Cole pulled Kaylee close and kissed her on the neck as she continued speaking. He felt the tender skin of her back and gently caressed her. Then taking advantage of what she just said, Cole pulled Kaylee so strongly she ended up on top of him. ‘No, but I'll force you on top of me." he laughed.
"You have to know, my wanting to help people growing up, my goal of becoming a physiotherapist, my volunteering to help you rehabilitate, everything was about you." She revealed.
"I wanted to become a physiotherapist and help people heal, mostly so I could patch you up every time you got into some kind of trouble. You must know I want to be with you, don't you?" She asked.
"We're together. Now would you please stop talking and … " Cole chose to stop talking himself, landing a passionate kiss on Kaylee's lips. She melted into his, huge, masculine arms.
Kaylee felt an urgency between them, a desperate need to couple although the healer in her said Cole was in no condition. She took his mouth in a kiss, nibbling at his lips and caressing his skin with her hands. Heat burst through her at his smallest touch and her body came alive with passion when she touched him. She pulled the t-shirt over his head and nibbled the skin over his shoulder, following the lines of his muscles with her tongue.
"You up to this?" She asked, breathlessly.
"Woman, I'm a NAVY SEAL," He told her in a voice hoarse with smoke damage, "Just be gentle with me, okay?" She grinned and carried on kissing her way down his body. Cole's body went tight when the sensations from her mouth hit him, he threw back his head and moaned, "Holy...Kaylee..."
After a while she stood away from him and slowly stripped her clothes off, turning to hide the newly uncovered sections of flesh from his gaze, teasing him. She stood in just her panties with her arms crossed before her breasts.
"Hello sailor," Kaylee breathed in a seductive voice, "Wanna' anchor your ship in my harbor?" Cole snorted a laugh given the out of character comment and she giggled, stripping the last scrap of fabric from her and climbing on the bed. She crawled up over Cole and lowered herself, gasping as his thickness filled her completely. As well as the feelings of pure delight which coursed through her, Kaylee felt completeness, a rightness, as if this was her purpose, her reason for living.
Kaylee lay herself atop Cole's muscular form, feeling the heat burning from him into her as she worked them both up into a gentle frenzy. They both reached the heights of ecstasy, Kaylee burying her face in his neck as she plateaued.
They fell asleep right there, Kaylee on top of Cole, waking eventually with loving grins and caressing touches.
"God, Kaylee. You're so beautiful." Cole said.
"Cole, stop talking. Kaylee teased, ready for another round.
The End
***
KEEPING THE FAITH FOR LOVE
A Western Historical Romance
By
Angel Atkins
Chapter One
Jenny's hands froze despite her long thick dress and oversized blue sweater that once belonged to her mum. Her hands moved automatically, washing last night's pot, but her eyes stared fixedly out of the kitchen window. She licked her lips to ease the discomfort in her mouth caused by the numbing cold.
As much as she hated the cold, she loved looking out the window at the falling snow, as it built small mountains on the backyard.
When summer, it was littered with trash and equipment carelessly left lying on the ground, when it snowed, their backyard transformed to a magical place, with White Plains and plateaus rising and falling.
It puzzled Jenny that God created all that, yet He never raised a finger to change their lives. Her hand flew to her mouth, as soon as she realized where her thoughts were headed.
She searched for a bible verse in her mind, as though she was actually flipping the bible. When she got the right verse, Jenny murmured it aloud. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Her mind went calm and she felt her faith restored. It was a daily battle to remember that God was with her, her guardian, her mother always used to remind her when she was afraid. Doubts plagued her and questions that she had no answers to popped up in her mind, when she least expected them.
She finished with the dishes and took a feather broom. As she swept the floor, she stopped short when she heard a loud bang from her father's workshop, off the hallway that connected it to the rest of the house. Jenny sighed. It would be another long day. The bang was followed by more noises, as things were smashed against the wall.
In her mind's eye, she saw the scene in the garage, having witnessed it more times than she could count. Her father would be nailing two pieces of wooden logs together, while sipping on a tin cup of ale. That finished, he stands back to admire his handiwork and the lopsided smile fades when he sees a blemish on the wood. Anger rises, his breathing comes out in short, impatient gasps, until his mouth and nose appear to swell with every second.
He lashes out, and rains blows and kicks on the work, which he had spent weeks working on. He picks up a piece and throws it against the wall. His anger spent, he picks up the jar of ale, refills his glass and collapses to the floor. He holds the glass tightly and swallows the contents in a single sip.
Jenny turned her attention to the floor, sweeping in quick hurried moves, her legs trembling slightly. Woken up by the commotion, her younger brother James staggered in, still in the clutches of sleep. He rubbed his eyes and stood looking at the front room as though it was his first time to see it. Jenny smiled and ruffled his hair. At seven years old, he still possessed an innocent outlook on life, and for that she was grateful.
He wore a pair of trousers that went up to his knees and a tattered sweater. He outgrew his clothes so quickly. Jenny had no money to buy material to sew him some clothes and her father just did not see how badly off they all were. Already the trousers clung to his legs and she could see the strain of material as it struggled to stay together. He had one other trouser, a little longer, and one he used for church.
Now even going to church was a chore. It shamed Jenny to have all those people looking at her and James with pity in their eyes. It was easier to stop going.
‘There is a kettle of tea and some pancakes on the kitchen table. Go on and pour yourself a mug.' Jenny said.
‘May I have three pancakes?' he said.
Jenny laughed. James had a healthy appetite; it was a shame that they never quite had enough food to satisfy his hunger. This morning though, she had cooked plenty of pancakes, from the donation of flour and sugar they had received from the members of the church.
‘Yes you may.' Jenny answered.
Five minutes later, she heard the door flung open and heavy steps walking towards the front room.
‘Those nails are useless, half rusted. They don't make them as they used to, I'll tell you that. Jenny!' he yelled.
‘Yes father?' she said looking up, as he entered the living room.
His face appeared swollen and red, but like the rest of him stick thin. His eyes blazed indignation. He came to a stop, but his feet teetered, his balance already affected by the ale.
‘Where did you buy those nails?' he said.
‘The General shop father; where I always do.' Jenny answered.
She felt guilty at lying to him, but instead of buying new nails, she had walked along a building under construction and collected discarded nails. The little money he had given her for nails, she had used to buy soap and other necessities.
‘Next time, buy somewhere else. I need good nails for my work.'
Jenny almost wept with relief. There would be no shouting today. While he had never laid a finger on her, his temper was volatile, his voice loud and angry. She looked at him and felt a wave of pity for him. The image of the father she once knew had faded over the years and looking at him, it was hard to tell that he had been the same man.
She could never bring herself to blame him. Life had not been kind to the three of them. After the death of her mother, she and her father had each found solace in different places, his in alcohol and her in the church. She had clung to the knowledge that God still loved her, despite taking her mother from her while giving birth to her younger brother. She had tried to bring her father to know God, but he was like a rock, hardened by years of harsh weather.
Her father barely listened to her, merely grunted in response, while reaching for the glass of ale. The people at church kept telling her not to give up on her father, but they had no idea who they were talking about. Now, she had given up and rarely spoke about God to him.
He sat down heavily on the chair. It's once cream color, now faded to an unsightly brown, with stains of food and drink. When he didn't eat in his work shop, he ate at that very chair, falling asleep before finishing, and in the morning, Jenny found the plate had fallen on his lap and the soup on the chair.