As I watched, he poured the honey al over me, covering my panties and making me squeal. He stood back to admire. “Look at that, those are
ruined. They’re going to have to come off,” he said as he came close again. I stopped him with a marmalade foot.
“You first, Mr. Man,” I instructed, nodding at his flour-covered boxers. He raised an eyebrow, and dropped the boxers. Standing naked in my
wreck of a kitchen, he was insanely cute.
In that instant, Heart, Brain, Backbone, and LC lined up on one side of the playground. They beckoned for Nerves, waving her over like a game
of Red Rover. I looked at Simon, naked and floury and perfect, and I sighed with a giant smile. Nerves final y, blessedly, scampered over, and we
were final y al on the same page.
“I fucking love you, Simon.”
“I love you too, Nightie Girl. Now lose the panties and gimme some sugar.”
“Come and get it,” I laughed, sitting up and sliding my panties down my honey-dripped legs. I threw them at him, and they hit his chest with a
loud thwack, the honey dripping everywhere.
“We’re going to need one hel uva shower after al this,” I remarked as he wrapped me in his sticky arms.
“That’l be round two.” He smiled, picking me up and carrying me to the bedroom, my body aligned with his, only the apron between us. And
that wasn’t going to keep us apart for long.
Did I need an O? I mean, was it necessary for life? Being near Simon, being so close to him, wrapped up in his arms and feeling him move
inside me, was it enough?
For now, it was. I loved him, you see…
He dropped me on the bed, and I bounced a little, rol ing sideways and making the headboard bang a bit.
“You gonna bang my wal s, Simon?” I laughed.
“You have no idea,” he promised, and scrunched my apron out of the way as I sighed and threw my arms over my head. I lazed backward, with
a giant smile on my face. His fingers walked down over my tummy, my hips, my thighs, final y reaching me. After a gentle nudge, I let my legs fal
open. He licked his lips and sank to his knees.
He touched and tasted me as he had in Spain, but it was different. It stil felt amazing, but I was different. I was relaxed. Twisting and turning his
fingers, he found that spot, the one that made my back arch and my moans grow deep. He groaned into me, causing me to arch off the bed again,
his lips and tongue finding me once more, deliberate. My hands sought my breasts, and as he watched, I teased my nipples, bringing them taut
once more.
Again, I had the distinct honor of feeling his mouth, his wonderful mouth, on me. I seized up, my entire body tensing at the sizzle of energy that
ran through me, and then I relaxed once more. I started to feel, real y feel everything going on inside at that moment. Love. I felt love. And I felt
loved…
Here in the daytime, where nothing could be hidden, everything was on display—and covered in messy stuff—I was being loved by this man.
No fairy tale, no waves crashing, no flickering candles. Real life. A real life fairy tale where I was being loved by this man. And I mean looooved by
this man.
Tongue. Lips. Fingers. Hands. Al of it dedicated to me and my pleasure. A girl could get used to this.
I could feel the sweet tension begin to build, but this time my body received it differently. My body, perfectly in tune for once, was ready, and in
my mind, behind closed eyes, I saw myself begin to approach that cliff. In my head, I grinned, because I knew this time I was gonna catch that bitch.
And then? Real y amazing things began to happen down below. Long gorgeous fingers pressed inside me, twisting, and curving, and finding that
secret spot. Lips and tongue encircled that other spot, sucking and licking, pressing and pulsing. Tiny pricks of light began to dance behind my
eyelids, intense and wild.
“Oh, God…Simon…that’s so…good…don’t…stop…don’t…stop…”
I groaned loud, louder, and then louder stil , unable to contain the sounds I was making. It was so good, so good, so very, very good, so close,
so close…
And then the screaming began. And it was not my own.
Out of the corner of my eye, I became aware of some kind of furry missile racing across the floor.
Like some kind of pussified dive bomb, Clive ran at Simon, leaped, and dug into his back, attacking him from behind.
Simon ran from the bedroom into the hal way, then back in again, Clive stil latched on like some kind of rabid coonskin back cap that would
not shake off. He had his arms—does a cat have arms?—wrapped around Simon’s neck in a way that under other circumstances would have
seemed like an adorable cat hug. But right now, he meant business.