Her skin is pale and so beautiful. Her nipples are the sweetest shade of pink I have ever had the blind luck of seeing. She tugs at the suspender with a tiny smile and she’s everything tempting. She’s a goddess.

“Take it off,” I say, nodding my head towards that damned frock. I want to watch. I like watchin’ her peel her clothes off. I’m sure undressing her would be just as pleasurable, if not more so. I have plenty of time for that though. I plan on having her at all hours, every fuckin’ day, whenever I get the urge. Of course, same goes for her. I wouldn’t ever think of denying her. Although, combine my sex drive with someone else’s and I may not live that long. Or even worse, get tired of sex. Hardly.

She shakes her head at my request and I’m shocked, I have to admit. She’s refusing to do it and has this fuckin’ guess what naughty thing I did look about her. When I take a step towards her, she steps back, keeping the suspender drawn between us. What the fuck is she playin’ at here? I’m too far gone to concentrate on a word game.

“Did you miss me?”

She smiles innocently and what a dumb question. Did I miss her? I look down at my hard on, obvious and pretty much the fuckin’ elephant in the room. Glancing up at her, I catch her looking and I can’t help the arrogance. Her innocent little look is actually a little for real now and she looks like she’s thinking about backing out of this. Like fuck she is.

“I missed you and loved feelin every bit of it,” I admit, catching her attention. I don’t know if she understands me but she smiles and it’s real and genuine and for a split second, I forget about the sex. I forget it all and I just want to stay like this. I missed her smile. The way she looks at me. As if she sees more in me than what’s really here. Ever the hopeful one. It’s a lot of pressure and I hope I don’t buckle underneath it.

“What’s with the suspenders?” she asks, her voice light but her demeanor is not. She slowly pulls on it and draws me closer to her and I feel like a fish. The fight or flight look is gone.

“Da’s,” I tell her, standing close to her and running my hands down her bare arms. I watch her face and tickle my fingers along the undersides of her breasts. Her eyes are too expressive. I want to draw her. Just like this. The urge is so strong that I actually think about pausing this and getting the charcoal out. I want to draw all over her body. Her mouth falls open and I forget about the charcoal, kissing her instead.

My hands move to her waist and around to her back. I pull all the strings until they untie and the thin gown falls to the floor. I grab her ass and almost lose it when I feel bare skin. Her hands are pulling at my pants. She kisses down my neck and across my Adam’s apple. I can feel her struggle with my pants and I let her for a few seconds before I help. There’s no zipper, just buttons and apparently it’s just too much of a task for Marin right now. I would laugh if I had it in me. I step back a bit and undo the buttons, pulling the pants off completely, along with my boxers. I do what I can to help.

I’ve never really been a time stood still sort of ponce, but I swear to god time takes a moment of pause when I look up at her, completely naked with a smile on her face. Her body is fuckin’ perfect. Hips to hold on to, pale skin, I want to make bruises on her thighs. I want to see traces of myself all over her body come morning. She seems content with my looking because she’s doing a lot of appraising herself. I spin my father’s ring on my finger and her eyes snap to my hand. The twin ring is sitting in my bag and I intensely want to see it on her finger. Fuck me. I want to worship the lass. I want her tied to me.

I don’t want to take the first step towards her. I want her to do it. I enjoy watchin’ her act on her wants. I’ll never tire of the sight of her walking towards me. Especially not if she’s naked and willing. She cocks her head and smiles in invitation and my original plan of makin’ her move is crushed. I cover the distance and kiss her roughly. I bite her lip and she only moans for more.

Marina

His body is intoxicating. I want to touch every bit of him and memorize it. His skin is soft and rough and his hands are strong on my waist as he pushes me down to the mattress. I don’t know how he manages to be forceful and so yielding at the same time. At this point, I imagine that he could almost do anything and it would only turn me on more. His accent is heavy and his voice urgent. He mutters things in Gaelic and it doesn’t matter that I don’t know what they mean. It’s all in the tone.

He hovers over me and all I can see is him. It’s incredibly exciting. I’ve never felt this wrapped up before. He nibbles along my shoulder as he slides a hand down my stomach. I gasp and arch up when his hand slides between my legs. His fingers are firm and knowing. He changes his pace so much that I can’t get settled into just one feeling. It’s cruel and completely welcome.

I want to hear him and I spread my legs to hook over his thighs. He sighs against my neck and says my name. Protection. We need a condom. I’ve been on birth control since High School but I want as much protection as I can get. I don’t want a child right now. Not in my future plans. I doubt a kid is in Callum’s plan either.

I have to say his name a few times before he lifts his head to kiss along my chin and finally to look at me. In the middle of asking about protection, he jerks his hips against mine and I can’t breathe. Not fair. But he nods, kissing my forehead before pulling away. I feel cold immediately and sit up on my elbows, suddenly scared that he took what I said the wrong way. “I didn’t mean for you to stop.”

He throws me an obvious look and stands up, walking to his dresser and sliding the top drawer open. He pulls out an open box of condoms and brings it over, sitting down beside me. He didn’t shut the drawer and for some reason it really bugs me. I hate stuff like that. I really want to get up and shut the drawer. I almost do but his left hand runs along my body as he holds the box between his knees and retrieves one of the packages. I lie back down and stretch my arms over my head, enjoying his hand massaging my thighs. I watch his face and he doesn’t even look at me. He looks so passive and uninterested in anything but the task at hand. I would almost believe the look if he wasn’t breathing so heavily.

He lets the box fall to the ground but doesn’t go back to his previous position. Instead, he stays sitting beside me and slowly touches me in all those places that some people don’t bother taking the time to touch. I move my hands from above my head and try to return the favor but he quickly grabs my hands and pushes them back above my head, pressing them down into the pillow. He sticks the condom package between his teeth and smiles around it and I laugh at his goofiness.

He moves back over me, dropping the wrapper to fall beside my head. I bend my knees to cradle his waist and he settles his weight over me. He feels amazing. With his arm reaching over my head to hold my hands, not really keeping them in place any longer but just holding them, his tattoo is on display and I can’t resist. I lift my head and kiss along the letters, tracing the shapes with my tongue. Inked evidence of his heritage.

“Bloody hell,” he curses under his breath and he releases my hands. I take advantage and move them to rub along his back. I move my right hand to where I know his other tattoos are, the random spots of ink marring his pelvic bone, and run my fingernails across his skin. I lift my face towards his for a kiss and he immediately complies. His face is scraggly and unshaven, scratching at my skin. I suddenly wonder what it would feel like on the inside of my thighs and I dig my other hand into his hair, tugging lightly. When I try to move my other hand down farther, he grabs my wrist and pulls my arm back up.

“I can resist anythin’ but temptation,” he says, his voice deep and graveled.

I kiss him softly on the jaw, across his chin, and ask, “You’re still resisting?”

He lifts his head and pauses before breathing out, “Point well received.”

Grabbing on to me, he rolls us over, our bodies coming dangerously close to the bed’s edge. Using my hands on his chest, I position my limbs in a comfortable manner and sit astride his waist, careful not to sit too low.

“A stóirín,” he whispers, his fingers sliding across my cheek and playing with my earrings. I don’t know what it means but it doesn’t matter. He’s beautiful. His eyes are a dark shade of green and his face is so open. He looks completely content. I love it but I want him to lose control. I want to feel him unleash. I also want this to go so slow it drives us both insane. I don’t want this to just be sex but something tells me that it will never be just sex between Callum and I.

Looking down at him from this position, he’s solid and large beneath me. His body doesn’t look any less threatening. Somehow, it just makes me feel more delicate and petite. His hand cups the back of my neck and he pulls me down for another kiss, my chest pressing against his. I dig my fingernails into his shoulders and I hear the condom wrapper tear. A rush of arousal shoots through my system at the sound and I kiss down his neck to his collar bone. I love his collar bone.

“Bloody hell, I can feel ya,” he gasps. I look up at him, not sure what he’s referring to exactly.

“I don’ have the patience for it right now, but prepare to spread those thighs to accommodate my shoulders later,” he says. He motions for me to sit up and when I do he follows after and lifts me up by my waist, moving me farther down his thighs. His erection is prominent and I’m pretty damn impressed. He doesn’t waste time in putting the condom on and when he’s done, he grabs me and I use his shoulders to sink down. He’s large and I can’t help but think that he’s bigger than Felix. How horrible is that?

It’s not painful, but a little uncomfortable at first. He wraps his arms around me and holds me close. I hook my arms around his neck and shoulders and kiss along his skin. His chest is heaving with the deep breaths he’s taking in and I realize that mine is as well. It feels…he, I don’t even know how to describe it to myself. This just feels right.

“Alright?” he whispers, his hands running down my back and tracing the curves of my hips and thighs. I nod and smile, not caring that he can’t see it. I’ve never been like this before. I’ve never had sex in this way. It’s new and so intimate. There’s not one bit of me that’s not touching him, there’s no air between us.

“Move with me,” he softly demands, his hands on my hips. I use my knees and his shoulders for support and I move. I can’t think of much. My senses are alive. Everything seems so loud and I shake. He mutters endearments and curses, an erotic combination coming from his mouth.

He thrusts up especially forceful and I gasp his name. It seems to spurn him on and his movements become frantic. He leans me back and runs his hand between my breasts, teasing me. The change in position creates a new angle and it’s amazing how different it feels. I dig my fingers into his thighs while his hands grip my hips so hard it hurts.

I can feel his eyes watching me move and it’s overwhelming. He mutters something about not lasting and I sit up and kiss him. I love kissing him. I never want to kiss anyone else. He leans back to lie down, bringing my kiss with him.

“Gráim thú,” he says. His voice is so soft that I strive to hear him. Grabbing onto me, he rolls us over back the other direction, pressing his hips into mine roughly. His muscles shift beneath my fingers as his hips move to a rhythm all his own. It feels like there are tiny little fingers spreading out from between my legs, tickling every nerve ending.

Callum looks down between us and lets out a long stream of Gaelic that’s said so quickly and gutturally that I can’t make out what the words even sound like. I bring his face up to look at me and lift my head to kiss his neck. I can’t help but compare Callum to Felix. It’s nothing that’s thought in a spiteful manner. It’s just the natural thoughts of something new. I’ve never felt these things before. This constant need to kiss him, to taste the sweat on his neck. I feel so close to Callum, like he’s completely open for me and right now, he couldn’t hide anything.

Callum lowers his mouth to my ear, kissing behind it and whispering about the sight of my legs open beneath him. His words send shocks through my body, all landing directly between my legs. Every word that comes out of his mouth affects me so deeply. I feel it all and it’s becoming too much for my body to take.

--------------

“When I was little, for a short time, I thought my name was Jesus Christ. Honestly, I did,” he insists when I laugh. What an odd thing to say afterwards. He stretches his legs out and smiles.

“And why was that?” I ask, tracing patterns on his chest.

“Whenever I did somethin’ wrong, me dad would always curse out Jesus Christ! Get over here! I thought it was just another name they gave me.” I laugh again and he adds, “I was a tiny blighter, give me a damned break.”

“I’m sorry, you’re right. Continue,” I sit up in rapt attention and drum my hands on his belly to show my excitement for the story. He lets me, his left hand stroking across my thigh. I love after sex Callum. He looks so content. He’s chatty. He’s been talking, his voice relaxed.

“As I was sayin’ before you ran your mouth, I thought I was Jesus. Me parents weren’t really the Jesus worshipin’ types but I remember going ta church once. I don’ know why but I remember sitting in the pew between my parents and starin’ at the old people fallin’ asleep. The big talker got to the piece about Jeezy Bits bein’ strung up on the cross and I fuckin’ flipped my lid. I crawled over me mum’s lap and went screamin’ down the aisle. Fuckin’ scared the coffin dodgers shitless. I was yellin’ about not wantin’ ta be hung on a bit of wood. I was bloody well terrified. Course me parents followed me out. I refused to step foot in a church again after that.”

By the time he finishes his story, I’m doubled over from laughing. He grabs me and pulls me across his stomach, tickling my sides and I laugh even harder. He keeps it going until I’m begging him to stop because it just hurts too much. He finally relents and sits up with me in his lap. I position my legs around him and sit comfortably on his thighs.

“Were they mad?” I ask, out of breath.

“Who?” He pushes my hair from my face kisses me with a smile.

“Your parents. Were they mad at you? You ran screaming from the church. Churches don’t usually get that sort of commotion I would assume.”

“Nah. I was so bloody terrified that someone would crucify me, I gather they didn’t feel the need to reprimand me. Besides, judging by the way they told the story to their mates, they both thought it was a fuckin’ riot.”

The entire time he’s talking his eyes keep flicking down to my chest and I realize that it’s most likely because I never bothered to put a shirt on. Why should I? Every time I watch a movie with a sex scene, either the woman is wearing a bra during the sex, or magically something just appears to cover her chest up after sex. I know that it’s more so the actress not wanting to be half naked on screen, I can understand that, but I couldn’t understand doing that in real life. I can’t hide from him now, it’s too late, he’s seen me naked. I feel no need to cover my chest up or to put anything on whatsoever until I decide that it’s actually time to get dressed. He didn’t reach for the underwear, I’m definitely not going to. But it is making me feel…I don’t know. Not uncomfortable, just highly aware that he’s highly aware of my nudity. My entire body is thrumming with this buzz. I feel weightless.

“Well…I don’t have any stories like that,” I say sadly. That was a very good story, so good that I’m not completely convinced that it’s true. But he looks so sincere and so happy telling it, that it has to be.

“Tell me anything, heart.”

“Did you ever have an imaginary friend?” I ask. He shakes his head and I continue, “Neither did I. I always wanted one though. I thought it would be the coolest thing to see someone that no one else could. For a week I tried pretending that I had one, but no one believed me.”

“You were pretendin’ ta have a pretend friend?”

I laugh at how absurd that sounds but it was true, I did. A friend of mine had one and she rubbed it in all that time. I really wanted one too. Callum laughs and I cover his mouth with my hand in mock hurt. His response is to bite my palm and I quickly remove my hand.

We sit like this for what seems like hours, well not in the same exact position, but we don’t leave the bed. We talk and it’s so wonderful but he never brings up the subject of his trip. He doesn’t volunteer information on how it all worked out and what happened. He doesn’t, so I do.

“What happened in Ireland? Did you figure everything out?” I ask, my legs draped over his stomach, lying sideways across the bed. I turn my head to look over at him, his head flat on the mattress because who knows what we did with the pillows.

“For the most part.” He doesn’t offer anything else and I press the subject.

“Tell me about it. Did you spread your father’s ashes?”

“What’s your take on diggin’ up coffins?” he asks, his face blank and unreadable. I take a moment to answer because I don’t really know what my take on it is.

“Well, it’s not something I would ever want to spend my spare time doing.”

“I had me mum cremated, like she had wanted, and I spread their ashes together,” he says, pushing out in one deep breath. He turns his gaze to the ceiling and I smile. It’s nice that he did that for them. It’s what they wanted. It takes me a few seconds to realize that in order to do that, he would have had to…oh. Oh. Well. How do you do that? How does one actually go about doing that?

“I didn’ do it. Deaglan had some shady mates who liked my money.”

“So it wasn’t you who actually…did it?” I ask, not really wanting to say the words. Dug up his mother. There just is no nice way to say those words.

“No, it wasn’ me,” his voice is guarded and I stare at the side of his face. Sitting up, I maneuver my body to change positions and drape my torso across his chest, my breasts pressing against his skin. I hug him loosely and try to offer as much support as I can. I can’t imagine doing that and what it must have done to him.

“Are you alright?” I ask. He doesn’t answer, instead he just runs his hand along my back. We stay like that for several minutes. I don’t know what to say to him and he seems content to say nothing.

Having a thought, I ask, “Did you have that planned before you left?”

“For the most part.”

“Is that one of the reasons you didn’t invite me along?” The question is far more straightforward than most I have asked him but it seems alright to ask it.

“It played a part but I’d be bullshittin’ ye if I said it was everythin’. I jus’ didn’ want you there.”

I applaud him for his honesty and it stings a little, but I think I can come up with enough reasons for it. It sort of makes sense. He was still a selfish ass for not letting me drive him to the airport though and I tell him so in exactly those words. He laughs, his chest rumbling beneath my ear. To prove my annoyance, I turn over and stare at the ceiling, his chest as a pillow.

“Darlin’, I never would’a left.”

“Whatever. It was still mean.” I try to keep the annoyance and anger but it’s hard. Especially when his hand is moving across my skin, now with a purpose. Bad idea to roll over.

“You’re absolutely correct. It was a complete bastardly thing for me ta do. But it all lead ta this and I hardly think ye have it in ye to complain about the turn of events,” he says smugly as his hand slides down my stomach. I keep still in anticipation. I’ll never tire of his touch. His other hand plays with my hair and it’s so relaxing. I have a soft spot for people playing with my hair. I think everyone does.

“I could complain. I could always complain,” I insist.

“Complain all ye want but spread your legs first.”

My body has a tiny death immediately after he says those words. His command is sexy. He’s sexy. Hearing him telling me to do things like that shoots arousal all throughout my body and it’s all the foreplay anyone ever needs. It doesn’t matter if I was planning on doing it already, just hearing him say it is worth holding out for. He’s incredible when it comes to sexual activity. He knows exactly what he’s doing and I guess it’s from all the experience. Not something I really want to think about, but I guess I’m grateful for it in a sense. I can’t even imagine what the rest of our sexual relationship will be like. This is still the first night. I never ever want us to run out of the little surprises.