Chapter 15: Fire in the Desert

Mariska

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Kenny sat beside me in the White Lotus tattoo parlor. She worked quickly on the sketch pad in front of her, covering it with carbon and quickly tracing out the S-shaped pattern of little stars.

“You want this to start at your hip and curl up your ribs?” Her dark brows pulled together.

“Yes.”

She picked up the sponge and dampened my skin before applying the stencil to my side. Once it was in place, she took the tattoo gun and screwed the black ink into the base.

“It shouldn’t hurt too much,” she said. “I try to have a light touch.”

“I trust you.” It was the first time I’d ever gotten a tattoo, and all I could think of was the night we’d sat under the stars and talked. The night Stuart told me his dreams, and I hinted at mine.

The first touch was a stinging pain, but not unbearable. Kenny’s blue eyes flickered to my face, gauging my response. I blinked back at her and smiled.

“It’s okay.”

She continued working. “It won’t take long since you don’t want color.” She was already on the second little star. “What made you choose stars?”

“A few reasons.” My chin rested on my hand as I leaned forward. “Yaya is with the stars, and I feel close to her when I look at them.”

She didn’t answer right away, and when she did, her voice told me she was concentrating. “Want me to fill in a few of these? To make it more of a design?”

“You’re the artist.”

“You’re an artist, too.” She winked. “You should paint. It’ll take your mind off things.”

“I’ve been planning something.” My voice was quiet.

The stinging grew worse as she filled in a few black stars. “Any other reason you chose this?”

Stuart’s face in the firelight, the way he held me against his chest. Wishing on that star. “A dream. It’s far away now, but maybe this will make it feel closer.”

We didn’t talk as she finished, and before long she was straightening up. “You’re all set. Want to see?”

I walked with her to the full-length mirror in the back and examined the small constellation curving up my side. Only the slightest pink tinge was around the edges, making it stand out more. “It’s perfect!”

Kenny laughed. “Another satisfied customer.”

I traced my fingers lightly over the scattering of stars. They were so confident, almost magical. “I don’t know why, but it gives me hope.”

My friend wrapped her arms over my shoulders and leaned her head against mine. “I know it’s going to work out,” she whispered. “It has to.”

* * *

I’d started a new painting. Pete kept asking me to go out with him, but I couldn’t imagine anything less appealing than spending time with another guy when I only wanted one man. So I stretched a large canvass and gathered my oil paints.

Starting out, I experimented with a Georgia O’Keefe style—bold colors and oversized images examined in anatomical detail. My mind was in the desert, and as I painted the image transformed. I closed my eyes and revisited my nightmare. Fiery yellows and oranges flowed from the brush. It was a volcano, rising in an inverted V and wrapping all the emotions we’d shared in a sheath of red and purple. I didn’t know how long I worked, pouring all the feelings I’d had since the beginning of my journey with him into the lines and shades of the canvas. When I stopped, it was dark outside and my eyes were heavy.

Dropping the brush in a jar of turp, I left it for now. I’d look at it in the morning and decide if it was worth a damn. For now I needed to sleep. Paint was on my fingers and in the tips of my hair, even though I’d tied it up in a high ponytail.

I washed my hands in the sink and brushed my teeth. Not worrying about the bits in my hair, I pulled off my tunic top and leggings and tossed them on my hamper. Sliding between the sheets in only my panties, I was asleep the moment my head touched the pillow.

––––––––

A burst of white melted into screams of missiles flying overhead. Another noise. Another explosion. Looking down, I wore a long, beige robe that billowed and flowed around my legs. My head was covered in a beige scarf.

It was different, yet the same. I was in this place, but I was in my own body. Instead of fleeing the destruction, I ran toward it. Something was pulling me further. I needed to keep going. Then I saw him lying there. Fear seized in my chest, but he moved. He was alive! He was alive and he needed me.

I ran faster towards him, hard as I could. A cramp stabbed my ribs, but I didn’t stop until I was at his side. I stretched out my hand and touched his cheek. His skin was so hot, I moved my hand down to his neck. He turned his head and looked up. Our eyes met...

With a gasp, I sat straight up in my bed. My chest rose and fell like a bellows as I tried to calm my breathing. My whole body shook, and light sweat covered my skin.

It was the first time I’d had the nightmare since Montana, but it had changed. Instead of looking through his eyes, I was there, seeing him with mine.

Was it prophetic? Was it a dream of the past? I reached for my dream journal and wrote down everything I could remember—the colors, the sounds, the feeling of desperation. I lay back on my bed and closed my eyes, trying to see it all again. A little tremor of fear moved through me, and I said a silent prayer.

Please be okay, my love.

* * *

Stuart

I was on fire. The burning in my legs was overwhelming. My skin was frying off my muscles, leaving me bleeding and exposed. Excruciating pain tore through me, and I couldn’t even scream. I was back in the paralyzed state, lying on the sand under the blazing-white sun.

Where was Derek? Had I lost him? Had the hands that dragged me away gone back for him or had they presumed he was dead? I had to get up from here. My heart beat too hard with all the adrenaline surging in my veins.

Again burning flayed my senses. Fuck! It hurt like hell! I couldn’t make it stop. I tried to pull away, but my body was useless. I was going to die here in torment, twisting in the fires of hell. Pain scattered my thoughts until something changed.

A cool hand touched my forehead. I groaned in response to the small taste of relief. It moved to my cheek and smoothed back the sweat dripping from my brow. A small thumb pulled at my bottom lip, and I opened my jaw in response. Cool water touched my tongue.

Cool water... The memory of a kiss...

It was so good, my bones revived. My eyes that had been squinted shut in agony relaxed, and I blinked away the stinging drops of sweat. Searching for the source of comfort, I strained my neck. I hadn’t been able to make my body respond since the explosion. It didn’t matter.

The cool hand touched my cheek again. It was such a loving touch, so full of comfort. Feather-light locks of hair tickled my cheek. She leaned down and the scent of jasmine flooded my senses.

Opening my eyes, I looked up to see...

Sunset.

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The dream replayed in my mind like a movie on repeat as I walked through the concourse. I couldn’t shake it no matter what I tried to focus on.

Heading back usually hyped me up. It was the only time I felt truly happy.

Until now.

It was all fucked up.

For almost twenty years, I’d gone to airports like this one, handed over my ID and bag, and waited for the long flight to the other side of the globe. I didn’t overthink it. It was my plan. It was exactly what I wanted to do. I went after the action. I lived to be in the zone. It was what I was made for.

Until now.

God dammit.

Metal benches lined the interior of the ticketing area. I stopped and sat on one, placing my pack between my feet. Again the dream replayed in my head, again I felt my body’s visceral reaction to her touch. The intense longing when I saw her eyes that jolted me awake and left me reaching for her in the darkness.

Placing my head in my hands, I rubbed my forehead. Everything had changed, and it was time I got my head out of my ass.

* * *

Mariska

The Jungle Gym was only open a few hours on Sunday, and for the first time, I was so glad. Usually, I enjoyed spending the afternoon visiting with the gang, trying new smoothie recipes. None of it made me happy anymore.

Patrick and Elaine had decided to get married in Montana. They wanted to have their wedding at the ranch house and the reception at the Sip-n-Dip. Patrick had sent plane tickets for all of us.

Kenny was working on vacation times and travel arrangements for Slayde to leave the state. I was working on my excuses.

Elaine insisted I be one of her bridesmaids, but I couldn’t do it. Even though I knew Stuart had left the country, I couldn’t go back there for a wedding. The pain of my last night with him still throbbed in my chest like ice water hitting a sore tooth.

“She’s planning the whole thing Boho Ranch.” Kenny was inside the bar with me leaning against the counter. “She wants you to be there as creative consultant.”

“You’re just as creative as I am.” My friend had been lobbying for this since the day Patrick’s email about plane tickets arrived.

“We’ve never taken a girls’ trip. We might never get this chance again!”

“Don’t be such a pessimist. I might win the lottery.”

Her eyes narrowed, but I wasn’t feeling as happy as my tone suggested. I wanted to go home and paint.

The vibrant yellow, orange, and red abstract I’d made had turned out really well. I was calling it “Fire in the Desert,” and I wanted to see what new feelings I might exorcize with a vigorous night of art-therapy. Last night I’d stretched a new canvass, and I was thinking of an impressionist version of the colt.

Bill’s musings about gentling him and spending time with him, teaching him and still being thrown swirled in my head like a metaphor.

“Patrick’s already reserved four tickets. You have one more week. Just think about it.”

I was tired of arguing, so I only nodded. A quick glance at the clock told me it was three forty-five. The club closed in fifteen minutes. I’d already cleaned all the blenders and wiped down the counters.

“Would you mind covering for me? I’d really like to cut out early.”

“Only if you promise to think about it.” Kenny stepped forward and kissed my cheek.

“I promise,” I sighed, rolling my eyes.

Sliding my lanyard into my cubby, I ducked under the counter and headed for the door.

* * *

Deep blues, olive greens and brown. Tonight I started with as much of the landscape as I could remember. A lot of it had been brown prairie grass, but when Elaine and I had driven to town, I’d seen more variety—silver spruce trees, red rock formations, soaring waterfalls. We were there in the winter, but I used my imagination to see what it might be like in the spring or summer.

A square butte west of the city formed a backdrop for the brown of wild horses running across the prairie. It was all so open and vast under the sky. I had to capture the orange arc of clouds over the Chinook.

Again, my hair was up in a high ponytail, but tonight I wore the grey Henley I’d borrowed from Stuart. His scent was fading on it, and I wished I’d thought to snoop in his toiletries bag for whatever cologne this was. Sure it was torture, but I was an artist. Suffering was good for my art.

I decided to have a glass of wine. It was Sunday, technically a work night, but our hours at the gym allowed me to sleep in, and I’d had to work every day but Friday. I pulled out a bottle of Chardonnay and had just twisted off the cap when someone knocked on my door.

My heart flew into a panic. I’d left my phone in the other room. Kenny always texted before she came over. She knew I didn’t like opening the door at night when I wasn’t expecting visitors.

I crept through my living area, which really was getting too crowded with books. I needed to get an eReader, but I still liked to hold them and smell them.

The knock came again, and I jumped. Carefully, I rose on my tiptoes to look through the peep hole, and my heart stopped working.

His back was turned as he seemed to scan the parking lot, but I easily recognized those broad shoulders. The canvass jacket I knew as well as the short, dark hair that I loved to slide my fingers through. He turned back, and the sight of his eyes was like warm honey poured through my veins.

Stuart Knight stood outside my door. He wasn’t overseas.

As much as I wanted to throw it open, I quickly assessed my wardrobe. My hair was up in a ponytail, and of course, I had flecks of blue paint in the tips. I seemed to remember touching my cheek with the brush at some point, so I knew there was a streak of green there. You’d think I was freaking Jackson Pollock the way I threw paint all over myself.

Another loud knock, and I let out a little shriek when I jumped.

“Mariska?” His low voice clutched my insides through the wooden barrier.

There was no hiding now. I’d have to see him looking like this. I didn’t have time to change or clean up.

Turning the lock, I slowly opened the door, wishing all this had come ten minutes from now. After I’d had that glass of wine. Our last telephone conversation wasn’t the most confidence inspiring.

Our eyes met, and his gleamed with something. I remembered the night I’d seen a break in his wall. The night he’d said he wanted me. Those few glorious days I’d been His Mariska.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call first.” His eyes flickered quickly over my body and the change I saw in them scorched my insides. I hadn’t worn a bra under his Henley, and other than that, I only wore black footless leggings.

“You came back.” My voice was breathless. God, how I still loved this man.

“I never left. Are you busy?”

“I-I was just painting.”

Again his expression changed. His obvious lust was replaced with something like cautious optimism. “I’ve wanted to see your art. Would you show it to me?”

Several obvious questions—What are you doing here? Why aren’t you in Saudi? What do you want from me?—were forgotten for the moment. I stepped back to let him in, and like a gentleman (a good Marine?) he slipped off his boots.

“It’s back here,” I said, pushing the door closed and turning the deadbolt behind him.

His canvass jacket slipped down his arms, and I took it, tossing it on the sofa. He followed me through the crammed living room, the sparse kitchen where I hadn’t cooked in weeks, back to small guest room I’d converted into a studio. It was always too small for a bedroom, and I never had overnight guests.

“Fire in the Desert” was leaning against the wall drying, and “Chasing the Dawn” was up on my easel. It looked better than I thought when I left it minutes ago.

“You do abstracts.” His voice was quiet as he squatted in front of the blaze of orange, yellow, and red on the floor. His eyes lifted to mine, and the mixture of approval and desire made my legs weak.

“I’ve never been much of a portrait artist.” My hands were fluttery, but I gestured to the unfinished work on the easel. “I got the idea for this one talking to your uncle about the colt.”

He straightened and stepped toward it, toward me. He scanned the canvass, and I scanned him, broad shoulders under a navy tee. His dark jeans hugged his ass in the most pleasing way, but they were loose down his legs. I swooned from his handsomeness like I had since that very first day.

“What did he say?” It was as if he needed my answer before he could go on.

“I asked him how long it took to break a horse, and he said it depended on the animal.” I tried to remember his exact words. “He said after all the work he’d done, brushing and gentling him, the colt would still get spooked when he saw him on his back. And he said if the colt threw him, that would spook him, too.”

Stuart’s body seemed to tense at my words. It was time to get back to those obvious questions.

Reaching out, I carefully touched his arm. “I thought you were in Saudi.”

“You’re wearing my shirt.”

“It smells like you.”

Before I could blink, he’d grabbed me. Emotion pulsed fiercely in my chest as he held me against the wall. His arms were under mine, and my head was in his hands. Our noses just touched, our lips a whisper apart as he spoke.

“I couldn’t get on the plane.” His breath came as fast as mine, and my lips throbbed for his kiss. “I thought my dream was in the desert, but it’s not. It’s here with you.”

I held his shirt, gripping the cloth. “Stuart...” It was all I could say.

His voice was unyielding as always. “You saved me from going back to a life that was killing me. How?”

It was a valid question. All of this was useful discussion, but I wanted to kiss him. Leaning forward, the smell of cedar and Stuart filled my senses. His strong arms supported me, and my lips grazed his as I answered.

“I told you. It was a dream.”

His mouth covered mine, demanding as always. He kissed me like I was a country to be liberated, and he was the Marine for the job. Tongues collided, another small noise ached from my throat. Fire sizzled under my skin.

Leaning back, he breathed in my hair, his lips grazed my ear. The scruff of his beard sent sparks down my limbs as he spoke. “I’m so sorry I didn’t trust you. I’m so sorry I thought you lied.”

Tears burned in my eyes. I clutched at his biceps, his strong shoulders. I wanted to feel his skin. “I should have told you everything.”

His lips pulled at mine again. Hungry kisses moved my mouth over and over as he desperately quelled the pain that had nearly torn me apart. I was against the wall, and he was between my legs.

“I never gave you the chance.” He kissed a line to my ear, pulling my earlobe between his teeth, giving me a little nip.

I felt his erection against my thighs, massaging between my legs. I wanted to lose the leggings, lose all our clothes and make crazy love.

“I’m covered in paint,” I gasped.

He lowered me and looked around the small room. “We should give you a shower.”

That white-hot memory flashed in my mind. My voice was trembling and eager when I answered him. “Okay.” I was on my feet and following him across the hall to my bathroom.

“Lift your arms.” He was giving orders again, and I followed gladly. I reached up, and he swept his grey Henley over my head and off.

His breath hissed when he saw me topless. Rough hands rose to cup my breasts, thumbs circled my nipples, and ecstatic desire roared through my body. How I had longed for this moment.

Lowering his caress, he touched the line of stars covering my left side. “This is new.” He leaned down and lightly kissed it, tracing a sizzling trail up my hips.

“I got it for our night under the stars.” He leaned up, eyes full of longing. “The night I made the wish.”

“You never told me what you wished for.”

“I’m still hoping it’s coming true.”

Cupping my cheeks, he kissed me softly this time, pulling first my top lip then my bottom between his. “I love it.”

I could barely take the anticipation. “Now you.” Lifting the navy shirt he wore, I smoothed it off, running my hands up and over his broad shoulders. I rested my nose against his skin, breathing deeply. “You smell so good.”

Strong arms gathered me up, and once again our bodies were skin to skin. A part-groan, part-sigh rose from both of us.

He leaned down to find my mouth with his, and we were lost in a deep kiss. I could only follow along wherever he planned to take me. This reunion was so unexpected and sweet and incredibly welcome, it ached in my bones.

Releasing me, he stepped back to turn on the shower. Water roared against the back wall. I was still clutched against his firm torso, and his light sprinkling of chest hair teased my nipples. I was so wet. I dropped my face against his shoulder, pressing my lips to his skin, touching it with my tongue.

We had to talk about what happened, what brought him here, but for now I didn’t want to look my gift horse in the mouth. I wanted to hold him, love him, let him surround me, take away all the pain. I’m feeling no pain now. I smiled remembering his words.

“What?” His eyes were back on me.

“I was thinking of our last shower. We got dirty while getting clean.”

“I’d like to get dirtier.”

Passion bubbled in my veins in the most pleasing way as he led me into the small, rectangular space. He was behind me under the steaming hot water, and his hands slipped up my torso. Strong hands cupped my breasts while long fingers pinched the tight tips.

Dropping my head back on his shoulder, I let out a moan. His erection was at my back now, and I wanted him inside me. In one fluid motion he turned us. “Put your hands on the wall.”

I did as he said, and he spread my legs apart with his knee. Before I could think, he was inside me. “Oh, yes!” I panted, my thighs humming with the intensity.

He had me around the waist as he started to rock. Slowly at first, he filled me, stretching me, massaging every place that had missed him so much. His hand traveled around my thigh to my clit. Two fingers circled slowly, tantalizing me. It wouldn’t take much. The anticipation and surprise combined with his steamy kisses and caresses had already peaked my orgasm to the edge.

As his thrusting became more violent, sparks flushed through my torso. My insides quaked and exploded with so much pleasure, my elbows bent. I would have collapsed if he hadn’t scooped me around the waist.

“Mariska.” His voice was a ragged groan at my neck as he leaned us forward on his forearms, pounding into me from behind. Four more quick thrusts, and he held me clutched in his arms, my back against his chest. I could feel his body tremble as his cock pulsed inside me. He finished with another low groan.

Sliding out, he turned me slowly so that I was facing him again, my back against the cool tiles. Large hands smoothed my hair from my face as his lips trailed kisses from my brow down to my temple. The softness of his touch followed by the scuff of his jaw teased my fading orgasm. At last our mouths reunited, and he kissed me as if taking a slow drink of water.

Leaving me with my head back against the wall, he looked deep in my eyes. “I can’t live without you. Please say you’ll forgive me for hurting you.”

My body was weak with pleasure and relief, but I reached for his face. “If you’ll forgive me for not being completely honest with you.”

He kissed me again, and my insides tightened with intense joy. We were back, he was back, and we were in that magical place I never wanted to leave.

“Those weeks apart, you never left my mind.” He kissed my cheek holding me against his body. “You changed me. I can’t leave you.”

The night I threatened to leave him crossed my mind. “We’ve closed the circle then.” His brow lined, and I continued. “I can’t leave you.”

“Come on.” He reached back and shut off the water. “I don’t know that we got very clean, but it’s the thought that counts.”

“All my thoughts were very dirty.”

“I hope you’ll tell me every one.”

I took the fluffy towel he held out, rubbing it over my hypersensitive body. The tips of my hair were now damp and not covered in blue.

“Hang on,” he said, eyes sparkling. I waited as he took the damp rag and rubbed it over my cheek. “Got a little green there.”

“I’m as much of a paint slinger as an artist, I guess.”

He scooped me into his arms again. “You’re an amazing artist.” A light kiss on my lips and he released me. “I love your work.”

Every word sent healing pulses of joy through my heart. This was heaven, and I never wanted to leave. “You have to tell me what happened to bring you here, but are you hungry? I could order takeout.”

His hands were on my waist again, thumbs circling against my skin. “Just as long as it can be delivered.”

* * *

We were surrounded by Thai food boxes, and the bottle of Chardonnay sat empty on my coffee table between two half-full glasses. He only wore his jeans, so his gorgeous lined torso was on full display. The sprinkling of light hair across the top of his chest made my mouth water, and his dark hair was messy bedhead. Every time his smoky hazel eyes met mine, a little surge of electricity moved under my skin.

I was dressed only in his Henley and my panties, but I’d taken my hair out of the high ponytail and fixed it in a low braid over my shoulder. Yes, I’d done it on purpose.

“You’re going to have to tell me at some point.” I took a sip of wine, and my eyes danced over the rim of the glass. Again, he looked as if I’d hit him with a sledgehammer.

“Have I ever told you what your eyes do to me?” His voice was controlled, level.

A little thrill surged low in my belly. “No, please do.”

He leaned forward and pulled me onto his lap in a straddle. I put my wine glass on the table.

“They’re the color of sunset in Montana.” My hands rested on his broad shoulders as I listened. “They remind me of the one place I can find peace. They make me believe you’re my peace.”

Moving my hands to his neck, I held him as I feathered kisses across his brow. “I want to be.”

With a groan he pulled me closer, burying his face in my chest. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and held on.

He turned his head to the side and his voice was husky. “It happened to me.”

I was touching him, smoothing my hands over every part of his skin I could find. “What, baby?”

Lifting his chin, he looked up at me with troubled eyes. “I’ve had stress-dreams since the attack that sent me home. Explosions, fire, everything you described to me. Things you couldn’t have known.”

My eyes heated with tears, and I placed my palms on his cheeks. “My nightmares?”

His head dropped, and he ground out a reply. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”

I kissed his temple, then I turned and placed my cheek on it. “What made you believe me? What did you dream?”

“The dream changed. It was similar, but little things were different.” He moved, and I leaned back so our eyes could meet. “The pain was worse. I was in agony...”

Images of my own dream flooded my mind. The burning, him lying on the sand.

“Just when I thought I’d die there, something cool touched my cheek. Small hands held my lips and gave me water. It was you.”

I didn’t know what to say. I’d never had this experience before, so I’d never talked about it with my grandmother. Clearly it was significant, but why? I didn’t know if we were being sent a message or if it was a sign. I wasn’t sure I cared.

Tracing my finger down his arm, I felt a tinge of insecurity. “Nothing like this has ever happened to me.”

“I can safely say it’s never happened to me.”

Not meeting his eyes, I had to ask. “What do you want to do about it?”

A finger hooked under my chin, lifting my gaze to his. “I want to make love to you. Then I want to take you back to Montana. I’ve heard a wedding’s happening there. Two people we both know and love. After that, I’m going to take you to the cabin, and we’re going to spend more time getting to know everything about each other.”

The smile that started at the words “make love to you” grew bigger, spreading across my face more with every word. “I love that plan.”

His eyes grew serious. “I love you, Mariska Renee Heron.” A light kiss. “You loved me when I wasn’t strong enough to love myself, let alone you.”

“I had no choice,” I smiled, kissing him back. “I saw you and my soul came to life inside me. All the reasons no one was ever good enough made sense. They weren’t you.”

We held each other. I was still on his lap, facing him in a straddle, the promise of lovemaking hung in the air. Leaning into his ear, I whispered. “Does your back hurt?”

“It’s a little tense. I’d like a massage if you feel like it.”

Standing I held my hand down. He took it and stood without putting any pressure on me. I led him to my bedroom, and he shrugged out of the jeans he wore. Nothing was underneath. My eyes ached at the site of his beautiful body.

“Lie across the bed,” I said.

He swept the duvet back and lay on his stomach across my double bed. It was just like the first time, me drooling over his perfect ass, tight with those palm-sized indentions on each side. I climbed up and sat beside him, and when I placed my palm to his skin, we both exhaled. We’d been here before, and I’d dreamed of being here again so many times.

Pressing my hands against his muscles, I kneaded with my thumbs until the tension released. Working my way down, I applied pressure, loving his skin, the relaxation of his muscles.

I slid tentative fingers lightly down the arch of his back, up over the rise of his ass. Leaning forward, I feathered a kiss against the side of his derriere. His breath hitched louder, and I kissed a trail up to the top. I skipped over to the other side, and followed another trail across the other perfect cheek.

My braid slid across my shoulder and fell across his back, and he groaned. It was a deep, rumbling sound, and satisfaction unfurled in my tummy. Parting my lips, I took a little bite of that luscious bum, and before I could blink, large, strong hands gripped my arms, moving me up to his body.

“That’s enough.” I was under him and his strong mouth claimed mine. He was rough and demanding, but now so was I.

I threaded my fingers in his hair and pulled, claiming his mouth, biting his lip. He groaned and tightened his hold on my arms. He grew more rough, and the excitement in me grew as well.

“Roll over,” he ordered.

I turned onto my stomach, and he spread my legs. “Ass up.”

Arching my back, I tingled with the thought he could see all of me until with one swift plunge, he was deep inside.

“Oh!” My voice was muffled in the pillows. He caught my arms and held them crossed over my back, using them for leverage as he slammed into me harder.

My knees slid apart until my clit was pressed between the mattress and his relentless thrusting. It was primitive and erotic, and I could feel the orgasm tightening every muscle in my core. He kept going, and I could sense he was barely holding on.

“Come on, baby.” The groan in his voice sent shudders through my thighs, and with two more hard scrubs the tingling friction assaulting my clit exploded in a blinding orgasm radiating down through both my legs. I cried out his name as my body shook with the force of it, and at once he let go, pulsing his own release as I trembled through the aftershocks.

Lying beside me, he gathered my limp body against his chest. “You are the most amazing woman.” He kissed my eyes, my brow, my nose, my lips. “I plan to spend the rest of my life exploring your beautiful body...” (another kiss) “your soul...” (another kiss) “your gifts...” (another kiss) “and every other part of you.”

I couldn’t help a laugh. “I love you Stuart William Knight.”

He paused, smoothing his palm back over my forehead. “Mariska.” So much emotion filled his voice, it ached joy in my chest. “Be sure to thank your soul for wanting my broken one.”

“You weren’t broken. You only needed a safe place to run free.”

“To serve and protect.” A sly twinkle sparked his eye. “Can I rock your gypsy soul?”

Our lips combined, mixing all the wonder of what we had in a breathless kiss. “You already have.”

The end.