Chapter 7 #2
She didn’t think, only acted. Holding Tommy’s gaze, she tugged the robe open and let it fall to the floor in a heap.
When her fingers began to undo the nightgown buttons at her throat, Tommy inhaled sharply.
His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides as if he didn’t quite know what to do with them, but he didn’t move.
His heated attention emboldened her, made her want to expand the boundaries of her existence.
She was no stranger to nudity, her own or others’.
As an artist, she had posed before a crowd and delighted in the knowledge that her body was art.
But now, with Tommy, it would not be about art.
It would be about lust, desire, need. Baring her body to him was akin to baring her soul.
In all her life, she had never been more eager.
She grasped two fistfuls of flannel and drew the gown over her head.
Summoning her courage, she lifted her chin to see Tommy’s reaction.
He stared at her like a starving man before a feast. His nostrils flared as his gaze touched her collarbones, her breasts, her belly. He paused at the juncture of her thighs, and his cock strained against the front of his trousers.
“You’re so lovely. So beautiful. So perfect.”
The hoarse rasp in his voice sent a shiver straight to her throbbing core. To be desired thusly was a new sensation, one to be savored and dissected at a later time. For now, she simply wanted to act.
She took two steps toward the tub and lifted a hand.
Tommy was at her side in an instant, and she shivered anew at his eagerness.
He cupped her hand and guided her into the bath.
She sank into the warm, healing water with a sigh of contentment.
It wasn’t as large as the tub back home, but she didn’t care that her knees rose above the surface.
Tommy had prepared it for her; it was perfect.
Tommy disappeared from view, only to return a moment later carrying a plate and a mug. He set the plate, holding a flaky pan biscuit, on the wooden board before her, and pressed the mug into her hand. “Drink.”
She sipped, not surprised in the least to find a delicious, nurturing broth.
Similarly, each morsel of the buttery biscuit—such a deceptively simple treat—quelled the rumbling in her hollow belly.
After the last bite, Tommy removed the dishes and slab of wood.
She leaned her head back against the tub and closed her eyes.
The heat enveloped her body, rejuvenating both her body and mind.
The scent of lavender and chamomile tickled her nostrils and banished the final vestiges of her headache.
At last, she opened her eyes to find Tommy watching her. “How is it?” he asked softly.
“Everything is wonderful.” She bit her lip, then admitted, “Much better than spending Christmas by myself.”
She probably would have spent the holiday alternating between crying and gnawing a raw carrot. But this—being treated as if she were something precious—was indescribable.
Tommy’s expression softened. “Told you I’d take care of you.”
“You did.” She raised her brows. “In any way I needed, wasn’t that right?”
In answer, he pulled a stool behind the tub and sat, his knees straddling either side. She peered down at her body, fully visible beneath the still water, and swallowed hard.
“Sit up a bit,” he said softly. She slid upward, her shoulders and upper chest rising above the bathwater. Before she could ask him what he intended, he traced the sensitive skin at the nape of her neck with the pad of one finger. “Lovely.”
Both hands rose to knead the taut muscles in her neck and shoulders, and she closed her eyes to savor every moment.
Each stroke, each press, was an invitation to surrender, to let her worries fade, if only for a little while.
She gave herself over to his touch, content to exist in a dream world where only she and Tommy mattered.
“How’s this?” His breath tickled her ear.
“Heavenly.”
One palm slid over her shoulder and stroked a path across her collarbone. She bit her lip to keep from moaning aloud. He did it again, his fingertips dipping below the surface of the water to stroke between her breasts. Need unfurled in her low belly.
“Tell me what else needs my touch.”
A thousand thoughts tumbled over one another.
This had not been covered in the pamphlets on reproduction Aunt Judith gave her when she became engaged.
But this was Tommy. She was safe with him.
Safe to express herself, safe to explore the ardor consuming them.
Wherever he wanted to lead her, she would follow.
Bracing her hands on the lip of the tub, she levered herself up until her breasts, heavy with desire, crested the surface of the fragrant water. Her dusky nipples, already peaked with need, tightened further at the brush of cool air.
“Ah, I see.” His hands slid across her slick skin and she gasped as his warm palms cupped her breasts. When he spoke, his voice was thick. "How perfectly you fill my hands. Is that what you needed?" His thumbs grazed her nipples and she twitched at the potent delight. “Or perhaps this?”
"Yes,” she gasped, water sloshing as her legs moved restlessly beneath the surface.
He rewarded her by rolling her turgid nipples between her thumb and forefinger. He massaged her, raising her to the height of pleasure, while he pressed wet kisses along her neck. Dragging his lips to her ear, he growled, “Does your pussy ache?”
“Oh, God, yes.”
“Touch it.”
She obeyed without question, her fingers sliding beneath the water to the curls at the juncture of her thighs.
“Does it arouse you to know I'm watching?” She nodded, mesmerized by the low hum of his voice.
“I wish you could see how beautiful you are, Genie love.
So flushed and eager. My cock has never been so hard.
And it's all because of you.” He tweaked her nipples, harder, and a strangled gasp escaped her.
“Pleasure yourself while I worship these perfect breasts. Show me how to please you next time.”
She eagerly spread her legs and slid two fingers across her clitoris the way she liked.
At the same time, Tommy sucked her neck.
She shuddered and moaned. It was almost too much to bear—a scoundrel worshiping her breasts, whispering such wicked things in her ear, and her own fingers bringing her to fulfillment. Her nerves tightened, expanded.
“I adore your breasts so much. I want to thrust my cock between them, fuck them while you watch—”
She cried out, shuddering as a long, deep climax rocked her limbs.
She didn't wait, but surged to her knees in the tub, water splashing over the rim.
Her abrupt movement dislodged Tommy's grip, and she turned to face him.
His face was taut with barely leashed control, and his entire body shook.
She lowered her eyes deliberately to where his cock thrust against his trousers.
“Take it out.”
He was on his feet, his shirt and trousers undone and discarded before she could tell him to take it slow so she could savor it. But then his thick cock was before her eyes in all its glory, and words failed her. Tommy pumped its length with a firm grip and a bead of moisture rose to the tip.
"You're unbelievably gorgeous," he grunted. "Surging out of the water like a goddamned mermaid. I can barely stand it."
No one had ever made her feel so worthy. She wanted to tell him what it meant to her, but she didn't know if it would be too much. If it would scare him off. She would give him physical pleasure instead. Anything he wanted.
"Come here."
He stepped forward. On her knees, his cock bobbed somewhere between her breasts and her mouth.
So close to her mouth. She felt an urge to kiss it.
She knew some men liked such a thing. There was artwork depicting such scenes between men and women, or even between men.
It had shocked and aroused her, but above all, it made her curious.
She leaned forward before he could guess what she was doing and pressed her lips to the tip of his cock.
"Genie love." His voice was strangled. "You don't have to do that."
"You said you would give me anything I wanted," she pouted. "And I want to try."
His fist moved to the base of his cock. "Open your mouth and stick out your tongue."
Her eyes widened when his cock slipped between her lips and filled her mouth. He tasted salty, earthy, and she knew she’d never get enough. She sucked in her cheeks and lifted her tongue, exploring his width.
He threw his head back and groaned. "That's so good. So fucking good."
She preened and doubled her efforts. It was awkward at first, but the messier she was, the more excited Tommy grew. She tossed aside her inhibitions and concentrated on using every part of her mouth on every part of his cock.
"Your breasts," he panted. "I want to fuck them."
She licked his cock one more time, then pulled backward. “Show me what to do.”
A moment later, her breasts, dripping with soapy suds, were pressed tightly around his cock.
Tommy slowly rocked his hips, moving faster as they found their rhythm.
Imogen alternated between watching the head of his cock surge toward her chin and staring up at Tommy with equal fascination.
His muscles bunched and rippled with each movement, his face tightening with pleasure. He was magnificent.
“I’m going to finish.” He jerked his cock free and fisted it in a swift flurry of strokes. He gave a throaty groan, and Imogen watched open-mouthed as white ropes of his seed hit the bathwater.
“That was…absolutely extraordinary,” she breathed.
He cupped her cheek with his free hand, his gaze fierce. “You were extraordinary, Genie love. If you only knew how much I—” He broke off with a slight shake of his head.
Spellbound, she asked, “How much you what?”
But he only rearranged his features into a leer. “How much I want to do it again.”
She blinked and let out a weak laugh. “Then I should probably eat another biscuit.”
“That’s my girl.” He winked and took a step backward. “Wait there.”
“But I’ll get lonely,” she protested.
“Only until I grab the towel.”
“Ah. Wouldn’t want to get the floor wet.”
“You know me so well.” He lifted the towel from its nearby wall hook and circled near.
Imogen rose to her feet and held out her hand, only to have Tommy brush it aside.
He patted her dry himself and then swept her into his arms. She gasped as their skin collided, and marveled at the fresh rush of desire that swept through her body.
He set her down on the edge of the bed and gestured for her to get in.
“What about my nightgown?”
“No need. I’ll keep you warm.” Before she could grasp his intent, he fetched the copy of Sherlock Holmes and climbed under the covers. “Are you coming?”
She crawled up the bed, noting—and reveling in—Tommy’s intent and frank admiration.
He’d done so much for her, made her so happy.
If only she had more time to prepare something as well.
As she settled against the headboard and arranged the blankets around her, she spotted a bit of cloth sticking out from the edge of her pillow.
She did have something she could give him.
“Do you remember the time my father forbade me from going to the art festival?”
“He never understood how important it was to you.”
“But you understood.” She lifted the scrap of worn linen. “You gave me your best handkerchief to wipe my tears.”
He rubbed the linen between two fingers, and a curious expression crossed his face. “You kept it all these years?”
“Despite everything that happened between us, it has always brought me comfort. It reminds me—for good or for bad—that someone, somewhere, will appreciate me for who I am.”
“Then why give it to me?”
“Because now I know our falling out was hard for you, too.” She indicated the corner of the handkerchief where there were two intertwining sets of initials, one in faded blue thread and the other in a newer, more vibrant red.
“I don’t know what will happen to us when we leave this cabin, but I hope that you can look at our initials together and know how important you are to me. ”
“Thank you, I—I—” He coughed and rubbed a hand over his chin. “That’s very thoughtful.”
“And just so you know,” she added, “I don’t normally sleep with it under my pillow.”
His lips turned up on one side. “No?”
“I had to hide it in one of the few places that escapes your incessant cleaning.”
He shook his head and laughed. “Whatever you say, Genie love. Now, come here.”
He lifted an arm in invitation, and she eagerly pressed into his side.
The warmth of his skin seeped into hers and she cuddled closer, daring to lay her cheek in the crook of his neck.
He began to read aloud, his resonant baritone and the soft rustle of turning pages as soothing as a hot cup of chocolate.
The afternoon crept on, yet neither moved except to occasionally add wood to the fire or adjust their position. As Imogen lay in Tommy’s arms, his fingers idly stroking the hair at her brow, she pondered the serenity in her heart.
She had arrived to a stark, cold cabin and done her best to make it a refuge.
Yet something had always been missing. Now, she knew what it was.
She tilted her face and watched the firelight play across Tommy’s strong jaw, highlighting his thick, auburn eyelashes and the crinkles at the corner of his eyes.
And fell for him all over again.