I'm updating with a second chapter this weekend. I hope I'll get another chance to write more before the end of the week, but my schedule is shifting with monotonous regularity at the moment. Apologies and thanks for remaining loyal to me. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Let me know what you think. XX
Their walk back took longer than planned. Every few steps, they had shared either an embrace or a kiss until Grace's lips were swollen and reddened from the impact of his mouth on hers. She did not mind as his longing for her brought her joy beyond her widest imaginings. When she said that she would like to stop, for a moment or two, to take in the increasingly golden vista spread out before them, Roland had stood behind her with his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her close against his chest, holding her in shared silence and complete harmony. She had turned her head to look back at him and he had bent his own to kiss her neck and murmur words which brought the colour rushing to her cheeks.
Once back at the house, they went through to the kitchen, where Grace took an apron from the hook behind the door, fastening it and moving to the cold store, where she found all the staples for a salad; vegetables, cooked ham, chicken, eggs, butter and a freshly sliced slaw of white cabbage and carrot together with a dish of homemade mayonnaise all safely hidden beneath muslin covers. Roland moved to the earthenware bread crock, where he found freshly baked bread to go with their repast and, leaning back against the dresser, enjoyed the novel sensation of watching her start to prepare their meal. Mrs Anderson had, as Roland had predicted, left more than sufficient food for them. Grace washed the salad leaves and placed them in a colander, while she sliced tomato, cucumber, and celery. She peeled the cooked beetroot and diced it placing it in a separate bowl. Then she turned to the meat, slicing and placing it on a platter with some hardboiled egg. Roland smiled as he thought of the times he had imagined her looking after him and here she was doing exactly that, albeit with some help from the indomitable Mrs Anderson.
"Shall we eat in here or the dining room?" he asked
"I'm happy in here, if you are. There's only the two of us and we've eaten in far worse conditions," Grace replied with a smile.
The warmth of his smile matched hers, as he said, "True, but we were together then, as now. Somehow that made all the difference."
He removed some cutlery and a couple of place mats from the dresser draw and started to set two places for them.
"I'll do that, darling," Grace said, reaching across to take the cutlery.
He refused to part with it saying, "No, you're doing the meal, I want to help you; we've always helped each other. Remember how you used to assist in surgery?"
"Yes, although I'd rather forget why we had to do that." The darker memories of their shared wartime experiences momentarily clouded her features as she turned back to preparing their food.
"I know; they were the worst of days in so many ways and yet they brought us together."
"And I'm glad of it," she said, looking at him intently and her tone conveying her sincerity.
He stopped what he was doing, came to her and held her in his arms, before planting a kiss on her forehead. A minute later they were ready to eat so they took their places, at the corner to one end of the kitchen table, knees touching beneath as if they could not bear to break contact for a second. Roland had opened a bottle of wine and they savoured its light, crisp bite as they ate, conversation flowing easily, punctuated by a hand clasp or loving glance.
"Would you like fruit to finish?" she asked.
"Sweetheart, I've had enough. I'll help you clear away and then let's go and sit in the drawing room."
They worked seamlessly, as only people with a deep connection to one another can do, and left the kitchen pristine for Mrs Anderson to use the next day. Grace had made coffee, which she brought through, and they sat next to one another on the little sofa, in the fading light of the evening sun, sipping the steaming beverage. Roland added a generous cognac to two balloon glasses, one of which he passed to Grace. She swirled the fragrant liquid around the massive glass before savouring its fine, smooth flavour, their eyes briefly meeting as she tilted her head back. The effect was instant. She placed her glass back on the table, and moving languidly to rest her head on his chest, she wrapped her arms around him. He dropped a kiss on her hair and, placing his glass to one side, he embraced her and held her close.
They sat quietly, lost in each other, as the moon rose and twilight dimmed the room. Roland bent his head and nuzzled Grace's cheek. She turned her face to his and searched for his mouth, which was quick to find hers. He kissed her and deepened the contact, enjoying the tiny sounds which she made as his actions inflamed her. She slid her leg between his and he pressed his thighs around hers.
"Time for bed?" he asked.
"I'm not tired yet," she answered.
"Good because neither am I."
They disentangled their limbs and Roland took Grace's hands, easing her up and kissing her again.
"Let me make love to you," he murmured.
Her answer was in the way her body seemed to melt into his.
He turned and led her back into the hall, where his kisses told her how much he loved her. They went up together and entered the bedroom hand in hand. The windows were open and the room was perfumed by the honeysuckle outside. Their eyes locked in the rising moonlight, as they helped each other to undress. Buttons slipped through holes as her dress and his shirt slipped to the floor. He watched her breasts rise and fall, straining against her undergarments, and felt his body stiffen, as he ran his hands over her silk covered hips, stroking down to her thighs, making her sigh with longing. Her answer was to run her fingers beneath the fastening of his trousers, freeing him from them and his undershorts, pushing them down to the ground. She knelt at his feet to help him step out of the remainder of his clothes. As she did so, he touched her hair and she looked up, seeing the evidence of his need rising proudly before her. His hands continued to rest against her hair as she loved him, sending him almost wild with desire. Only when she felt him move to still her, did she stop, trembling with rising passion.
"Grace, oh my darling, my beloved, I'll never last and I want to make love to you so badly."
She released him with a final kiss and, taking his hands, rose from her position at his feet. He stroked her face and, moving in, he kissed her with a heat he had never thought to possess, and which she alone could generate. She felt him hard against her, as he pressed her against his length, which was encased in the silk of her slip. The oyster silk moulded itself to every curve of her body. He could see the pulse hammering at the base of her throat, and the taut points of her nipples strain against the delicate fabric restraining them. Roland rained kisses on her neck, down over her collarbone, pushing aside the silk, cupping her breast in his hand, massaging it and taking it in his mouth, drawing the nipple to a sensitised point. Grace pressed into his mouth, wanting him, her only words, "Love me" spoken into the darkness which surrounded them.
He lay with her on the bed, their legs entwined once more as he moved to make love to her. This time he entered her slowly, taking her with him on a journey with one end point. He made love to her with measured thrusts, feeling his excitement mounting, kissing her passionately and breathing her name into each caress, which he shared with her, as he sought only her pleasure. She clung to him, her body rising and falling with his, whilst he marked her as his, her hips moving to meet his as she opened herself to him, wanting him deeper inside her than ever before, his alone for the taking. Her hands clutched at him, as she felt the sweeping wave of her climax hit her, hard and intense, and she cried his name into the night, pulsing around him as he joined her a few seconds later, feeling him move inside her as she held him, knowing that they belonged together. Her kisses were punctuated with words of love for him, and he revelled in the woman he held in his arms, and in whom he had just emptied his entire being. He held her head between his hands and kissed her back murmuring "I love you" over and over again until he finally rested against her and she enfolded him in her arms, rolling until they faced one another and the warmth of the night enveloped them, still loosely joined. How long they lay like this neither could say.
They did not speak; no words were necessary and nor would mere words suffice to express the whirl of emotions, which they had experienced together. Grace's body was sensitised to an almost unbearable level. All she wanted was him here in her arms; and she had him. Their limbs intertwined in a loose tangle with the bed sheets, as their hands stroked, and lips caressed, anywhere they could reach. She marvelled at the strength of her response to him, the delicious, eroticism of the climb towards the pinnacle of physical release, which swept all before it and made her lose control. She felt no loss of self though. What he wanted was the same as her desires; she had no needs beyond his presence in her life and his body hard, and lodged deep, within hers. Her lips parted beneath his, as his tongue slowly and deliberately explored the smooth depths offered to it, and danced a pavane of pleasure with hers. The shared sounds of rising passion vibrated through their mouths, subtly adding to the pulsing sensation in their loins. His fingers forged an ever widening tender passage into her and she moved against his hand, moaning with pent-up desire, her body undulating and climbing steadily towards the peak once more. She took him in her hand and, running her fingers lightly along him, heard, and felt, his response to her as the breath hissed from his lungs. His name floated in the still of the night as she gave herself up to the movement of his hands, which ran a sensuous path as his thumb circled her and made her cry out with delight. He rolled her so she was lying on her stomach and, lifting her hips from the bed, he encouraged her to kneel, all the time stimulating her.
"Roland, please, now."
He positioned himself behind her and eased into her, giving her time to adjust, his movement gentle and incremental, enabling her to feel the same cycle of pleasure, which she was giving him. Leaning forward his hands cupped her breasts which fell into his hands like ripe fruit, allowing him to stimulate them while he made love to her, until her body started to move more erratically. His mouth was on her back and his tongue traced the length of her spine, making her tingle and push back against him. He had never felt such desire before, but he refused to give in because he wanted her to climax with him. Her head hung forward, enjoying his hands on her and the pressure deep inside. He could hear her pant as she moved her hips to meet his thrusts and felt the slight tightening of her grip on him. The curved outline of her body, moving with him, set his blood pulsing and she seized the sheet, her fingers grasping and kneading it. He moved his hands to offer more intimate stimulation and was met by a gasp of pleasure and a quickening of her movement as her grip on him tightened. He knew she was close and, deepening his reach into her, he told her what she did to him. Her hand pressed against his as he pleasured her and suddenly she was there, legs buckling as her body quivered and she pulled him deeper into her. He held her against him as he thrust several times in quick, deep succession and the dam broke within her. They collapsed together, his arms around her and his length still pulsing and leaping. The sounds she made were ones of pure satisfaction and she reached behind to stroke his thighs, still lodged between her legs.
"Oh, my Grace, I've such love for you, only ever you, my darling."
The night air was heavy with the scent of flowers and the wisteria leaves framing the window rustled in the warm breeze beyond. Grace moved and, wrapping his arms around her, she nestled against him.
"I've never been so happy, so content. I love you, my own darling."
She kissed his hands, the scent of her desire for him clinging to them, as she snuggled safe and warm in her lover's arms. He held her close, overwhelmed by a need to protect her, he knew not from what.
"You're mine, Grace, my woman, my everything. I can't think or sleep for want of you."
"Nor I, Roland, but we must try, and I think we may just succeed now, at least for a few hours."
He buried his face into her hair, breathing in the scent of the woman who set his soul on fire, at peace with himself and the world.
Your reviews are always so helpful and supportive. Thank you so much, in advance. XX
