Author's Notes:

Maxon has to go away on palace business. How will America help him to cope while they are apart? What sort of "Welcome Home" will he receive?

This was a suggested story line by Your biggest fan.

WARNING! For graphic sexual content. If this sort of material offends you, please go read something else. You have been WARNED! All others please continue on and...

Enjoy!

~Sweetwaterspice

Maxon and America: Bedtime Stories

"Daddy's Home"

I lay in lonely sheets missing the taste of little laughs in midnight hours,

craving the touch of familiar fingertips,

while silence replaces the sigh of my name.

The moon seems so far tonight.

~ Liv Armelle

~ Maxon

"I can't believe you'll be gone for two whole weeks!"

"I'm not looking forward to it either darling," I say, taking a seat next to America on our bed. I take her hand and kiss it. Considering my departure three months ago seemed like an eternity away. How the hell did it get here so quickly? America and I had never been separated for more than a couple of days and that was plenty to drive me insane. She usually had been able to accompany me on some shorter trips but since this scheduled visit to New Asia fell right smack dab in the middle of all the planning for the upcoming Summer Bazaar, America could see no way of getting away. Besides, seeking a peace agreement with New Asia hadn't been a walk in the park. After hours of phone calls, compromises document drafts and political red tape, we were two signatures away. The New Asian regime, let's just say, hadn't quite trusted the intentions of the Illéan monarchy. I couldn't blame them. Not after all the damage caused by my father. But we wanted an alliance and they needed one. It had been hard work but the end result would be worth it.

"What am I supposed to do without you, Maxon...for two entire weeks?! I can't bear the thought," she sulks and rests her head on my shoulder.

I grin and nuzzle her neck pushing aside my thoughts regarding New Asia, the peace agreement and everything else I didn't care to think about at this moment. With a couple of hours left before I leave for the Royal airstrip all I wish to do is concentrate on my wife. "Maybe you'll finally get some rest without me here," I tease.

"If you're referring to your ravenous appetite for me, I think I'll miss you just as much for breakfast as you'll miss me for dessert." America tilts her face upward, kissing me in that seductive way that makes my spine tingle and sends blood rushing to my appendage which instantaneously responds. "I think…" she purrs, undoing my tie, "you deserve a double portion." She draws on my bottom lip, sucking softly. I groan. "How else will you survive an entire fourteen days without savoring me?"

"I will be quite deprived...and rather...," I growl into her kiss and press her back unto the bed. It doesn't take long before our clothes are scattered on the floor and we are making lustful, passionate love. I thread my fingers between hers, push her arms above her head so she can feel the impact of my thrusts, deep and hard…very hard. America's sexual cries are like an angel's trumpet and she doesn't hold them back. I greedily want more. But, as I watch her pretty face draped in bliss...those big, blue eyes dilated, the dotted shades of pink on her ivory cheeks, lips swollen and mouth opened as she takes me– I record each detail. Memories of her smile, her lips, her scent will be with me; a constant reminder that I must hurry back home. And when I fall asleep apart from her, these are the memories I will conjure and I will make love to her just like this when she comes to visit me in my dreams...

"Yes, darling, the flight has been uneventful so far. We'll be touching down in an hour."

I smile, listening to America on the other side of the phone. We have been in the air for close to 16 hours and I was ready to touch land knowing that once I did that, it would be the first step on my way back home.

"Yes. I will tell her," I chuckle. "I won't forget."

My smile fades and my heart just aches. "I miss you too, sweetheart." I close my eyes, leaning my head against the headrest of my seat. The image of America's face blooms crystal clear in my mind.

"I love you too...with all of my heart." I take an aching breath. "I'll call you soon."

And with that I end the call on my cell, watching as her beautiful contact picture fades to the wallpaper one I had chosen of her on our honeymoon– sitting on a boulder in front of a waterfall, barefoot and laughing. I had taken it myself. I sigh. God, I miss her.

I stand from my seat. Stavros is fast asleep in one of the leather seats next to a window, a copy of "Sherlock Holmes and the Hound of the Baskervilles" lies open on his chest. I grin, musing he must be off on a journey solving some crime mystery in his dreams– the constant click of a keyboard in the background doesn't seem to stir a limb or even the twitch of an eyelid.

Opting to leave Stavros alone, I move towards the sound of the clicking keyboard just a few seats ahead. No need to wake the man. I slide into the leather seat across a deeply concentrated brow. A set of dark, almond shaped eyes rimmed by dark frames glances up at me. She doesn't speak as she gnaws on her lips with her front teeth.

"How can you work this much? You haven't stopped since we took flight. Don't you ever get tired?" I ask, breaking the silence. She keeps with her task, unflinching, unyielding.

"Nope. Keeps the mind busy and my senses alert. It's the way we are wired, you know." The corner of her mouth quirks up into a tiny smile.

"I appreciate your work ethic, Elise. But you really need to take a break."

"I can't. There's still so much to do before our meeting with the President of New Asia tomorrow."

"Elise. Please. You're making me anxious."

With a huff, she reluctantly stops typing, the clickety-clack of the keys coming to an abrupt halt. "Fine. Your Majesty." Her teasing retort follows a widening smile.

"Thank you. I can't have my ambassador brain dead before we actually reach our destination, now can I?"

Elise bites her bottom lip as she closes her laptop. Her brow knits with a hint of a frown. She looks pensive and I worry that I may have asked too much of her so soon. Even with her ties to New Asia there is no guarantee I'll be successful. New Asia could still reject our terms.

"I want to thank you again, Your Majesty..."

Elise hasn't changed much. Even after being hurled into the spotlight as one of The Elite and not winning my heart or the crown, she remained...Elise. All propriety and rigidly duty bound.

"Maxon. Call me Maxon, please. I hate these formalities in informal settings."

"I won't address you by your given name, Your Majesty. It's highly improper."

I laugh. "I order you to."

"Still...my family would be mortified."

I look around. "I don't see your family here."

She only rolls her eyes, relaxing a fraction. "You're much too gracious...Maxon."

I smile at the sound of my name. "That's better."

"As I was saying..." she continues, "I want to thank you again for this opportunity. My family is highly honored that you'd chosen me to mediate this historic event between Illéa and New Asia."

"I couldn't have chosen a better person, I don't think."

"Some may seem to differ on that."

"Well, I think you're more than qualified. And besides, my opinion is the one that truly counts."

She inclines her head then looks at me. "Thank you...for your confidence in me."

"I wouldn't give it if I didn't have it." She didn't say anything, though there seemed to be a slight blush coloring her cheeks. "Oh! Before I forget, America sends her love."

She smiles, and with a hand over her heart, inclines her head once more saying, "And I equally return it." Our eyes meet and she's looking at me, thoughtful. "You look happy...Maxon."

I smile in spite of myself. "I am happy, Elise."

Elise takes a breath, says, "You made the right choice in my opinion. America was the right one for you. I knew it all along." Her eyes drop to her small hands folded neatly over her laptop.

"Was it that obvious?"

"It was. Though at first, I refused to believe it." Our eyes meet. "I wanted a crown, Maxon. I wanted the responsibilities. I wasn't afraid of that. But I didn't love you. I wouldn't have married you because I loved you."

Her words are spoken factually without a hint of resentment or regret. I knew her words were true. Elise and I were on two different spectrums. She would've been an obedient wife. But that's not what I wanted.

"I would have made you a good wife but looking at you now..." she pauses, "we...we wouldn't have worked. Duty to my country would come first, perhaps if I were lucky enough, love might follow."

I never expected Elise would be so forthright with her feelings especially after she refused our wedding invitation. She hadn't stepped foot back in the palace not until I summoned her to become my ambassador to New Asia. I was glad she came to meet with me then, albeit on a very professional level.

"You'll find the right person for you, Elise."

"Maybe. But until the next prince charming comes waltzing into my life, I've worked to do."

With a pointed look she opens her laptop resuming the sounds of the clicking keys.

I smile turning to look out at the dark canopy of night. The sounds of the keyboard, the quiet humming of the jet fade into the background.

I think about home. I think about America. I think about how much I love her and I think I am a very lucky man.

We landed safely in New Asia. I woke up the following day alone in a guest suite at the President's palace. The familiar scent of vanilla that greets me every morning is absent replaced by the sterile scent of freshly laundered linens. The soft feminine hand that crawls up my neck and pulls my head against a cushion of soft lips in a 'Good morning' kiss is a memory I yearn to relive. I stare longingly at the ceiling.

America. Her name, a constant in my thoughts.

Immediately turning to the nightstand, I pick up my cell wondering what time it is.

There is a message:

'"Thinking of you my love. I'll be watching tonight. You'll do great. I'm so proud of you. I love you."' ~America

The message ended with a row of hearts. I smile.

I reply:

"Missed holding you in my arms last night. This room is quite big and empty without you. I miss the smell of you hair. Wish you were here. Thank you for everything. I love you, my darling." – Maxon

The highly anticipated meeting with the New Asian President is in a few hours. I carry the weight of my nation on my shoulders but there is one person that makes my load feel lighter. She is the one I carry with me in my heart. And as long as she is with me there is no fear I can't overcome.

We meet behind closed doors and Elise doesn't disappoint me as she outlines the measures of the peace agreement translating for each side. Although Illéa wouldn't shoulder the absolute blame for the mockery the war had been, both sides have agreed that a minor trade disagreement had been the root cause for the escalating tensions that led to the loss of so many lives. My father had manipulated the system for his own agenda but taking full responsibility would've left me vulnerable. This agreement was a win for both sides. The trade routes would be open again and the embargo against New Asia lifted. In turn, New Asia would freely share their advancements in new technology for the benefit of my people.

We sign the agreement in the palatial Presidential office before a mass congregation of cameras, photographers and newspapers from every nation. It was being broadcast live to Illéa and my thoughts shifted to my darling America. She was proud of me and my heart burst with pride.

The day wouldn't slow down after the signing. We leave the Presidential palace in a motorcade to meet with various representatives and politicians at a luncheon where I would give a speech. The streets were lined with cheering, hopeful faces and well wishers waving white handkerchiefs and tiny flags representative of both nations. Of course, not everyone had laid out the welcome mat. Many among the crowd held signs of protest but I couldn't let those bother me. I had done the right thing.

After the luncheon we are headed back to the palace for a brief respite. Tonight, there is black tie affair planned in my honor where the new alliance between our two countries will also be celebrated. As I sit in the limo across from Stavros and Elise watching as they skim through various documents between them, making notations and exchanging opinions, my cell buzzes against my chest. I pull it out from the left pocket inside my suit jacket.

A message:

'You are the most amazing man I've ever known. Illéa stands taller and stronger tonight. I am so proud to be your wife. I think you deserve some very special treatment when you get back home. Can't wait to get my hands on you...' ~America

This message ended with a row of kisses. And there was an attachment. A rush of heat flares my face.

"Is everything all right, Your Majesty?" Stavros asks, looking at me over the top of his spectacles. Damn his eagle eyes!

"Yes...just," I clear my throat. "Just a message from America. She said she watched the whole thing on TV."

He acknowledges with a nod. To his credit he doesn't inquire further and returns his attention back to the papers in his hand.

Dropping my eyes back on the selfie of America, a head to shoulder shot, she is sitting back against the headboard of our bed, her white nightgown hanging off one shoulder, her lips softly relaxed with the tip of her index finger wedged in between. Her hair is loose and her blue eyes, two pools of seduction were looking straight at me . What I wouldn't do to kiss that mouth right now.

I almost drop the phone as it buzzes again.

Message:

'And this one to let you know what I'm thinking about right at this very second...' ~America

My mouth is dry. I bite the inside of my cheek so I wouldn't give anything away. It's another head to shoulder shot. This time her head is slightly tilted back, eyes closed and her lips are tightly wrapped around her middle finger.

My heart is slamming in my chest and the limo suddenly feels not private enough and way too warm. I tug at my collar which now feels too tight and let out a very slow breath.

It was going to be a long two weeks.

"What?! How much?!"

Elise looks at me stone faced. "That's the price, Your Majesty."

"A hundred?" I was being robbed...by a twelve year old girl! I look at Elise with a plea.

"She won't part with it for less."

"It's costume jewelry for crying out loud not the royal gems!" I hiss under my breath trying to avoid a scene as a few shoppers around us stretch their necks and cast prying looks in our direction.

We are in one of the most popular New Asian market places. I remembered the exact location of this particular shop. I remembered entering, browsing the various items on display. That's when I saw the bracelet behind the glass case and recalled the smiling face of the shop owner as he handed me the piece. I remembered feeling the smoothness of the stones between my fingers, picturing myself slipping it on her dainty wrist, how it would look on her. There was one particular girl I couldn't get out of my mind and I bought it for her. It was the only gift I had purchased on that trip.

The girl spoke to Elise gesturing at me, a frown grooved in her brow. I wished I had an inkling of what she was saying. My own skill at the native tongue was not the best to say the least. After the little mercenary was finished I look at Elise.

"She understands that you wish to purchase the piece, Your Majesty and since these are now out of production, she feels her price is more than fair."

"Does she know who I am?" I ask, scowling back at the girl who mirrors the exact same look etched on my face.

Elise smiles. "She does and that is why she thinks she's actually giving you a bargain."

"A bar..." I stop myself, yanking out my wallet from the inside pocket of my jacket. I look at the necklace dangling around her neck. It's the match to the bracelet I bought for America on my last trip to New Asia with my father...back when my feelings for America were real and complicated and frustrating and thrilling all at the same time.

I pull out the bills and hand it over to the little extortioner. She gives me a wry smirk, a glint of satisfaction in her dark eyes. Taking the bills and stuffing them in the front pocket of her jeans, she takes off the necklace and hands it to me. A string of smooth beads pools in the palm of my hand. I restrain my own smile of satisfaction. Sure, I had overpaid, ten times over but having the necklace in my possession made the amount not seem quite enough now.

I drop the necklace inside one of the pockets of my suit jacket.

The girl presses her palms together and gives a courteous bow, thanking me. At least I understood that much. She looks up at Elise who listens as she speaks and then lifts her eyes to me.

"She would like to know if she could help you with anything else?"

I huff. "Thank you but no, thank you."

Elise translates and the girl isn't phased by my barb. She pats the pocket where she had stuffed the cash flashing me a sly grin and with another bow, turns from our presence.

"I'm rather relieved, Your Majesty," Elise smiles as we head out of the shop, "that your bartering skills are much better with grow-ups than they seem to be with twelve year-old females." I know she's having fun at my expense.

"She was ruthless."

"Indeed."

I sit in the bedroom that has served as my home for the past ten days. I welcome the respite. My schedule has been jammed packed with visits to almost every province in New Asia which included visiting local villages highly impacted by the war, to luncheons and dinners and speeches in between. It was exhausting but necessary for the healing between our nations. And every minute, I thought of America.

She would be so much better than I at offering words of comfort to the widows of fallen soldiers, to fatherless children, to soldiers broken by a war that defended nothing. Every story, every image was heart wrenching and I wasn't sure how much more I could take.

We had made it a habit to speak daily if just for a few minutes. She kept me updated on the progress for the Summer Bazaar and I shared all she wanted to know about the people of New Asia. For my part, I limited some of the gory details to what I had witnessed were the sad results of the war from our conversations. She didn't press me about it though I knew she wanted to. I was grateful. I compensated, telling her instead about the places I'd been and the strange foods I'd tasted. How gracious the New Asian people had been. It was nice to hear her voice and it was the last thing I heard before turning out the lights every night.

"Is Elise going to come?" America asks as we speak on the phone one evening.

"Maybe."

I can sympathize as I hear her sigh. She had tried convincing Elise to join the other Selected for the Bazaar. It would be an event to help raise funds for schools and offer job training to help those who had been in the lower castes. Elise wouldn't commit.

"Very well. I just hoped she could see how much we need her here at home too."

"Elise is duty conscious to her country. I'm sure she'll come around."

"I hope you're right. I hate that she stays away from all palace functions."

Not wanting to talk about Elise or the Bazaar or anything else but us, I say, "I miss you."

"How much?" I can almost see her smiling as she says it.

"More than I could show you over this damn phone." She laughs.

"I can't wait for you to come home."

"I can't wait to hold you." I pause a heartbeat, ask, "What are you wearing?"

"What? What am I wearing? Like...right now?"

"Mhmm..."

The momentary shock disappears in an instant. "Well...if you must know...," she drawls, "I am wearing your Angeles Kings jersey and a pair of your cotton boxers...and calf length socks. How sexy is that, huh?"

I growl. America laughs again. "Damn sexy. Though to be frank, I'd rather you were wearing that nightgown from the pictures you sent me or something more...see through."

"I'm sure you can imagine that just fine."

"Oh...I am imagining it...quite vividly," I grin. "Which I've been thinking..."

"What?"

"I think...I should have my own private collection of pictures. You know...for when I'm away."

"Maxon! You naughty boy!"

I laugh. But she doesn't grant me my wish. Well, it was worth a shot.

We talk for a bit longer until she tells me that Mary has arrived to get her ready for the day. "I'll be dreaming of you," I tell her. We end with a string of I love you's and then there's silence.

I set my cell on the nightstand and pick up the beaded necklace that sits on top. I lean back on the pillows holding it by the clasp and letting it pool into my palm over and again. I grin. I'm like a schoolboy daydreaming of the girl I love. I can't wait to make love to her in my dreams tonight.

My cell buzzes.

Message:

"Just thought you'd like to see how sexy I look in your jersey and boxers." ~America

The picture isn't risqué by any means but it still makes my heart leap. She has that morning glow about her with those swollen lips and messy hair. She's so damn sexy. And those long legs make me think very wicked things...

Reply:

"Just wait until I get my hands on you. I'm starved." – Maxon

Message:

"Hurry. I'll be waiting." ~America

"How was your flight home, Your Majesty?" Harrison greets me once as I step foot on the pebbled driveway of the palace. I take a deep breath. The warm afternoon breezes of Angeles greet me, mixed with the fragrant blooms of late spring. Home. I'm glad to finally be home.

"Good. Thank you, Harrison. And how have you been?" He takes my coat and we are walking towards the steps to the main door.

"Very well, Your Majesty."

"I'm glad to hear it. Busy at the stables no doubt? How many foals this season?"

Harrison can't help the glint in his eyes as he proudly announces, "Four. We have been fortunate to have sired such a strong blood line. Your stables are the envy of many, Your Majesty." I can see the pride he wears by the puff of his chest. "Although we have gotten quite a few requests for us to allow Baldorado to sire other mares," he says a bit gruffly.

"You don't sound too pleased with that. I would think you'd welcome the opportunity," I say as we pass the royal guards stationed at the door.

"The decision isn't mine to make. I'm just...particular that's all."

We pause in the foyer as I smile at the familiar scent of home. Harrison speaks. "I must tell you, Your Majesty, we were all very proud of your accomplishments regarding the agreement with New Asia. Mending broken bridges is never an easy task. You did excellently. You are the kind of leader your mother would hoped you would be."

The bond between Harrison and I has become tighter since he became my valet and although he is not my father his words of encouragement and pride never fail to have somewhat of a warm effect on me. I give him a thin smile, almost embarrassed by the words of praise. "Thank you."

He simply inclines his head then asks, "Will you be dining privately or should I have the servants set dinner for you and the queen in the Great Room?"

"Privately. We will ring for it."

"Very well, Your Majesty." He pauses then says, "It's good to have you home, sir."

"It's good to be home," I smile widely. "Now...If you'll pardon me, Harrison, I am dying to greet Mrs. Schreave." We part ways and setting aside talk about politics and horses, I head like an arrow, straight to America.

The phone conversation we had once I had climbed into the limo headed to the palace has been playing in my mind ever since. She'd said, as she promised, she'd be waiting for me. In America's language, I knew exactly what she meant.

"And I'm not wearing boxers or a jersey," she had made a point to tell me as well. My heart spasmed.

Two weeks has been an insufferable hell of torture. Her pictures teased me. They were like looking at a full color picture of my favorite dish, unable to savor or sink my teeth into it. It's as if all my other senses– to smell of her, to taste her, to feel her had been cruelly severed and I was helpless to my wretchedness. I lost count of how many times I had looked at those pictures; sometimes I even found myself discreetly flicking to them in the middle of a meeting. To have been apart from her for this long– good God! I feel as if I haven't eaten in days– a man on the very edge of starvation. But I was home now. I could feel my mouth watering, my hands aching, my heart staggering as I bounded up the steps, taking them two at a time, to our bedroom.

I step inside, eager. My blood thrums with life.

I'm surrounded by the world of my dreams. I absorb it in mere seconds. The familiar scents of my bedroom...of her.

And that sight that greets me, does not disappoint. Every word I had planned on speaking dies in my mouth. I'm rendered mute.

"Welcome home, Your Majesty..."

My eyes are wide, my mouth suddenly dry. She's flesh and blood, not a memory or a dream– not just a voice on the other end of the phone and not an ocean away. Not a damned picture. Her red hair is loose, draping about her shoulders. Her smile is as wicked as her lack of clothing and the look in her eyes screams nothing more than feral hunger. My gaze is unwavering as I take in my wife dressed in see through, white lingerie which gaped wickedly in the front. My eyes track along the bare patch of skin right under her bosoms, down to her flat stomach and bellybutton, which like two beacons, beg for my touch.

"Daddy's home," I say, my voice hoarse, feeling the tightness of my penis straining against my zipper. I see her face flush at my greeting.

I hurriedly shed my jacket and yank off my tie. Kicking off my shoes, socks and dropping my pants as if they were lit on fire, I hurry to the one person who has this uncanny power over me– the power to make me feel as if I could literally combust and if I didn't touch her right now I just might. Once my knees hit the edge of the bed we virtually crash into each other. Moans and groans, breaths, gasps, the sounds of lips and mouths sliding over each other boom like a melodious chorus around us. Every one of my senses is heightened and my heart races like its in hyperdrive. America is kneeling on the mattress and my hands map her body, every curve, each hill recalled to memory. Her slender arms glide around my shoulders. We are kissing with a desperate hunger. Her fingers gather handfuls of my hair into her palms. I groan louder and she melts into me.

"Welcome home, Maxon," she pants between kisses.

"Damn, I missed you, America." My heart is slamming in my chest, still not believing I'm holding her in my arms.

She tastes of strawberries and I love the sweetness of her mouth as I savor her over my tongue. The familiar scent of vanilla that I had missed so much these past two weeks wraps around me like a welcome home caress. My hands continue exploring her body and I squeeze her thong-clad ass tightly in my hands. I want to leave my fingerprints all over her. She lets her head fall back as I run my tongue along the column of her throat.

"What the hell took you so long?" she whispers against my mouth. Her hand runs the length of my stiff cock. The feel of her hand like a bolt of lightning shoots through me. And I can't hold on any longer.

I'm breathing, urgent and uncontrolled breaths in her ear. I pull back and look at her, holding her face between my hands. "Don't you worry. We have two weeks of catch-up to do. And I'm planning on catching up."

I see the fire blaze in her blue eyes as she lets out a shaky breath. My fingers trace the sides of her swan-like neck to her shoulders and without warning, I rip the skimpy piece of lingerie straight off her body. America gasps at the sound of rent material now destroyed on the mattress and a devilish smile spreads across my face. My hands and mouth are immediately on her bared mounds, running my tongue over pink buds. Lowering my fingers to her hips, her panties aren't spared either and in an instant they are gone. I can't help the urge that overwhelms me and skim my fingers into the wet heat of her desire as my mouth clamps on the pulse point of her neck. And I groan feeling how soft, delicate and how very moist she is...for me.

America, still on her knees, holds on to me and parts her legs just so. I know what she wants. I insert a finger and she whimpers, "Oooohhh". A second soon follows. Her hands are in my hair and she tugs tighter. I hold my fingers unmoving inside of her as my thumb begins to roll over her swollen, tented clit. She curses softly in my ear, as her breaths of pleasure brush by. I want to watch her so I pull back. That ethereal look of sexual beauty drapes her face. I love it. I give her what she wants with my fingers in deep and gentle strokes but there is so much more I want to do. So much more I've been thinking of doing to her. So I withdraw my fingers, taste her, then pulling on her hips, "Lie down, darling," I say. She moves, laying back on the bed and I sink to my knees. I yank her bottom to the edge of the mattress, a little yelp escaping her. I waste no time and I taste and savor and eat. And my mouth continues to water. And I continue to feed. She's the tastiest dish I've had in fourteen days.

America's fingers are gently stroking my hair as I lave her soft folds. Each coo of pleasure, each syllable of my name is like a drop of water on the sizzling fire in my veins. Two weeks. Two whole damned weeks without tasting her like this. I'm parched. I greedily drink from her fountain pausing just long enough to admire her womanhood before diving in once more. I don't want to stop. Ever. But there is a greater eagerness persisting in my loins. A monstrous need that can no longer be ignored. And it keeps calling to me to release it.

As America undulates beneath my kiss, I push my boxers over my hips and down to my knees. I hate to stop but I have reached a point of no return. The residue of her essence is fresh on my lips and with a sweep of my tongue, I lick it off. I stand, kicking off my boxers as I smile appreciatively at my wife. I rip my shirt open and buttons fly everywhere and I toss it behind me. My bare skin absorbs the touch of America's hands like water to a dry sponge. We move further unto the bed. Her legs part in an invitation as I kneel between her ivory thighs. I take one of her hands, then the other, pressing a feathered kiss on the pulse of each wrist then thread my fingers with hers. I raise her arms above her head and lean over her; our bodies horizontal. I kiss her softly, teasing her ear, neck, shoulders, breasts. She's relaxed and pure submission is written all over her face; that beautiful face that has taken residence in my every thought. And in one commanding forward motion, I thrust myself into the luscious, heat of her body. In that moment of consummate delight when the heat of her body swallows me...I growl and everything I am surrenders to her will.

There's no sound more beautiful to me than America's voice when we're fused together. No sound that makes my blood boil, that makes my ears ring and every nerve in my body from head to toe thump with life. And it's not just the sound of her voice, no, not just her cries but the feel of her body, mind and soul unlike anything otherworldly, wrapped around mine. I'm in that place...beyond the physical pleasures, beyond the essence of life– she is bonded to me and I to her. We are two souls fastened in this vast universe where no span of space or time could keep us apart.

I bury my face into her neck, breathing her in. "I love you...I love you, America." I let myself drown in all that she is– my wife, my lover, my best friend as her body takes me to places only she can. Our lovemaking is not gentle. A part of my soul has been missing and it feels as if we have crossed this cosmos in search of each other and lastly like two shooting stars, finally collide and explode into oblivion.

The headboard bangs loudly against the wall, the mattress groans beneath us and our voices are a blend of fervor and wanton desire as limbs and mouths and words swirl like a tornado around us. Fingernails bury into my back and I welcome the message they send: More...more...more! This torrent, so violent, so raw sweeps us along, tossing us into each other, hurtling us into this abyss of passion where lovers fall and wish for no escape. And in this vortex, secure in the arms of my one and only, I climax; the effects a blinding explosion of lights behind the closed curtains of my eyes as the fire of life rips through my body, destroying my mind and body and leaving me spent.

America is breathing just as hard and soon fingers which had been clutching my shoulders slide off my body. Now she lies relaxed, free from the coiled tension I had felt under me a moment ago. She moans softly and lets out a satisfied sigh. "That was amazing," she smiles lazily, the back of her hand caressing my cheek.

"It has been too long hasn't it?" I say.

"Insufferably long."

We kiss softly, reveling in the aftermath of our lovemaking.

We spend time holding each other, speaking in soft whispers like lovers do and kissing and caressing not in a sexual way but in displays of genuine affection, grateful that we are together at last and not a thousand miles apart. We make love again, this time less rushed, deeper, sensual. Though the pace is slower, the result is just as electric. Afterwards, I vow never to leave her side again. Her laughter booms around me but I can only look upon her with all the love my heart can give.

"I have a gift for you," I tell her as I slip out of bed to retrieve it from my discarded jacket.

"A gift? Maxon, you shouldn't have." America sits up pulling the sheet over her bosom. Her eyes follow me.

I return, propping on an elbow against the mattress. "Of course I should. You're my girl. Now...open your hand." I gently lower the necklace into her palm.

"Maxon...it looks just like..."

"Your bracelet..."

"Yes! the one you brought me from New Asia. How did you..."

"Find it?" I laugh. "Let's just say, don't ever haggle with a twelve-year old girl."

"What?"

"Long story. Here. Let me put it on you." I shift to sit.

She smiles as I take the necklace. America lifts up her hair as I lean over and secure it around her neck. It rests just at her collarbone.

"You make it look even more beautiful."

America looks down, lifting the delicate beads off her neck. She thanks me with a kiss. "You'll never cease to amaze me."

"I certainly hope not." I lean back on the pillows, my hands under my head.

"It's beautiful."

"You're beautiful. God, I missed you so much. Being away from you is torture."

"I'm glad you're home." She eases down next to me, resting her head on my shoulder. "You really missed me that much?"

"Didn't I just show you how much?"

"Well, that was some pretty hot sex at the peril of my lingerie, may I add." She pokes my side and I laugh.

"Yeah...Uhm...sorry about that."

"You aren't in the least bit sorry."

"You're right. I'm not," I grin.

She props herself up on an elbow. Her hand goes to the necklace on her neck, rolling a bead between her fingers. Her eyes have that sparkle. She smiles at me and I ask what she's thinking as she bites her lower lip. She doesn't make me wonder for long and says, "Hmmm...about those pictures..."

Hope you enjoyed! Don't forget to post a review! You know how I love those!

If you left a review for Chapter 9 see my replies in the "Reviews" section.

If you have a suggestion for a Bedtime Story you can either PM me or post your idea on the Reviews message board.

If you are interested in submitting an idea or topic please see the "Guidelines for Special Requests" posted in the A/N section of Chapter 1 of "Bedtimes Stories".

What will be the next Bedtime Story you ask?

Stay Tuned!