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His mouth on me. His tongueinme. His finger easing inside my wetness, making me see stars.
Him calling me his wife.
Happy sigh.
I feel like I have heart bubbles floating around my head, and it’s not just because of Rev and Grim…and Doc bringing levity to a morning of intimacy. It’s all of the men here. It’s feeling like I have a family again. It’s me beginning to understand my agency.
It’s being alive in a way I didn’t think I ever would again.
“Earth to Cora.”
I startle and realize Shep’s talking to me. “Sorry. Just…thinking.” I’m standing over an empty bowl and a cookie sheet filled with dumplings.
Shep laughs and kisses my cheek. “You’ve been finished with those dumplings a while now. Go on, take some time to yourself. You deserve it.”
I meet Shep’s happy, blue gaze. “No. You deserve it.” Shep works harder than anyone else here. “When do you get to rest? Every time I see you, you’re taking care of everyone else.” He even helped me spend time with Grim this morning by fetching that pen and paper. “When does Shep get taken care of?”
“Don’t worry over me, flower. I like being busy.”
“But you need rest, too. Everyone needs rest.”
“I got good rest the other night.” The corners of his eyes crinkle, and his lips form a soft smile in the center of his blond beard.
He’s talking about the night we spent together in my cabin, when he admitted he’d attempted suicide in the past, and cried himself to sleep in my arms. He definitely slept well, but I could argue that it wasn’t restful. Not the kind of rest he deserves, anyway.
I plan on showering him with attention on our next night together. Maybe we’ll even have Brawn join us, like I’ve been imagining. But why wait? I have agency, and right now, it’s making lewd suggestions about how I might show Shep how much I appreciate him.
“Um, hey, Shep?” I find him at the sink, washing the bowl that held the spicy meat mixture.
“What are you still doing here?” He lifts an eyebrow in mock scolding. “You should be doing something for yourself. Don’t you want to read a book or crochet or—”
“What I really want to do right now,” I interrupt, “is take care of you.” I lead him from the sink by his elbow to the nook between the industrial-sized refrigerator and the walk-in freezer. This corner is where the broom and mop are kept. It’s also the perfect size for a private tryst.
Following the urging of my agency, I grip a fistful of Shep’s frilly apron and I back him into the corner. His wide shoulders knock the broom askew, and his foot nudges the mop bucket, but I ignore the clatter.
“What are you doing?” he asks, eyes wide with something between concern and amusement.
“I’m doing something fun. You want me to have fun, don’t you?” I reach under his apron. I don’t know why the frills work for me, but they do. Something about this muscled former wrestler donning something traditionally feminine makes me hot. The apron blocks my view, so I feel my way to his belt and pull the leather through the buckle by touch alone.
The look on his face as he registers what I’m planning is priceless.
Feeling light and free and extremely aroused, I open his jeans and feel out his semi-hard penis. It’s jutting from a lush cushion of hairs that have no business being as soft as they are. Feeling him under the apron is nice, but I need to do more than just feel him. I want toseehim.
Lifting the frills with one hand, I go to my knees and duck my head underneath the apron. Thanks to the afternoon light in the kitchen filtering through the fabric, I can make out the dark blond nest of hair and the thickening member growing longer in my hands.
The sight makes my mouth water.
When I give in to my hunger and guide him between my lips, he groans. Through the apron, the rubbery grip of damp dishwashing gloves makes a secure support for my head. With his thumbs, Shep strokes over my ears. His fingertips gently massage my scalp.
I groan too, because inside my mouth, he’s growing even thicker and longer. Harder. Shep is huge all over, and his penis matches him perfectly. It is simply magnificent.
“Mmmm.”I moan with appreciation as I move up and down on him and drag his scent into my lungs. It’s like freshly-baked cookies being served alongside a glass of ice wine. My eyes close, and I become absorbed in the act of giving pleasure. I find comfort in the trembling of Shep’s thighs and the harsh breaths coming from above my little tent-o-fun. I feel powerful because of the way he tenses all over and can’t stop himself from thrusting into my mouth with tiny, uncontrollable jabs.
All too soon, Shep delivers a creamy cocktail into my eager mouth, and there’s so much it dribbles down my chin. Greedy for every drop, I use my thumb to squeegee it to where my tongue can catch it.
I’m still licking my lips when I emerge from under the apron. Above me, Shep’s chest heaves with rapid breaths, and his cheeks are flushed. His eyes flutter open, and when they find me, they’re filled with blue lightning.
“My flower.” He peels off his gloves and lifts me into a hot, wet kiss.
