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“Not all of it!”
He frowned at her. A tricky situation indeed, he’d already found a bag of Christmas gifts hidden in the back of the closet, not that he’d looked or anything. He didn’t want her buying him even more presents. Hawk himself had bought them both plane tickets to visit Isabel again in New Mexico in the spring. It had taken a while and no small amount of luck to track the woman down. They talked on the phone every week, but both women were anxious to get together.
“You didn’t need to do that,” he told her.
“It’s just one gift,” she insisted. “A little one.”
“How little?”
“Teeny tiny.”
He considered this and could accept it. Maybe she would let him have it. He wasn’t supposed to know about the gifts in the closet, but he knew about this one. “Can I open it?”
“It’s not Christmas.”
“Please.”
She sighed and picked up the bag. “Okay,” she relented. She dug through the bag and came up with a small white box. Intrigued, Hawk pried the lid off. Inside he found a gold medallion. He held it up to the light. “St. David of Wales,” he read.
Tildy nodded. “Patron saint of poets and vegetarians.”
“Poets,” he repeated dryly.
“And vegetarians.”
“I am neither of these things, Tildy,” he reminded her, offended that she was casting aspersions on his manhood. “I am neither of these things, and I’m going to prove it.”
She eyed him skeptically. “How?”
“Vegetarians don’t eat pussy.” He ripped off his towel and let it drop to the floor. Tildy shrieked as he picked her up and carried her into the bedroom. He tossed her onto the bed and crawled up over her.
“Ah, you’re wet!” she protested.
“Pretty soon you will be too; then you won’t care,” he told her confidently.
He took off her boots and threw them on the floor. Her pants came down slowly, then he unbuttoned her shirt. Tildy, finally catching up to his raging libido, reached up to help him, but he pushed her hands away. All his playfulness moments ago was now forgotten.
“Don’t ruin my other present,” he hissed as he resumed undressing her.
“What?”
Hawk opened her blouse and pulled down her bra, revealing her breasts to him. He licked one and then kissed her on the mouth as he carefully tugged at her panties. “You’re a gift, Angel,” he whispered. “You’re worth the time it takes to unwrap you.”
He peeled her clothes off achingly slowly, nibbling at the bare flesh revealed. When her panties were completely off, he pushed her thighs apart and fastened his mouth on her pussy. Tildy cried out and lifted her hips to his face. She was the perfect combination of sweet and salty. Hawk plunged his tongue inside her, savoring her.
He was patient, generously swiping at her clit as she writhed. He could never tell if she held off on purpose, but it didn’t matter. They both knew he wasn’t finished until she was. Tildy could orgasm two, sometimes three times a night, they’d discovered. He fingered her as he pulled her hardened nub into his mouth. Her hips rose again. This would be a quick one, he realized. She came loudly, coating his fingers.
Tildy, breathing heavily, pushed him onto his back. She couldn’t really manhandle him of course; she was too petite for that. But he’d come to learn that doing whatever she wanted had its own kind of reward.
Her slick, orgasm-tightened pussy slid down and enveloped his shaft, another thing Hawk would never tire of. Tildy riding him bare felt good enough to make angels weep. She took the length of him inside her, squeezing hard. She liked to tease him that way. Over the last few months, he’d gotten used to barebacking her, could hold out longer–usually. Sometimes though, Tildy was too much, and she’d learned so many ways to torment him.
She leaned down, dangling a nipple tantalizingly over his mouth. When he craned his neck to taste it, she pulled back, giggling. He growled and grabbed her shoulders, pulling her down hard. “Mine,” he snarled and bit her gently. Tildy moaned, and Hawk felt the walls of her pussy closing in on him. With both of them ripe for an orgasm, he thrust up his hips and slammed deep inside her. Seconds later, his seed jetted into her as she clamped down on him. He loved it when they finished together. Tildy collapsed on top of him with his cock still seated inside her.
After a few moments, she brushed her lips over his ear. “David,” she whispered. As intense as things sometimes got, she still needed this part, the cuddling, and the intimacy. Over time, Hawk realized he needed it too.
Tildy trailed her fingertips up and down his chest. “Saint David’s father was a king and his mother was a saint herself,” she told him. “His father raped his mother, and she fled south to give birth.”
