"Son of a fuckin' bitch, what the actual fuck?!"
She could feel his broad smile against the most intimate part of her even before she looked blearily down her body to where her lover of six months was lying between her legs, looking entirely too happy for what had to be an ungodly hour of the morning. It was still dark, for Chrissakes.
And wasn't she wearing panties last night when they went to bed?
She couldn't believe where he was. Still half asleep, her hands moved naturally into the soft curls of his hair as he pressed his face to her slit, tongue sliding between folds that were perpetually swollen and moist for him - had been since she'd met him. "Tom. Tom, no. It's not . . . I haven't even showered yet," she breathed, unable to process the fact that she was trying to talk him out of what he was obviously so eager to do. What was she, crazy?
And he wasn't having any of it, anyway. "Unbutton this," he tugged at the hem of her sleep shirt, "When you're done, pull it open so I can see those pretty breasts of yours - I want to watch your nipples peak while I have you dancing on the tip of my tongue - then put your hands by your hips." He was using that voice, the one that was just a notch below his usual and a notch above Loki that meant that she was not free to say no to him.
"But Tooooomm . . . " The whiney - although softly issued - words were out of her mouth before she could suppress them and she knew she should never have given voice to them. They were going to get her into trouble - with a capital T and that rhymed with D and that stood for Dom Tom.
As if he'd read her thoughts, before she finished groaning his name he had her flipped over onto her tummy and she damned him - not for the first time - for being so blasted strong. Even if she had resisted being put into this position - and she had in the past - he could overpower her without so much as batting an eyelash.
"It's too early in the morning to get spanked! It's cruel and unusual punishment! It's against the Geneva convention! It's . . . it's un-American!"
Although he laughed softly, not feeling the need to point out that everything he did to her was un-American, he also stopped what he'd been doing. She had learned from previous experience that when Tom - who was a man of movement and action - stilled, it was rarely a good thing, but he'd stopped in the act of brushing his hand over her behind and up her back, bunching the hem of her nightshirt at his wrist. When he paused his hand was at her upper back, between her shoulder blades. He didn't always demand that she be naked when he spanked her, but he did like her to be exposed from the breasts down because it added another layer of vulnerability to the overall experience he was creating for her.
"Do you really think it's wise to continue whinging when you're already going to get a spanking for doing exactly that, my love?" he asked with no rancor at all, moving up beside her to lean down and deliver a kiss to the creamy, soft skin he was shortly going to roast.
Why did he have to be so blasted coherent first thing in the morning? If he would just sleep late like the rest of lazy, flawed humanity, she wouldn't find herself in this position! But no, Mr. Perfect Tom Hiddleston awoke early and - what was worse as far as she was concerned - downright cheerfully, which was supremely fucked up - usually went for a run - a fucking RUN, goddamn it - then came back, showered and, while wearing a big, thoroughly annoying grin on his face, woke her up
Not usually in quite this manner, though.
She'd awakened as he'd slid himself inside her though, several times, and it had been an amazingly wonderful experience because she was still mostly asleep and entirely relaxed. She tended to keep herself very tense during sex, as if she felt she had to race to her orgasm and get it over with to alleviate any sense of duty he might feel towards her, despite the fact that he had reassured her that he'd love nothing better than to spend hours bringing her off again and again - whether or not she wanted him to.
And he had done so, on many occasions, and she could hardly argue with the results, except that he'd left her completely wasted and even more mindless than usual in his wake.
But this was different.
For one thing, she hadn't earned a punishment any of those other times, because it wasn't something he felt the need to do all that often. But when Tom decided it was necessary, he didn't fool around - and he didn't spank lightly.
Or quickly.
He liked to make sure she felt every individual connection of his palm to her butt. If he was going to expend the energy to correct her, he was going to make sure she felt every single nuance of it. He said it would help her remember to behave.
Besides, he knew she was deeply invested in the ritual aspect of the entire experience.
The first swat always caught her unaware, and this one was no different, causing her to hiss her breath in through clenched teeth, feet drumming the mattress already. No matter how prepared for it she thought she was, its sting was always much worse than she thought it was going to be. Her hands were where he required them to be when she was being spanked in their bed, holding onto the all too convenient spindles of their headboard so that they were out of his way and she couldn't reach behind her to disrupt her punishment by putting a hand over her bottom.
It didn't help that that big hand of his covered nearly every inch of her nakedness with every single effort, those impossibly long fingers of his setting fire to both of her cheeks every time, so within a very few spanks there was no longer any virgin territory - just that which he had already set ablaze.
If he wasn't so intoxicated by her bottom it would have been damned near impossible to take a spanking like this, but he could never seem to keep his hands off of her for very long, so in between swats that stern hand rubbed and kneaded the flesh it had just seared, taking the edge off of the pain and adding to the ever present ache between her legs.
And he knew it, too. He knew just how much being spanked turned her on. He hadn't been very into it at first - he was practically more of a feminist than she was in that he loved women who were independent and made their own way in the world, not looking to a man to take care of them but reaching and exceeding their own goals through hard work and effort and determination.
But this was something she'd come to him knowing she liked, and although she didn't push or nag about it in any way, she did introduce the idea every once in a while, especially when he asked her occasionally if there was anything she fantasized about that they hadn't done together.
The first time he'd spanked her he was so worried about hurting her that she barely felt it, frankly, but it was his hand on her butt and just that - heck, just the idea of that - was more than enough to get her most of the way there. He had been impressed with just how hard she had cum afterwards which she knew was really what had turned him on to it, at least at first.
But it had taken her doing something that he considered to be unforgivably idiotic - when he knew she was damned well smart enough to know better - before he'd really given her a true spanking.
She'd borrowed his car one afternoon - the Jag - to go on an errand and something had gone wrong with the brakes. She was absolutely clueless about cars, but she could certainly tell when his gazillion dollar car threatened to coast through a busy London intersection even though she had the brake pedal pinned to the floor.
It took her almost twice as long as usual to get home, but she made it eventually. She had concentrated so hard on what she was doing that she hadn't answered any of the calls or messages that had come in during the drive, and as she'd made her way up to his place, she saw that there were three missed calls and five texts, all from him, waiting for her.
She didn't bother to return any of them because she was nearly at the door to the flat anyway. As she opened it, her phone rang again and he came to the door, phone to his ear and a very worried expression on his face.
"Darling, are you okay? I was worried about you." he asked, enveloping her in a hug the likes of which she thought she'd never get used to. This man hugged with his heart right out there for everyone to see, convention and the usual British reserve be damned. He hugged her with his whole body, with from somewhere deep in his soul Squeezing almost uncomfortably tight, he whispered, "What happened? I called and I texted -"
Her story about what happened went fine at first. He didn't know all that much about cars, either, but he'd certainly do whatever he needed to get it fixed. "I'm sorry you had to deal with that, honey. Where'd you break down?" he asked, loosening his hold on her just enough to dial the dealership, but still holding her hand.
She gave him a confused look and he returned it back to her, his brow furrowing in a portent of things to come.
"Where's the car?"
"In the garage."
"In what garage, love?"
"The one downstairs."
His hand instantly tightened on hers as he stared into her eyes. It was one of the very few times she'd ever seen him without a smile on his face and that should have been her first clue that he considered that something was wrong that was much more serious than whatever the problem was with the damned car. She could hear the dealership answer, but he was no longer interested in talking to them. "Sorry, wrong number." Tom disconnected the call and put his phone down on the kitchen counter, tugging her along behind him to sit on the couch in their living room. She sat down next to him and his arms encircled her loosely.
Calmly and quietly he said, "I just want to make sure that I understand the situation correctly, okay?"
"Sure." She hadn't sensed any problem with that yet.
Tom reached down and lifted her onto his lap, cuddling her very close for an unusually long moment, then cleared his throat. When he met her eyes again, she could see unshed tears in them. "So what you're telling me is that you were driving around, in downtown London, during rush hour, in a powerful sports car with no brakes?"
Her spidey sense - or was that sub-sense? - at the back of her neck was just beginning to tingle at his tone. She assumed he thought that she must have done something to cause the mechanical problem and tried to explain to him that she'd just been driving along normally when it happened, but that wasn't it, he had assured her emphatically.
And it wasn't. He didn't give a shit about the car. It was just a thing. He could buy another four of them tomorrow if he really wanted to.
She, on the other hand, was absolutely irreplaceable. He truly had no idea what he would have done if anything had happened to her.
"You didn't think to park the car at the nearest car park or even along the side of the street somewhere and call a wrecker, or me, or to come home safe in a cab and then tell me about the car after you'd arrived home in one piece?" She was beginning to understand why he was upset. "You just thought you'd just take your chances."
Her lips pursed against what she wanted to say, but it slipped out anyway. "I did get home in one piece. I'm right here - oh!"
In one fluid motion, he moved himself more to the center of the couch and had her flipped over his lap rather than on it before she realized what was happening. She tried to push herself off, planting her hands on the nearest cushion for leverage until he reached down and neatly captured both of her wrists in one of his hands, keeping them at the small of her back, out of his way.
And that was not his strong hand, either! He'd left that free for other duties.
It was summer and she had been wearing a very cute cotton sundress but it was too hot for nylons, so when he flipped her skirt up - lifting her wrists to tuck it under them, so there would be less chance of it working its way down - she was only left with the thin layer of her lacy boy shorts between his eyes - but more importantly his other hand - and her rear end.
And quickly there wasn't even that as he eased the lace down to her knees, trapping them there together on purpose, she suspected, testing just how far she could spread her legs, which was almost nil.
He let his hand rest over the fullest crest of her bottom and she would have thought that his fingers were inside her and his thumb was stroking her clit - she had that strong a reaction just to being in this position, with him laying a blatantly possessive claim to her in a relatively innocent yet still quite intimate area like that. If he talked to her too much, or moved his hand on her behind, she was going to go off like a rocket without him having to touch her much at all.
She thought she heard his mouth open once or twice, as if he was going to say something to her, but nothing came out.
Instead, his hand rose well into the air and came down with much more force than he had ever used before. That was a swat!
Unfortunately for her, it was followed by a whole lot more of them, and she knew she'd committed that cardinal sin of not being careful about what she wished for. The man was a natural - a lethal natural - whose deceptively elegant hand belied the unfortunate ability to land powerful swat after swat, never varying the intensity as he quickly brought her to tears and beyond, reducing her to crying and trying to kick and struggling futilely to get away, but not managing to so much as disrupt one swat.
She had no idea how long it went on for - she only knew she desperately wanted it to stop! And when he did, he turned her and lifted her into his arms in a surprisingly graceful move, carrying her into their bedroom to deposit her on her back on the edge of her side of the bed, making short work of the rest of her clothes while he remained in his suit pants and a blue dress shirt that most nearly matched his eyes.
Her singed flesh couldn't stand the touch of even his very expensive sheets, so she tried to turn over, but he was already on his knees between her legs and his grip on her thighs prevented her from moving in the least to alleviate the sting in her behind.
"Tom - my butt - it hurts! Let me turn over or onto my side or something," she wailed.
There was pure evil in his eyes as he waited until she looked down at him and said, "You're going to stay right where you are while I love you with my mouth. You'll get a little reminder every time you move while I'm flicking your clit with my tongue or thrusting my fingers up inside you that you are never, ever, ever to put yourself in that kind of danger again." The tears were back in his eyes, although still unshed, and in the way his voice caught with emotion. "I don't think you realize just what a treasure you are to me, little one, or you would never have taken such a stupid chance with your life. You are the most important person in the world to me, and I expect you to treat yourself as I would treat you - with the utmost love and care for your well being. Nothing is more important than that - certainly not a piece of metal with some wheels on it."
As he spoke he'd carefully lifted a leg over each shoulder, spreading them wider than they would be naturally, which was his aim. He reached up to grasp her hips, using them to pull her gently but firmly down further towards the edge of the bed, causing her to gasp and groan low in her throat as her sensitized behind was dragged along the sheets, igniting the stinging sizzle that had remained undiminished even while she'd been still.
Whereas he'd usually be extremely sympathetic any time she had any kind of ache or pain - he was a wonderfully attentive caretaker when she got cramps or the - luckily - rare cluster headache - her moan garnered her none of the soothing phrases she expected to hear. Instead, she got a wickedly low, "The lady doth protest too much, methinks, and I bet I can prove it, too."
She made an ill fated attempt at thwarting him - she wasn't even really sure why she'd bothered considering how easily he could overpower her - reaching down to cover the essence of herself with a small hand.
That abnormal quiet descended over him again and as she continued to try to keep him from verifying that which he already knew.
"Where do your hands belong when I am preparing to put my hot, wet mouth on your quim, my lady?" he asked with no trace of anger or even impatience.
He heard her strangled cries of protest before she answered and complied at the same time, however reluctantly. "At my hips."
"Don't move them again or there will be consequences that I promise you you will not enjoy." He had deliberately delivered that line in Loki's voice, creating a shiver in her that raised gooseflesh all over her body and causing her already painfully peaked nipples to burgeon just that much more.
The fingers that had been on her right hip moved down around the outside of her flank, skirting over her sore rear to rest at the bottom of her slit, teasing, making her wait as he began at the edge of her outer lips, very slowly bringing them up and in until they met with the exact evidence to which he'd been referring - his fingertips were soaked in her juices, even before he got to the oasis that was producing all of that cream.
"My word, darling, you are dripping wet! You weren't kidding about being spanked turning you on, were you?" he marveled, skirting his fingers around her opening and keeping them well away from her aching, straining clit as well, no matter the blatant raised-hipped invitations she was giving him. As those two digits hovered on the very edge of invading her, he turned his head and nibbled the tender flesh of her thigh, nipping just a bit then soothing with his tongue. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you this, my love, but you're not to cum until I say you may."
Her frustrated growl at the pronouncement - however expected it was - only made him laugh; he was holding her so open that she could feel the bursts of warm breath on her clit as he did so, and that was almost enough to set her off - rule or no rule.
She had to consciously clamp down on her desires, though, or she had a feeling that her bottom was going to be in even worse shape than it already was - not that he made accomplishing that goal easy on her - just the opposite.
She had been extremely tight - close to virginal - when she had come to him, and in the interests of preserving the slick, hot cling of that velvet glove of hers, he entered her all at once with just one finger, and yet it was enough to make her writhe and moan and arch her hips, seeking more of him, preferably on her own terms.
But that wasn't how this worked. He removed his finger entirely and began to kiss every inch - except the most important one - of her secret flesh now revealed, suckling her lips into his mouth, razing them gently with his teeth and letting them go, licking his way up one side then down the other, letting his tongue dwell at the very top of her pussy but not letting it roam anywhere near where she so wanted his attentions.
He teased and tasted and touched her until she was very nearly exhausted from it and he knew that she had truly surrendered her body to him. Then and only then did he lean forward so that she could again feel the heat of his breath on her oversensitive flesh.
"I want you to cum for me, my treasure. Cum hard for me. I want to hear you scream with it." As he commanded her - in that deep rumbling way of his - he - at exactly the same time - pressed his middle finger into her, just shy of roughly, while finally capturing that neglected bud in his mouth, resting the flat of his tongue atop it and rotating slowly, gently around and around in the manner he knew would render her senseless from his attentions.
Her moans - which had been a constant practically since he'd knelt before her - grew in volume and frequency until she began to gasp for air. It was building now, that unstoppable, unbearably aching tingle and he knew it somehow - she must have a tell of some kind - slowing his ministrations by half to draw the exquisite sensation out for her, nearly driving her insane as he did so.
At just the perfect moment - mere seconds from her first explosive contraction - he added a second finger, driving them both deep and hard within her, fucking her as he increased the tempo of his lips and tongue at her clit.
"I - I - can't, please, Tom, no . . . !"
She often fought against the ecstasy he brought her, and he knew it was one of her kinks that she adored being forced to orgasm against her will.
He lifted his head for only a second to growl at her, "Yes, baby. You have no choice in the matter." Then, in a move that both goosed her along and reminded her of what had gotten her here in the first place, he reached down with his free hand to squeeze a still hot, rounded butt cheek as he returned his mouth to its rightful place to finish pushing her over that edge.
She automatically arched her hips up, away from the hand that was caressing her stinging flesh, which drove his fingers even further up inside her, forcing her clit to be even more vulnerably exposed beneath his ravening mouth.
And he got his wish - she let go with a full throated scream that might have frightened him - and did a little at first - but no longer. She was a loud in her pleasure and he loved it. There was never any doubt at all in his mind that she was cumming, and cumming hard - wonderfully, thrillingly, uncontrollably so.
He remained right where he was, easing off a little with his mouth but not a lot, urging her to a quick second peak that he knew was less satisfactory simply because of how ultra sensitive she was at that point, but that allowed him to take his time in building her third explosion more carefully and with deliberate, studied skill. He knew exactly what she liked - just the right touch and when to apply it, when to back off and when to press her.
By the time he stood between legs that dangled, exhausted, off the edge of the bed, he had counted seven orgasms in all and it had seemed as if the last few were at least equal in strength to the first ones he'd given her.
Tom looked down at her, seeing with no small amount of satisfaction and pride the sex flush that caused her to blush slightly from the chest up, knowing he had put it there.
She was still panting and moaning, her head rolling back and forth on the mattress, eyes closed, body tense. He'd left her still contracting and he knew that was what she was experiencing now, that slow ebbing of ecstasy. She looked like she'd been ridden hard and put away wet, but he was just about to get to the ridden part, ignoring his instincts which told him he should be considerate and allow her some time to recover. She'd always told him that he could take her any time -in pretty much any way - he wanted to, and that it was extremely hot to her to be fucked right after he'd taken her with his mouth, and, indeed, he could usually count on bringing her to a few more orgasms when he laid his more gentlemanly tendencies aside and took her as he pleased.
As he stood there he reveled in the idea that he loved being fully clothed while she was completely naked. It wasn't something he'd paid much attention to before they'd gotten together, but she was slowly pulling the dominant male out of him whether he wanted her to or not, he guessed. He thoroughly enjoyed those times when he'd come home from a meeting wearing a three piece suit and had stripped her naked immediately after closing and locking the door, usually as he was carrying her to bend her over the back of the sofa or lay her out on the dining room table like a particularly delectable buffet.
In cases like that, they rarely actually made it to the bedroom until much later.
He reached down and made only the adjustments to his clothing that were absolutely necessary, unzipping his fly and arranging his underwear to free himself of those close confines, his hard length straining towards the heat of its home within her. He bent down a little to catch her knees over his elbows then presented himself to her and was instantly bathed in even more of her honey.
"Look at me, love," he ordered softly.
It took a tremendous effort, but she obeyed him, so deep in subspace that to not do so would have caused her something akin to physical pain. Her eyes were soft and unfocused, but once they found him, they latched onto his like a lifeline, as if he was the only stable thing she could count on in this world.
"There are your pretty eyes. Keep them on me, baby. I'm going to take you now, don't fight me. I don't want to hurt you." He added those last bits occasionally, knowing how incredibly powerful they were to her.
Her groan at his words became much more amplified and strident as he pressed himself inexorably into her. She gasped and tried to reach for him, to cling to him, but when he had moved above her, he had carefully placed his palms very close to her body on the mattress, just a smidge above her elbows, knowing it would prevent her from being able to bring her arms up and that that was a surefire trigger for her, too.
"Too big," she breathed, her head thrashing back and forth, her long auburn hair fanned out beneath her.
"No, baby. I'm just right. We fit together tightly, perfectly - so tight. You are so goddamn tight -" He had to leave off talking, unfortunately, because he was too damned close already, especially when he felt her clenching around his length as she shattered beneath him with an agonized cry. His body was demanding its due and he let go of his usual tight self-control and fucked her roughly, giving himself the unbelievable freedom of not worrying if he was hurting her - she had always assured him that he would not, but if through some strange quirk he did, she would let him know immediately.
He had come to trust that she would and thus she had given him that immeasurable gift.
He arched into her with a deep throated cry, spilling himself into her fiercely where he was buried much more deeply within her than he ever had been with any other woman.
Seconds later, he couldn't help it - he collapsed on top of her, arms literally shaking with reaction, no longer able to support his weight over her. He couldn't think, he couldn't anything. It was a true mindlessness that he had found with no one but her, perhaps because he loved her so much.
But he was well aware of the acute physical differences between them - she always felt very small and almost fragile beneath him - and he didn't stay there long, just enough to allow some breath back into his body and get some of the blood flowing north of his waist again before taking her with him as he rolled onto his side. Times like this he couldn't bear not to touch her, keeping her pinned against him as he pressed butterfly kisses to her face and tasting the remnants of the tears he'd been the direct cause of.
Despite her frequent and vehement reassurances, he couldn't stop himself from whispering, almost holding his breath until she answered him, "Are you all right?"
She reached up to cup his cheeks in her hands, meeting his blue green eyes with her watery hazel ones. "My love, I have never been better in my life than I am at this moment. You are . . . " she choked up, her throat closing off from the overwhelming intensity of what she felt for him. "You are everything that is good and precious and amazing in my world. I am so humbled and honored to have you in my life."
He always made her feel so treasured with his words because he was so eloquent, but she didn't have much of that gift so she tried to show him how she felt in other ways, not sure that he always felt her love as fully and constantly as she did his. But every once in a while the right words came to her, and he had taught her that she was, indeed, truly safe with him, and to never hesitate to speak the truth of her feelings to him, directly from her heart without concern about how dull and inarticulate they might sound in her mind.
Tom always cherished those times when she confessed the truth how she felt about him because he knew just how hard it was for her to express herself that way.
This time, though, her transgression was much less serious - she didn't whinge very often because she knew it annoyed him and she wasn't the type to do that much anyway - what did she have to whine about? She had a great job that was flexible enough so that they could be together nearly twenty-four seven, she had great family and friends and, most of all, she had him. She could barely believe her good fortune in any of those things, but especially in having found Tom.
"I wonder if I could spank you to orgasm," he mused out loud between stinging swats and gentle massage.
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that she had absolutely no doubt that he could, most especially if he talked to her during it because he could get her to do absolutely anything with that voice of his, but as the prickly hot bite built in her behind, she reconsidered, not wanting to give him any ideas.
It was always dangerous, she had found, to give Tom any kind of idea, especially as pertained to sex. The man had a mind like a steel trap, and he remembered what she said - whether it was to him or not - even if it was a casual, offhand remark, and she often saw the results of a something she'd said in one of their rambling conversations that night when he took her to bed.
His hand lingered on her bottom after the most recent smack, following its cleft down to where her butt became her thighs. "Spread your legs for me, love," he asked, his voice thick and hot.
She whimpered, but gave no real verbal protest as she obeyed him.
But not far enough for his tastes, which earned her another sound spank that had her gasping from its intensity. "You know what I mean when I say that by now - I want them as far open as you can get without hurting yourself not just barely apart, young lady. You know better than to try to hide yourself from me," he scolded, knowing that the deliberate inflection he gave his words - as well as the words themselves - would go right to her clit.
More whimpering, but she again did as he commanded, leaving herself hopelessly exposed to his eager fingers, which immediately began pressing themselves up inside her.
"Mmmmmmm. Wet and welcoming, as always, my dear."
He withdrew despite her very vocal protests, flipping her onto her back again as if he couldn't go another minute without tasting her, draping her legs over his back then reaching up to capture her wrists where they lay near her hips, trapping them against the mattress, rendering them useless against him as he devoured her from stem to stern, settling finally right where she desperately wanted him to be.
That first ice cream cone lick of his broad, flat tongue over her aching, throbbing bud sent a shiver up her spine and he kept to that excruciatingly slow, languorous pace - never once varying it despite her frequent almost sobbing pleas for mercy.
It was Loki's deep, evil laughter at her mewling that vibrated against her clit as he ravaged her in that horribly controlled, positively torturous manner, until she began to chant his name like a prayer and he knew she was very close. He slowed down even more but compensated for it by pressing two fingers - crossed over themselves - into her in the same excruciatingly lazy manner.
He left her hanging for just long enough to look up at her, taking in the sight of her those mauve tipped, heaving breasts, the way her head whipped back and forth mindlessly, how her hips rose as if to wrest control away from him, not that he allowed her to, and growling, "Cum. Right now. I will have your ecstasy as my own but do it now, my love, or I may well withdraw my permission and leave you hanging for the rest of the day."
That threat - which she knew without a doubt that he would make good on if she didn't obey him - pulled a deep groan of protest from the very tips of her toes. Those intruding fingers didn't even make it all the way inside her before she fell over the precipice he'd been driving her towards for what seemed like hours, her body burst with the force of a thousand stars being birthed, one overpowering, overwhelming orgasm flowing seamlessly into the next as he never left her, fucking her hard with his fingers while his mouth continued to demand more and harder peaks from her.
Only when she collapsed back against the bed in exhaustion did he withdraw himself from her slowly and gently, disliking her gasp of discomfort when his fingers slid from within her, although he knew he had to trust that if he had truly been hurting her, she would have told him so.
He moved to lie on his side and cuddle her to him, holding her safe and tight as she literally shivered in the aftermath of what he'd done to her, hips still seeking him and knowing her body was still sending spasms of pleasure through her.
She was very nearly asleep again when he tilted her chin up, waiting for those sleepy eyes to open before saying softly, with a big shit eating grin, "Good morning, my sunshine."