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Please, God, let that part of our weird push-and-pull be over. It felt as if we’d turned some kind of a corner, after what had happened today. Like she’d grasped something important from the day’s lesson. But the woman was so damn stubborn.
Despite the huge noise of the helicopter, Kat had passed out as soon as we left the ground. She felt safe enough to let down her guard. That was heartening.
I touched her as gently as I could after we landed, but she started awake anyway, like a spooked animal. “We’re here,” I told her. “And we’re safe.”
“Okay,” she muttered. “God, I can’t believe I conked out in all that noise.”
I undid the straps, helped her down out of the helicopter, and as soon as we were on the ground, I scooped her up into my arms.
Kat stiffened. “Oh, for God’s sake. Is this a thing for you?”
“You’re exhausted,” I said, in soothing tones. “You’ve just engaged in mortal combat. I almost lost you. You scared me out of my wits. Give me this much, Kat. Indulge me. I really think I’ve earned it.”
“You just keep pushing and pushing, you know? You just never stop!”
I couldn’t really deny that assertion, but she subsided without further struggling, glaring up at me and muttering under her breath.
When we got to my apartment, Angela hurried toward us, eyes big with alarm. “Is she hurt?”
“No,” we both said, in chorus.
“I’m fine. He’s just being an uber-macho dude,” Kat added.
“Well, so I should hope!” Angela said. “The boys told me what happened. Good God, Ethan! What were you thinking, racing off all alone?”
“I had to,” I said. “I got there just in time as it was.”
“Well, thank God you’re both safe,” Angela fussed, “I fixed you some dinner. Whenever you feel like having it, the platters are in the fridge, waiting for you.”
“Thanks, Angela. I think we’ll get a shower, first,” I said.
“Of course. Off you go! See you in the morning.”
I kept Kat in my arms, carrying her down the hall to my bedroom. She’d finally relaxed there, and now her head was cuddled against my chest. Outside the bedroom, I set her back onto her feet with great reluctance, opened the door, and ushered her in.
“Take a shower with me?” I suggested.
“Sounds great.”
We stripped down without ceremony, leaving our filthy, blood-spattered clothes in a tangled pile near the bedroom door and headed for the bathroom.
I adjusted the multi-directional showerheads in my big shower for her, and then spent the next half an hour or so running my hands over every inch of her body, taking note of bump, bruise, scratch, or scrape. Keeping score. Those bastards would pay.
Then Kat boldly soaped up and returned the favor, sliding her strong hands all over my shoulders, my back, my hips, then gripping my cock. Squeezing it, twisting and stroking until I gasped for breath, on the brink of a wild explosion.
After a few minutes of that, I couldn’t take anymore. I seized her, lifting her so she could wrap her thighs around my waist. The hot water stung in all my scratches and scrapes, but when she kissed me like that, I was so aroused, my skin interpreted it all as wild pleasure. Our tongues danced as she twined her leg around my waist, grabbing my cock to position it, nudging my cockhead into her slick, clinging warmth.
She made a shuddering moan of pleasure as I sank my cock slowly, deeply inside her. I gripped her ass and began pumping my cock slowly into her silken depths.
So sweet. Every pulsing surge better than the one before. We clung to each other, muscles trembling, trying to keep it slow, trying to make it last, but the intensity of the day’s events overcame us, and before we knew it, I had pinned her to the wall, and we were fucking wildly. Slick, hard, slamming strokes, and she egged me on, gasping, panting. Both of us straining together toward that wild release.
Then it took us, and flung out into a timeless forever, fused.
Sometime afterward, I finally managed to release my grip. I let her slide down until her feet touched the floor. We rinsed ourselves, and I slowly dried her off with long, sensual strokes of the towel, and swathed her in a fluffy terrycloth robe.
“Hungry? Whatever Angela left in the fridge is sure to be good,” I told her.
“I’m whipped, but I’m hungry, too,” she admitted. “Let’s check it out. A quick midnight snack, and then I think I’ll crash for three days straight.”
