Ty hit, every time.
This would have freaked me out, how good he was at it, but thinking on it, it didn’t. First, he had a great body and he was in command of it. Not just during sex but all the time. Second, he was strong as in very strong. Ronnie was no weakling and took care of his body as a matter of habit and survival. But the strength of his lean muscle was nothing in comparison to the power behind the bulk of Ty. And Ty used his strength during sex in a dizzying variety of delicious ways. Third, Ty was seriously hot and, prior to his incarceration, he had to have had his fair share of practice and then some. And last, Ty had already proved he was generous and sex was no different. He saw to me, sometimes twice (once three times) before he took care of himself. He never left me hanging or took care of me after. Not once.
It was phenomenal. So phenomenal, I didn’t mind that there was no further heart-to-heart sharing from Ty. What he was giving me, all of it, was just fine. Better. It was perfect.
I moved to him, set his travel mug on the counter by his hip, got as close as his bowl would let me, leaned a hip into the counter and instantly started bitching.
“Seven o’clock is a ridiculous time to have to be at work.”
His beautiful eyes on me, he chewed, swallowed and replied, “Told you, you don’t have to get up with me.”
Yeah, right, like I’d miss taking a shower with him. Not gonna happen.
I communicated this with my eyes and a tip of my head. He read it loud and clear and his lips tilted up at the sides.
Then he spoke again. “Seven o’clock means gettin’ off at four unless they need me to do overtime. I could do nine thirty to six thirty but I like the evenings clear. Don’t sleep late, that time in the morning would be a waste.”
“Mm,” I mumbled and his lips twitched.
“Mama, f**kin’ you in the shower, doable. We really start to play, I won’t wanna go and how are you gonna get deck furniture if I don’t have a paycheck?”
He had a point.
And he called me “mama” in his soft voice. That was a new one. I liked it.
Not to mention, I was discovering we seriously needed deck furniture.
“Whatever you wanna do, honey,” I muttered.
“Yeah,” he muttered back, shoved the last spoonful in his mouth, chewed, swallowed then dipped his head to touch his lips to mine and moved around me to get to the sink, saying, “Gonna hit the gym before I come home. Be back at around six.”
I turned with him so I was facing him when I replied as he put his bowl in the sink and walked back to me, “Right. Anything you want for dinner or are you gonna do a shake?”
“Food,” he said, making it to me, putting a hand light on my hip and leaning his face close. “Whatever you make, I’ll eat.” He again touched his mouth to mine then said against it, “Later, Lex.”
“Later, honey,” I whispered against his.
He bent his head forward an inch which touched his forehead to mine and he did this for half a second before his forehead and his hand went away because he’d tagged his travel mug and was sauntering to the stairs.
I watched him until he disappeared then I warmed up my coffee, took it out to the sunny deck and sipped it at the railing, taking in a view I knew I’d never get used to.
I saw the view, I loved the view but mostly I loved that standing at that railing, this time, I felt full. Sated. Replete.
And I hadn’t had breakfast.
Once I hit the bottom of the mug, I wandered into the house, refreshed my coffee and then wandered up the steps. I went to my lingerie drawer, dug under my stuff and pulled out the glossy violet and ice blue folder. I opened it, pulled out an eight by ten then replaced the folder in the drawer.
Then I wandered down the steps to the pantry. I pulled out a thick, brown paper bag that had a red stamp on the side with some lasso-style ropes around Old West-style words that said “Carnal Country Store”. I took it to the island, set the picture and my mug down and dug stuff out of the bag that I bought in town yesterday after I had my job interview.
Carnal Country Store was a gift slash souvenir shop. They had a multi-theme going. Old West slash Colorado Mountains slash Bikers slash Country. It was wild but it worked. There was a lot of wood. A lot of antlers. A lot of feathers. A lot of buffalo. Being Carnal, which was definitely a biker haven and not the pedal kind, it also had a bunch of biker stuff. This was intermingled with an abundance of full on country wares that were mostly really cute but not my style (or Ty’s) and some local artisan stuff which included some seriously kickass pottery. And, luckily, for those with a discerning eye and because it was the only gift shop in Carnal (except the florist who had a few frames, vases and knick knacks – not having a job and with time on my hands I’d definitely spent time perusing what Carnal had to offer, so much I had it down pat), they had some nicer stuff too.
And I said this was “luckily” because, although Ty was born in that county, he was not a feathers, antlers, buffalo, biker or country wares kind of guy.
So I got the stuff I got and it was pricey but since Ty paid for nearly everything, I had most of the wad of cash Shift gave me to finance my journey, so I went a little crazy thinking some Shift in an alternate universe would want to give Ty and I a wedding present (or, as it turned out, several). I also went a little crazy because it was “nice shit” so it would fit.
I pulled out a beautiful, wide-edged, beveled silver frame, took off the back and then put our wedding picture in it. I turned it around after I secured the back and there we were. My dress. My bouquet. Ty in his suit. Me smiling bright and big. Ty looking hot.
I studied it thinking, at the time that photo was taken, I would never have guessed two weeks later I’d spend that much money on the perfect frame for that picture because that picture needed the perfect frame.