Chapter Eighteen
Wren
After a walk around the farm to encourage our breakfast to go down, Marcus and I get ready to go out, and before long we’re off in the Bentley with the top down.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going yet?” I ask, and he shakes his head and laughs.
I suppose the guy deserves his fun after giving me an amazing orgasm last night.
I’m still reeling from it. I find myself having flashbacks of how it felt to have his tongue and fingers teasing me, and what it felt like to come with him inside me.
If this happens to most people, it’s no wonder there’s so much written about sex.
I look out of the window at the rolling Waikato countryside, feeling an unusual flare of anger at the history of my lackluster love life.
It’s hard to blame my previous partners, because I think they were even more clueless about sex than I was, if that’s possible.
No man is born knowing how to please a woman, and if you go by the movies, women are ready for penetration in seconds and come with just a few thrusts.
But Marcus seemed to understand that it takes time for me to get aroused. And not only that; he was prepared to spend time doing it. He actually seemed to enjoy the process.
Will sex with him be like that every time? Or was it a one-off, to show he could make me come, and next time he’ll lose patience and forget about my pleasure? There’s no way of knowing except to try again… and for the first time in my life, I find myself looking forward to having sex.
We pass a signpost, and my heart gives a jolt. It said Matamata, and under that, ‘The Shire’s Rest – Hobbiton Movie Set Tours’.
I stare at Marcus. He’s wearing sunglasses, so I can’t see his eyes, but his big grin tells me what I need to know.
“We’re going to Hobbiton?” I say breathlessly.
He nods. “You haven’t been, right?”
“No…” I’ve never had the money to spend on a tour. “Oh my God…”
“I was worried if I told you too early you’d want to dress up like Galadriel or Eowyn,” he says. “Although now I’m wondering if that would have been an advantage…” He mimes being thoughtful, then laughs.
I’m speechless. Not just because The Lord of the Rings is my favorite book and movie trilogy of all time, but because he’s been thoughtful enough to arrange something he knows I’ll enjoy. “Oh, Marcus…”
“We’re having a private tour,” he says. “They’ll take us around the movie set and the Hobbit Holes, and then we’ll have a drink in the Green Dragon Inn.”
My jaw drops. “A private tour? That must have cost you a fortune.”
“Benefits of being married to a rich guy,” he says.
“Damn straight! Oh… thank you so much!”
“Should be fun.” He grins again, clearly thrilled I’m so happy.
It only takes us another five minutes to arrive. We park in the huge car park, and then he locks the car, and we head toward the Shire’s Rest, tucked in the Kaimai Ranges. It’s a converted woolshed, Marcus tells me, with a large café, a ticketing office, and a shop.
“We’ll go around the shop when we finish,” he assures me, “and I’ll buy you whatever you want.”
“I’m in heaven,” I reply, “I swear it. This is a dream come true.”
“I’m so pleased you’re happy.” He takes my hand. “Come on, let’s find our guide.”
In less than ten minutes, we’re sitting in a Range Rover, being driven through the 1,250-acre sheep farm by Jolanda, a lovely woman in her forties who is super excited when she finds out we’re on our honeymoon.
“How wonderful!” She beams at us in her rear-view mirror. “We’ll make sure you have a fantastic time today.”
“I already know we will,” I say as she travels along the winding road to the movie set. Marcus’s hand is warm on mine. He’s hardly let go of it, and I’m enjoying his possessiveness, and the way he always introduces me as ‘my wife, Wren.’
“Wren’s a big fan,” Marcus states.
“Jolly good,” Jolanda replies, “We love The Lord of the Rings nerds here.”
Marcus chuckles and squeezes my hand. He’s even more charismatic when he’s excited about something, and he radiates happiness now he knows how much this means to me.
Over the next two-and-a-half hours, Jolanda takes us on a walking tour through the twelve-acre site. She tells us lots of fascinating details about how the Hobbiton movie set was created, and stops frequently to allow us to take photos.
I take hundreds: of the Hobbit Holes—especially the special ones like Sam’s House and Bag End—of the Party Tree, and of all the amazing details that the creators have spent such time over. And Jolanda takes lots of photos of the two of us as well, which I love.
Marcus always slides his arm around me and pulls me close, and I tingle every time as I feel his hand on my skin and think about what’s going to happen later.
To my delight, it turns out that Marcus is almost as much of a nerd as I am. He’s read all the books, and he also knows the movies inside out. He asks lots of questions about the filming of each movie, and is even able to quote lines with me, which almost makes me tearful with happiness.
At the end, we get to wander through one of the Hobbit Holes and take more photos of all the rooms. Then Jolanda guides us past the big water mill and down to the Green Dragon Inn.
This looks exactly like it did in the movies, and I’m lost for words again as we go inside and Jolanda orders us some non-alcoholic ginger beer.
We sip our drinks while we look around the pub and its grounds. I catch myself glancing at him all the time. He’s so handsome, and he somehow oozes wealth and confidence.
At one point, as we walk under a tree, he turns me so we’re facing away from most of the visitors, and he pushes me up against the tree and crushes his lips to mine.
I let him, with a small moan, enjoying the feel of his hands as he cups my face, and the way he kisses me with such passion, as if he can’t get enough of me.
I feel as if the air between us is becoming charged again. I believe he’s thinking about what’s going to happen when we get back, too. Just the thought of what he might have planned makes me breathless.
When we’ve finished, Jolanda drives us back to the Shire’s Rest before wishing us all the best for a happy future, and goes on her way.
As he promised, Marcus then takes me to the shop, and I spend ages going through all the items for sale.
At first I’m hesitant about choosing too much, but he keeps encouraging me to get more.
In the end, I get several T-shirts, a hoodie, a variety of books and pencils, a wonderful small green backpack that looks as if it’s made out of dragon skin, a sun hat, and a variety of jewelry, including a pair of beautiful earrings that look like the ones that Arwen wears.
Marcus pays for it all, then takes me upstairs to the café for some lunch.
I’m still quite full from my huge breakfast, so I just ask for a slice of chocolate cake and an iced coffee, and he has a piece of lemon meringue pie, and we eat those while we look through our purchases, as he’s also bought a couple of tees and a paper knife that looks like Gandalf’s sword for himself.
When we’ve finished our lunch, we walk slowly back to the car and then Marcus drives us back to the farm, promising that over the next few days we’ll do some sightseeing, and visit the Waitomo Glowworm caves and the town of Rotorua, known for its geothermal activity, mud pools, and geysers.
“I’ve had such an amazing day,” I tell him as he draws up out the front of the house and turns off the engine.
“And it’s not over yet.” He slides off his sunglasses and then winks at me.
Ohhh… I get out of the car, suddenly breathless again. But this time it’s not so much with nerves as with excitement.
We go inside, into the cool kitchen, each take a bottle of water out from the fridge, and have a few mouthfuls, watching each other.
Marcus screws the lid back on his, his lips curving up.
“What would you like to do?” There’s a touch of mischief in his voice.
“Have a rest? Read a book? Do a jigsaw puzzle?”
I put the lid back on my bottle. Then, without saying another word, I push him back against the counter, reach up on tiptoe, lift my arms around his neck, and kiss him.
He laughs and wraps his arms around me, and we indulge in a long, passionate embrace, skipping the butterfly kisses and going straight to the full tongue, five-out-of-five, heart racing stage.
It’s only when something occurs to me that I finally move back and say, “Oh… I’ve just thought… do you mind if I have a shower first?” I’m not yet comfortable enough with him to let him do intimate things to me while I’m all hot and sticky.
He cups my cheek and brushes a thumb over my mouth, his eyes half-closed with desire. I expect he’ll refuse… and then he says abruptly, “Good idea,” takes my hand, and marches off to the bedroom with me running to catch up.
He takes me straight into the bathroom, turns on the shower, and closes the cubicle door to let it heat up.
Next, he grabs a handful of his tee at the back of his neck, tugs it over his head, and tosses it unceremoniously onto the floor.
Then he pulls me toward him and kisses me while he starts undoing the buttons of my top.
I realize what he’s intending, and my eyes widen. “Oh,” I say as he peels my top over my shoulders. “You mean… we’re having a shower together?”
He chuckles. “Don’t tell me you’ve never done it.
” He looks at my face, though, and a look of disbelief and then exasperation crosses his features.
“Jesus. Well, their loss, my gain. Come on, gorgeous. We’re going to have some fun getting all wet and slippery.
” He growls and kisses my neck, then begins undoing my cut-downs.