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Bella's Touch by Ferrell, Suzanne (6)

Chapter Six

 

Metal clanged against metal.

“Dang it,” Arrabella muttered as she set the empty pail by the tin hip tub she’d dragged out of the pantry and in front of the fireplace.

A glance at the closed bedroom door told her the noise hadn't woken Michael.

Good. After all he’d been through last night and up early to care for the animals, he’d come back to bed to sleep longer.

Using a dishtowel to grip the handle of the second bucket, she lifted it and poured more steaming hot water into the tub. By the time she collected and heated two more pails of snow, once this melted she’d be able to have a nice warm bath to take the chill off the cold, winter morning.

Once again she bundled up in her heavy coat and carried the buckets out onto the porch. Her feet sank knee-deep in the snowdrift that covered the porch as she scooped more snow into the buckets.  Setting the pails by the door for a moment, she stared out at the white-and-black landscape.

How had Michael managed to get from the porch to the barn through all this ice and snow?

A rope stretching from the porch rail to the barn door. Ingenious. Michael might be wallowing in self-pity, but he’d planned ahead to care for his animals and not get caught out in the blizzard.

The freezing temperature quickly seeped through her clothing, so she hefted the buckets and dragged them into the house. The heat from the fireplace hit her as soon as she entered the cabin.

Pulling out the hooks, she hung both pails over the fire once more, then unbundled, staring out the kitchen window at the frozen land. Sleet had pelted the house most of the day and evening yesterday, turning to light snow before dark. When had the heavens dumped this much snow on them? Why hadn’t she noticed?

A different kind of heat warmed her as she remembered how she'd passed the time.

Had she really bound Michael to the bed like some male concubine for her to use to slake her own lust?

Oh, she’d had good intentions. She’d been angry that he intended to ship her back east like unwanted baggage. What angered her even more was his belief that he was no longer an artist. She’d always loved, and if she were honest with herself, envied his talent.

The image of him spread-eagled, naked and tied helplessly to the bed, sent more heat to the juncture of her thighs. If she were being totally honest, she had to admit that it felt delightfully sinful to have him at her mercy while she taught him a lesson about his talents.

“What are you doing, Bella?” Michael’s deep voice sounded behind her.

Startled, she turned to find him leaning against the bedroom doorway—gloriously naked.

The breath caught in her throat as she studied him. His shaggy hair and beard made him look dangerous. Arms folded over his chest, exposing the long ragged scar circling his ribs on his right side. The firm muscles of his abdomen making her want to run her fingers across them again. His narrow hips and the thick, lean muscles of his legs where he had one crossed in front of the other. His long naked feet.

Even in the cold of the day, he warmed her body with a rush of need and longing so strong she actually drooled.

Then her gaze focused on his manhood. Which grew and thickened.

Her gaze snapped to his face. Surely he couldn’t… No, he still had that unfocused look to his eyes, even though he faced her straight on.

“I can feel your eyes on me, Bella.” He uncrossed his arms and legs, striding in her direction and somehow avoiding the corner of the table. “Isn’t that what you wanted me to learn last night? That I’m more than just my eyesight?”

“Yes.” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed the lump that had formed there. “I wanted you to realize you are an artist in every one of your senses, not just your eyesight.”

The corner of his mouth turning up in a mischievous smirk, he reached up to cup her face. “Believe me, I understood exactly what you were trying to teach me last night. The lesson made its point. Now, what I want to know is what you’re doing and what you have planned next.”

“A bath,” she managed to get past the lump in her throat his nearness had caused.

“Now that’s something I wish I could see.” His smile deepened.

Seeing the more relaxed Michael she knew before the war, Bella smiled, too. “I thought you might like one.”

“You going to join me?”

“I doubt there will be room. Besides, I’d like to shave some of this off,” she said, tugging gently on his long beard.

He leaned in to nuzzle her neck, tickling her with his beard. “Hm, a beautiful woman to give me a shave? I think I could suffer a bath just for that.”

“Good. I have warm water in the tub already and more heating on the fire. Get in and I’ll heat it up when it cools.” With a gentle push on his chest, she got him to loosen his hold then slipped her arm inside his and led him over to the tub. “Can I trim your hair, too?”

Holding on to her with one hand, he climbed into the tub. “Ahh,” he said in almost a moan as he slid into the water.

“Like that, do you?” She couldn't help chuckling at the look of pure pleasure on his face.

“Been a long time.” He leaned his head back against the rim and closed his eyes.

“Hair first?” she asked.

In answer, he slid down, submerging his head completely under the water then back out.  Bella lathered soap in his thick dark hair, working her fingers through it down to his scalp.

“God, that feels heavenly.”

“You can rinse now.”

She laughed as he sank back under the water. This was more like the carefree artist she’d fallen in love with.

When he surfaced, he shook his wild mane like a shaggy dog, soaking everything around him, including her.

“Ahh!” she yelped, jumping back, but the damage was done. “Great, now look what you've done.”

The devilish smile he gave her took any starch out of her anger. “Wish I could. Maybe you should come closer and let me have a feel?”

“Oh, no. You’re not getting out of a haircut that easily.” But she couldn’t stand around in a soaked gown, either. Smiling, she unbuttoned her bodice. Wiggling out of her gown, she laid it on a chair near the fire to dry. Since the bath water hadn’t soaked through to her chemise and the room was toasty warm, she decided not to get her robe.

Reaching onto the table, she picked up her scissors and comb. “Lean your head back so I can trim it up.”

“Yes, ma’am.” With a deep chuckle he complied, letting his head rest on the rim of the tub and exposing the long column of his neck. It took all of Arrabella’s willpower not to lean in and suckle along the length of it—to savor the salty taste of his skin. Shaking off the sensual need, she began combing his thick mane of dark, wavy hair.

“I’ve been thinking about last night,” Michael said, his voice husky as she combed and trimmed his hair.

Heat filled her face as she remembered her wanton behavior in taking advantage of him.  She swallowed before answering. “You  have?”

“I realize you wanted me to open my other senses in a way to tap into my talent.” He paused and she had a feeling there was something more he wanted to say. Patiently, she finished cutting his hair, allowing him to gather his thoughts.

“And?” she prompted when his silence grew uncomfortable.

“Something happened.”

Curious now, she laid the scissors aside and leaned forward, cradling his head between her breasts. Slowly, she slid her hands over the slick, wet skin of his shoulders then down over the hairs lightly covering his chest. “Something good or bad?”

“Something odd.” Grasping her hands, he stilled them on his chest. “When you were riding me hard and deep I had a vision.”

“You saw something?” Her breath caught slightly, hope edging her words.

“No, love. My sight will never return. The doctors assured me of that.” He gently stroked a thumb over her left hand as if to comfort her. “What I had was the vision of you carved in stone in just that position—riding my cock.”

“Oh, my.” If possible, more heat surged through her.

A deep chuckle rumbled through him. “I had the same reaction, but close on its heels another image flashed in my brain.”

“Of what?”

“A huge river stone not too far from here. I used to climb all over it as a kid. It would be perfect for carving. And, this may sound strange to you, but I believe I’m meant to carve that image of you from that particular stone.”

Leaning over, she pressed a kiss to his forehead. “It doesn’t sound odd at all to me.”

“It doesn’t?”

“No. It’s said that when someone asked Michelangelo about how he could carve such a beautiful image, he replied, ‘I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free’. Perhaps it is the same for you.”

His lips turned up in that mischievous grin that first won her heart. “I can definitely see you in that stone.”

“I’m serious.” She gave his chest a playful slap.

“Oh, so am I, my Bella. Once this snow thaws, I think we should venture down to the river and see if we can locate the rock and haul it back here.”

“You’ll do it? You’ll turn your talent to carving?” She couldn’t keep the excitement and hope from her voice.

Grasping her hand, he lifted it to his face to place a soft kiss in her palm. “I had no intention of ever trying to make art again, but last night, when the vision of you carved in stone was followed so quickly by the vision of the stone itself, I felt the calling.”

“The calling?”

“When I was young and just starting to realize I had a talent for drawing and painting, I’d get these sudden flashes of images I wanted to capture. My mind wouldn’t let it go. It became a craving, a need to get the picture out of my head onto paper.” Holding her hand, he continued stroke his thumb over her knuckles, his voice trailing off as if he were remembering those days. “My father, the bastard, believed I was possessed, especially when he’d been drinking too much. Maybe he was right, as I couldn’t rest or do anything else until the image had been purged from my mind, not even with his fists pounding away on me.”

“Dear God.” She pressed another kiss to his temple. “I never realized—”

“Shh, love. There was no way you could know. Besides, those beatings drove me out of this house to Boston to study art. That’s where I knew the craving was more of a calling. The moment I met you, I knew I’d been meant to paint you. Now I’m meant to carve you from stone.” He released her hand. “Now, do you think you could warm up this water a little?”

“Why, yes sir, I believe I could.” Laughing, she grabbed a towel and went to the fireplace. She lifted one pail and slowly poured the water in near his feet.

“Careful, love. Let’s not burn anything we might want to use later,” he said, scooting up in the tub to give her room to pour more.

“What? Are you afraid I might revert back to torturing you like I did last night?” she teased. Finished pouring in the first pail of water, she did the same with the second.

“Mmm, that does feel nice.” He sank back into the water, but snagged her hand just as she passed by the side of the tub. “I was thinking you might want to help me wash?”

The huskiness in his voice and the rising of his cock told her he had more than bathing on his mind. Washing him, running her soapy hands all over him, suddenly sounded like a perfect idea to her, too.

Using the soap and washcloth, she started with his hands and arms, firmly working the long muscles from his fingertips to his shoulders. Then she moved closer to work her hands over the expanse of his chiseled chest and abdomen. He moaned deeply as she worked. After rinsing off the sandalwood-scented soap she’d found among his things, she shifted and started on his feet.

“Oh, yes, that feels like heaven,” he said, followed by another moan as she worked her hands over his feet for several minutes.

Watching the pleasure on his face and his body relaxing as she moved up his firm legs, she took her own pleasure in the feel of each defined muscle. Heat filled her face once more as she realized her gaze had focused on the straining pole of his manhood.

“That’s it, love,” he murmured as she worked closer to his groin, arching his body up to meet her hands as if begging her to continue.

She stopped a moment, dropping the cloth and lathering soap on her hands. Gently, she ran them down his shaft. “Is this what you want? To feel my hands here?”

“God, yes.” He clenched his ass cheeks and thrust up to meet her cupped hands as she stroked him from base to tip.

Dampness swelled at the juncture of her thighs as she pumped her hands up and down his thick cock. The desire to let her mouth follow suit had her rocking on her knees as if she were already riding him.

Keeping one hand stroking him, she slipped the other down to cup his balls, working them round and round. A drop of clear liquid escaped the tip of his cock as she continued to slide her hand over the shaft. She was rewarded with another deep moan from Michael. Then he slid his hand up her arm to still the hand on his cock.

“Stop, love,” he said, his voice thick with need.

“Michael?” she asked as she curiously looked at his face. His beautiful unfocused blue eyes stared in her direction, his jaw working against the strain of stopping her from taking him to completion.

“Not yet, Bella.” His voice still sounded strained, as if he were fighting for control.

“Why? You’re so close.”

“Don’t remind me.” He gave a harsh chuckle as he eased her hands from him. “But there’s something else I want more right now.”

“More than this?”

“Oh, yes. I’ve wanted it ever since last night.” Slowly he drew her up toward the top of the tub. “Climb in.”

“There’s not room.”

“For what I have in mind, there is. Take off your slip and climb in right up here.” He pointed to the sides of his chest.

Following his instructions she pulled her chemise off and laid it on the table near the tub. Grasping his hand she stepped into the warm water, her feet straddling his chest.

“Perfect,” he murmured as he brought both hands down to cup the back of her calves. Slowly, he stroked up her legs, tickling her slightly at her knees then continuing up her thighs, his strong, callused hands leaving a trail of awareness humming through her body. “When you were impressing upon me the importance all my senses have on my art, there was one that intrigued me more. I didn’t get quite enough of it last night.”

“Which one was that?” she asked as he scooted up in the tub. Just high enough so his face was level with her lower abdomen and his mouth—dear God, his mouth was even with her sex.

“Taste.”

“Oh.”

“Put your hands behind your neck and come closer,” he ordered her as he pulled her thighs toward his face. The coarse hairs of his beard tickled her inner thighs as he paused to inhale. “I love your scent. It haunted me every day I was gone from you.”

“It did?” She laced her fingers together behind her neck, slowly dragging air into her lungs as his warm breath caressed the nub of desire at the junction of her womanhood.

“Mmm, yes. I’ve been trying for months to drink it out of my mind, but you always haunted my dreams.” He pressed his nose into the soft hairs covering her sex then slipped his tongue in along the moist slit.

Her knees shook. “Oh, Michael.”

“So sweet, love.” He repeated the move—slowly, softly, as if savoring a rare delicacy.

Her eyes drifted closed as he spread her slit with his tongue, dipping it farther inside while sliding his hands up her thighs to press her closer. Heat coursed up her body as her own juices flowed to meet the smooth strokes of his tongue.

It had been so long. A moan escaped her and he chuckled, the sound vibrating against her sending more shivers running through her body.

“Like that, do you?”

“I missed you doing this as much as you missed doing it.” Just to tease him, she wiggled her hips forward and back.

A smart man, he took the invitation, lapping at her until her thighs shook with the effort to keep her vertical.

“Michael…” she whispered, unable to get anything more out when his lips latched on to the nub of pleasure at the top of her nether lips.

Clenching her ass cheeks and tightening her thighs, she thrust her hips forward. He suckled her slowly at first then pulling with more force. Water sloshed over the sides of the tub as she began to buck wildly.

“Oh, God, oh God, Michael...I can’t…”

He pulled harder.

She shattered.

“Oh…Michael…” she mumbled, her body clenched in spasm as the nectar of her passion flowed to his lips. Reaching down, she slid her fingers into his thick hair and pulled him in tighter. He wiggled his tongue against the nub then back along the slit, sending more currents of sizzling heat through her.

After lapping at her as if drinking in her juices, he slowly moved his head back. Tilting his head up, he licked his lips like a cat finished with a bowl of cream. The pleasure on his face at helping her find her own release filled her heart.

“You’re so sweet, Bella.”

She bent her head down to kiss him, tasting her own flavor on his lips, something that always made her feel a little more than naughty. With more need than grace, she lowered into the still slightly warm water to straddle his hips with her knees—the tip of his throbbing cock pressing against her swollen pussy.

Before she could shift her weight and sink down onto his thick shaft, he grasped her hips and kept her poised just over the tip.

“Michael?” she asked in almost a whimper--her need to have him inside her so acute.

“Before I give you what you want, I want your promise.”

“My promise?” What was he talking about?

“You are never to tie me up again.”

“I promise,” she said with a smile and tried to push her pussy over his cock head.

He gripped her tighter, stopping her actions. “I mean it, Bella. We go no further until you agree. You will never restrain me again without my express permission. On this you will obey me. Especially out here. It isn't safe like back in Boston.”

The tone in his voice warned her he meant business. He’d never thrust his cock inside her again if she didn’t agree, no matter how much she might want or beg for it, no matter how much he might want it. Something else was in his words, his voice. He was taking control again—not just of their sex now and for the future. No, he was telling her he was the male, the dominant of them, just as he’d been with her before the war.

“I promise to obey you, Michael. I promise never to tie you down again.” She leaned forward, pressing her mouth to his. “I trust you to keep me safe.”

With a growl he pulled her hips down and thrust upward, impaling her on his cock.

“Ahh,” she moaned, her body stretching to accommodate his girth and length, but still tight around it. Nothing felt so good, so perfect as being joined to Michael like this.

As she sat straighter, he leaned forward to take a nipple into his mouth, suckling on the taut tip and sending more heat to her throbbing core. With his warm hands on her ass cheeks, he started rocking her forward and back, his shaft gliding out then back in even farther. She clenched around him with each new thrust, eliciting muffled moans from him around her nipple.

Beneath her his body tightened, his leg muscles hard between her calves. His chest heaved under her hands with his effort to breathe as he worked her up and down, using her to take himself closer to his own release, at the same time taking her higher. A symphony of crescendos—each sensation building upon the other until she reached the precipice.

With one final thrust, he held her tight against him, his body filling her with his seed and sending her over the edge as spasms of pleasure coursed through her and she milked every bit of his passion into her body.

She collapsed on top of him—a heap of weak muscles no longer capable of holding her vertical. Despite her breath coming hard and heavy, satiated pleasure filled her completely. His arms folded around her, securing her tightly to him as he fought his own recovery, their hearts beating in tandem in her ears where her head rested on his chest.

Time passed slowly, but finally the water cooled enough to rouse her from her sensual bliss. A shiver passed through her, and he ran his warm hands firmly over her back and down over her bottom.

“Cold?” he whispered against the top of her head.

She lifted her head. “I think we’d both better get out of this tub before we catch the lung ague. And I never got to soak in the hot water,” she said with a mock pout.

Sinking one hand into her hair, he brought her mouth to his, kissing her slow and deep then releasing her. “I’m sorry I stole all your bath. Why don't you finish while I see to the animals? Then we can continue this snuggled under the warm quilts.”

“Mmm, that sounds good.”

He spanked her on one ass cheek. “Then climb off me, woman,” he said with a chuckle to take the sting out of the smack.

Sloshing water over the edge of the tub, she wiggled up and off his body, immediately missing his body heat.  He followed her up, pulling her tight against him. “Don’t stay in here too long. I plan to ravish you the rest of the day.”

He grasped her shoulder to steady himself as he felt for the edge of the tub. Refusing to ruin the progress they’d made last night and today by treating him as a helpless invalid, she held still and resisted the urge to help him as he stepped from the tub. As he found a towel on the table where she’d laid them and began drying himself, she sank into the tepid water to quickly scrub with her soapy cloth.

Only once he was dressed and headed out into the cold did she close her eyes.

Michael wasn’t the only one who had to adjust to living without his eyesight. If they were to have a future she was going to have to learn when to help him and when he needed to succeed or fail on his own.

 

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