Sally: Autumn Storms (F&L Story #4)

Sally: Part 23

Part 23

Sally awoke to the roosters crowing.  She’d gotten maybe little over an hour of sleep, but she didn’t mind a bit.  Her body tingled with exhilaration.  For the first time in years, she felt young and beautiful.  Wilson gave that to her.  He spent the long hours of the night bringing her to a peak, only to insist that she was indeed the most glorious being alive – even going so far as to demand that she repeat it before he touched her again.  Then he’d back off, allow her body to cool and writhe with frustration, and heave her back up the hill to remarkable bliss, simply to assert how desirable he thought her to be and completely dominate every kiss, every touch, every sigh, moan, breath that came out of her body.

When she couldn’t take it any more, she screamed at him to finish her.  He stopped everything, grinned brilliantly down at her and said, “Payback is hell, ain’t it?”

But he didn’t tease her much more after that.  The orgasm that shot through her scared her a little.  She’d never felt such adrenaline coursing through her veins, that kind of electrical power sparking from her womb and flying to every point of her flesh.  He claimed she blacked out.  All she could remember was the white spots dancing in her vision and the intoxicating sensation of peace liquefying her bones.

She rotated her head to look over at him in the light of dawn.  His dark hair stuck up in places, creating an aura of boyish charm in his good looks.  The rugged, stoic man had disappeared.  In his place, a sleeping, sated, naked superman remained. 

Wilson recreated the meaning of stamina.  He definitely took his sweet time last night.  Hours of lovemaking.  With the promise of more today.  He said so just before falling asleep.

“Don’t go anywhere…I’m not done with you, yet.”  Of course, then he conked out, emitting snores loud enough to reanimate an army of zombies from the grave.

Well, he’d have to get over her not going anywhere.  She had critters to tend to.  At least the power was back on.  The chicken houses could be gloomy and creepy in the early dawn without the lights on.  Quietly slipping out of bed, she snatched up her jeans and sweater from last night and tiptoed down the stairs.  First, she fed Toto, who eyed her with indignation.  Then she went out into the morning to feed the other animals.  The sun was well on its way over the horizon by the time she got back to the house.

She stood in her kitchen, debating on whether to go back upstairs and wake Sleeping Beauty with a steamy kiss or to start on breakfast.  She chose breakfast.  Wilson would need to eat and gather his strength.  She smiled to herself, recalled the more interesting parts of last night and whipped up a batch of pancakes.

Lost in her daydreams, she didn’t hear him enter the room.  Just as she ladeled the last of the batter in the pan and sipped from her second cup of coffee, one hand slipped around her waist while the other smoothed her hair aside to access the back of her neck.  “Good morning,” he murmured groggily.  “I thought I told you to stay put.”

“It’s your day off,” she reminded him, arching into his embrace.  “Someone has to take care of the animals.”

“And did you?”

“Of course.  What kind of farmer do you think I am?”

He ignored that as he nibbled behind her ear.  “What else needs to be done?”

“Nothing until later this afternoon,” she moaned, loving the feel of his lips on her skin.

“Good,” he replied and picked her up.

“Wil!  The pancakes!  They’ll burn.”  He came to a dead stop at the doorway, sighed and returned to the stove.  He wouldn’t set her down, but he turned off the stove, moved the pan with the pancakes cooking in it, and resumed his trek back up the stairs.