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A dreamy feeling that to me feels just like a few moments have gone by, but once Misty cries out the time I know we’ve overslept.
A lot.
“It’s alright,” I tell her, stroking her hair back and kissing her neck. “What’s the hurry, we’ve got a bird to stuff and put a few things in an oven.”
She leans back into me, sighing for a different reason.
“I know,” she murmurs. “I just panicked for a second, like last night wasn’t real maybe.”
“Oh. It was real alright,” I remind her, flexing my renewed hardness against the small of her back, making her search it out by pressing into me even harder as she moans softly.
“And there’s plenty more where that came from,” I tell her, hoping for some more of last night’s magic but she seems determined to get up and do this Thanksgiving thing first.
“If only for Dad,” she says, creasing a smile and making us both remember how things panned out so we could be alone.
“I guess, he did ask me over to the other side of the world. A fresh start so I can give thanks to the country that started it all,” I remind myself.
“And so I can give thanks for you,” I tell her, pulling her back into bed, the gray light tracing lines across her body that makes her look more like an angel than ever to me.
My angel.
“So what’s it to be?” I tease her, feeling her under the covers, making her shiver and me harder than stone in a second.
“Meat?” I ask, brushing her mound, “Or potatoes first?” as I stroke her chest gently, feeling her nipples thicken.
“Both!” she says with conviction, rolling over on top of me, gasping as my hardness is pressed flat between her and me, my hands not moving from her.
“And I mean the Thanksgiving dinner we’re supposed to prepare,” she laughs.
Screwing my face up a little, I have to agree. “But surely, some breakfast first?” I suggest, moving so the tip of my hardness plays just at her entrance.
“You mean, coffee and toast?” she shudders.
“Yeah, I do,” I tell her, letting her off the hook. For now.
“But once breakfast and that dinner is underway, I want you back in here with-”
I stop mid-sentence, totally forgetting the one thing that means that probably can’t happen.
“I’ll check the phones,” Misty says, reading my mind, hopping off me and moving across the room so quickly I barely have time to take in her perfect form as it crosses the room.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” I murmur to myself, punching both hands back down on the bed in frustration, but grateful it held up through the night.
They just don’t make ‘em like this anymore.
“Phones are down, need to top up the generator too,” Misty calls out as I stretch a little before lifting myself to the edge of the bed.
I’m in shape, sure, but I know a pleasant ache when I feel one.
I hope Misty feels it too.
Scratching my chest I realize all my clothes are in my bag in the SUV still, I settle for nothing but my girl to warm me up as I head out to the kitchen.
Misty gasps then clutches me as soon as she sees me. “You’re really asking for it, mister,” she exclaims, and I feel her heart against me, thumping faster than a rabbit’s as I hold her close.
She’s found her robe and looks a perfect picture in the light pink satin as it clings to her curves.
Me?
I could go commando all day if it only meant easier access to her, but I set about stoking the fire and asking over my shoulder what she needs me to do, which makes her giggle loudly from the kitchen.
“I think you did it all last night,” she hollers back, and I groan at the memory, vowing to teach her just a little more the next chance I get.
I got so much more of that, Misty. All day and all for you if you want it.
Tossing some thick logs in the fireplace, they catch easy. Like my own fire.
In minutes there’s a roaring blaze in the living room and the warmth is welcoming.
I move over to the windows, overlooking the lake. The trees have all grown but it’s the same gentle slope I remember from years ago.
Glancing up at the sky I notice dark clouds rolling in, the rain getting heavier and a mist settling over the lake, making it almost hard to see.
“Have you ever seen anything like this, up here I mean?” I ask, turning to see Misty carrying a tray of coffee and bagels, which she almost drops as her eyes zoom in on my now almost permanent hard on.
“No. Never,” she gulps, and I laugh loudly.
“I mean this weather!” I exclaim, moving to help her before she loses everything.
“And I was gonna fix us breakfast,” I chide, kissing her softly on the lips.
