Like a Horse Made of Air
Chapter Seven:"I really wish I'd thought of this sooner," Wren sighs happily when Tommy finds her in her greenhouse. She'd found and hired another woman to split the work with Rosie—Annabeth—and that had meant that she'd gotten to spend all day in her workspace for the first time since she'd opened Wren's Respite. She wraps her arms around his neck and offers him a kiss he accepts easily.
"Going that well, eh?" He smiles at her as he kisses her again.
"Mhm," she hums as she lets him go to tidy up. "I'll give it a few weeks and see what comes out in the wash before I see about anymore hiring, but I'm pleased to leave the 'sales floor' to people who enjoy it."
"Was thinking about that actually," Tommy offers casually as he lights up.
"Yeah?" Wren glances curiously. "How so?"
"If you think she'd be good for it," Tommy says, "maybe you could offer the next opening to Ada."
"It's just as much whether or not she'd go for it," Wren tells him as she wipes off her hands, "as it is whether or not she'd be good for it."
"I've been thinking about what you said about her needing to get her hands dirty to get it. I just don't have any jobs I could give her as she is," Tommy sighs.
"I'm not saying no," Wren tells him. "I'll talk to her. I'm just saying I won't force her if she refuses the position."
"Alright," Tommy agrees as he moves into the kitchen with her. "Mention she'll have her own money to buy those dresses and ridiculous shoes she likes, and you'll have her."
Wren shakes her head with a laugh, "you didn't have to tell me that. I think there are people in the 'New World' who know Ada's mad for fashion."
He huffs a noise of agreement then moves on, "you want to stay here tonight, then?"
In the two weeks since their new arrangement, they've only slept at her place the very first night. Otherwise she only spends time here for business or her…lunch breaks.
"You good for that?" She asks him as she grabs two glasses and sets them at their usual places at the table.
He grabs down the bottles of amaretto and whiskey and fills their glasses, "wouldn't have offered if I wasn't."
"That's fair," Wren allows. "Just surprised I suppose. Yes, I'd rather like that."
"I asked Pol to handle dinner tonight," Tommy tells her as he rolls the cigarette over his lip.
"We'll still have to put in an appearance," Wren sips her drink. "The kids adore you and will want to see you. Additionally, your being present and accessible during dinner is rather the whole point. If your serious about taking over entirely, you'll need to be consistent. Use these informal get togethers to prove your invested in them."
"I can't argue with the results," Tommy admits. "I've already seen a shift in the men and the work. There's already been a drop in petty in fighting, and an upswing in productivity. They're not so keen to watch Arthur and I argue anymore. Even Arthur and John seem happier."
"Humans are social animals, like dogs or horses. Most of us need or crave gatherings to feel connected and a part of the group while isolation—or feelings of isolation—tends to make us ill," she explains. "We don't need to stay 'til the last person leaves, you know. Bonus of staying here tonight is we can leave when we're done."
"Fair point," Tommy muses.
She's not with Tommy when the man comes in. She's networking with some of the wives, Rosie at her side. Then there's a scream, a crash, and a sudden snap of tension. She hears Tommy call her name and quickly makes her way to him. She finds him standing over a man sprawled in a chair. It's Macintyre she thinks, but it's hard to tell through all the blood. There are a few other men in various states of bloody, but he's the worst.
"Good thing you took those nursing courses, after all," Tommy quips as he holds a rag to the bleeding gash in the man's scalp.
"Good thing I have me kit here, more like," Wren returns as she steps up to carefully look her first patient over. "I need someone to bring me two basins, one with hot water and one with cold, a bottle of clear liquor, and me kit."
"I'll grab your kit," Ada offers quickly before rushing off.
There's a general sort of hubbub as people mill while she works. Everything she asks for is provided and a table is cleared for her workspace. She hears someone mention getting the kids home and then next thing she knows the gathering is broke up—the wives and kids sent home with escorts—while the men talk in low voices. She isn't sure how long it takes before she's seen to everything she can. She leaves instructions to clean up with Scud-boat, and retreats to clean herself up.
She's managed to get the worst of the blood off her, if not change, when Tommy slips in their room.
"Family meeting downstairs."
She follows him downstairs. She sits in a chair while Tommy stands behind her with the other Shelby's around the room.
"They'll be alright," she reports. "Macintyre will need to get plenty of fluids, iron and protein to help build him back up from all the blood he lost, but none of the injuries are permanent."
Tommy releases a sigh, "that's good."
"What happened?" Polly asks sharply from her place at the table.
"Bad intel," he tells her as he lights up and braces his hands along the top of her chair. "Had a pickup scheduled. Low profile. But someone sold the information to several groups on the sly. We weren't the only ones looking to take it."
"Who got it?" Arthur asks next.
Tommy's fingers brush against her where they curve over the wood, "we did."
"That's a bit of good and bad," Wren muses. "Is it worth it?"
"Already had a buyer before I sent them off," Tommy tells her. "We'll be able to unload it quickly."
"Any deaths?" Polly sighs.
"Not on our side," Tommy answers. "They don't think they killed anyone either but it's hard to say for sure."
"Who'd the intel come from?" John asks as he chews placidly on his toothpick.
"Campton," Arthur answers reluctantly.
"Aye," Tommy agrees grimly. "Michael Campton."
Polly swears nastily then says to Tommy, "you'll make an example of him."
Tommy tips his head in a nod, "we'll have to be quick."
John hops down from his perch, "I'm good to go."
Arthur stands with a frown, "aye, let's get it done."
When the rest look to her, she stifles her surprise—this is her first family meeting—and simply offers a curt nod of agreement.
Tommy takes her aside as the others prepare, "Campton was one of Arthur's friends from school."
"Ah, that explains his reluctance," she sighs. "Will he be alright?"
"Hard to say," Tommy sighs.
A thought occurs to her, and she steps quickly to her kit, and pulls out a vial and a needle, "This is a sedative. The dose I pulled will knockout most men."
She caps and offers the loaded syringe to Tommy, "just in case."
He accepts it with a thoughtful nod.
"I know I said we could stay at the house tonight," Tommy starts.
"I understand, Tommy," she kisses his cheek. "I'll wait here."
By the time he makes it back she's already been in bed for a few hours, trying to get what rest she can. Left unable to sleep without knowing if they were alright. She curls into him when he finally joins her in bed, his arms tight around her.
"Bad?" She whispers.
"Not as bad as it could be," he whispers back. "Used the sedative. Arthur will wake up with a sore head, but he won't have to dream about maiming a man he called friend."
She cups his cheek and kisses him gently, "you're a good brother."
He pulls her into him and kisses her again and again, "I'm a bad man."
"Fortunately for you, I like a bad man," she smiles.
"Aye, don't I know it," he sighs as he buries his face in her neck.
It's a few days later before he offers to stay at the house again.
"The crate is in the buyers care now," Tommy tells her as they get ready for the day. She privately revels in the understated intimacy that's emerged as she allows herself to relax around him. "And we have nothing going on for the moment while the men heal. And Polly has already agreed to stay over."
"Will you forgive me if I don't hold me breath?" She teases.
He moves behind her and does up the back of her dress, hands deft. She's still sometimes surprised by how physically affection he is. Whether they're alone or in company, he's almost always touching her.
He makes a show of contemplating before he offers, "could be convinced."
"Oh?" She laughs. "What if I ask nicely?"
He smiles a little bit as he turns her so she's facing him, "that depends on how nicely you can ask, doesn't it?"
She pushes up on tiptoe and wraps her arms around his neck while he steadies her at her waist, and her face tilts to his, "I think I've gotten good at asking very nicely."
Their lips have only just brushed when there's a clatter and shout, followed by a very distinct call for Tommy. She sighs and sinks back on her heels, offering him a wry smile.
And that would be why they haven't managed more than some kissing and light petting.
"One day," Tommy frowns at the door. "Those boys are going to have a try at girls and I'm going to pay someone to stalk them everywhere and ensure they never have a moments peace."
She laughs outright, "that'll be something. Doesn't change that the oldest is hardly ten. You'll have years to wait and plan for your revenge."
He grunts and guides her through the door. They descend into typically Shelby family chaos what with eight children ranging in age from two to thirty-five and Polly who's only occasionally helpful.
After breakfast she coaxes Ada to step aside with her. She's been giving it thought and that knowing keeps pinging her in regard to getting something going with the young woman. She rather thinks Tommy might have something to be worried about, there's a whisper that makes her think it's a man and definitely not one she should be with.
"Well, what do you want then?" Ada huffs as she walks beside her.
"And it's that attitude that keeps Tommy from giving you any responsibility," Wren sighs.
"What are you talking about," the girl snaps.
"Tommy's been talking about you," Wren informs her.
"Cursing me name is he then?" The girls scoffs.
"Not in the way you'd think. He says your clever, that'd you'd be an asset to the family business," Wren tells her. "But that you refuse to step up or show any signs you've actually matured into an adult."
The girl preens at the praise and then scowls at the backhand.
"I've told him you can't be that bad; to give you a chance," Wren muses. "But if this is how you act when he takes you aside, then I guess he was right."
"I can help the family," Ada protests hotly.
"Are you sure?" Wren asks her doubtfully. "I know you've still a bit of school left but you don't seem keen on anything that has to do with actual work."
The younger woman tilts a stubborn chin and tries to glare Wren down, it takes just a second to realize she's trying to emulate Tommy's intimidating stare. It falls rather short on the girl's soft face.
"Is that supposed to be an answer?" Wren asks wryly.
"I can work," Ada growls.
"I wasn't asking if you were capable. You've all your limbs and supposedly your wits about you," Wren dismisses. "I was asking about your willingness. Nobody wants to hire someone they have to micromanage to make sure the work gets done. The whole point of an employee is to free the manager up to do other tasks after all."
"I want to work, then," Ada huffs and tosses her hair.
"You willing to prove it?" Wren asks sharply.
"You don't have anything to do with the family business," Ada sighs as if Wren is simple.
"You're joking," Wren actually stops to level Ada with an incredulous stare. "You're not really that oblivious are you?"
"You're not family," Ada cries.
Wren shakes her head and walks off, suddenly doubting her own impulse. If Ada wouldn't even take the time to notice who's doing what with a business she ostensibly has interest in Wren's not at all sure she can trust her with anything.
"What?" Ada shouts, snatching at Wren's arm. "Fucking what? You tell me, you hear? I'm a Shelby too!"
"Firstly," Wren grits as she forcefully catches the girl's clawing hand and loops it through her own to stop her flailing, "stop fucking shouting and causing a scene. Strike one: not being able to comport yourself in a respectable manner while in public."
"Let them fucking watch," Ada snarls. "What are they going to do? They're nobodies."
"They can talk," Wren snaps back. "Appearances and reputation are important, no matter your business. You think folk whispering about the bratty, spoiled Shelby sister throwing tantrums in the street does your brothers any good?"
"You take that back," Ada hisses.
"Act like the fucking adult you claim you are, and I'll consider it," Wren states firmly.
Finally Ada stops struggling, walking along sullenly beside her. Wren keeps her own posture and poise impeccable, refusing to allow the girl to drag her down with her. Somehow they manage to make it to Birch Street without any further fighting. Wren unlocks the door and waves the girl through.
Ada throws herself into the sofa in the front room asking, "why are we here then?"
"This is me home," Wren tells her. "And also the base of me business."
"You've your own business?" Ada straightens in surprise.
"The fuck you think I do all day?" Wren asks exasperated. "It's not a secret, how are you so ignorant?"
"I am not," Ada begins to shout.
"It is better to be thought a fool, Ada Shelby," Wren declares, "then to open your mouth and remove all doubt. You don't want to be called bratty? Or childish? Or ignorant?"
She waits for Ada to meet her eyes.
"Then stop acting bratty, childish, and fucking ignorant. I really thought Tommy was overstating things with you, but now I can see he was actually giving you more credit than you deserve. You can't simply demand the world see you one way and expect them to treat you the way you want. Most folk aren't blind, deaf, or witless. They know what they see, and they react accordingly."
Ada's rigid and flushed with temper, but at least holding her tongue.
"I brought you here because I was going to offer you a job," Wren continues. "Give you a way to show Tommy you could be trusted with more responsibility and earn some money for yourself. Money to buy your own dresses and your own shoes, or whatever strikes your fancy. But quite frankly, I wouldn't hire you for that job as you are if you were me only other option. I'd rather do it meself than watch you fuck it all up."
Wren turns away and heads into to the kitchen to put the kettle on, "You can go, Ada."
There's a long silence as Wren goes about preparing a tisane. Rosie and Annabeth will be here shortly to get ready for their walkabouts, and Trisha too—she'd hired the girl to partner Ada as a Runner—though if Ada isn't going to step up she's going to have to train the girl solo. She's pulled out a few of her logs and is considering her options when Ada shuffles into the room and delicately takes a seat at the table. Wren watches her out the corner of her eye but doesn't otherwise acknowledge her.
"What do I need to do," Ada begins eventually, "to get the job."
"Nothing," Wren says. "The job I was considering is off the table."
"Let me try," Ada blinks and suddenly Wren realizes the girl's on the verge of tears. "Please. I know I can do it. Just let me try."
Wren considers the young woman thoughtfully a moment, "you certain? I'm not going to jump you ahead. You'll have to start out at the beginning like anyone else with no experience."
Ada sets her jaw and gives a firm nod, "I'm sure."
"Alright," Wren nods. "we'll have a trail run. If you do good work, we'll write up a contract at the end of the week."
"What'll I be doing?" Ada discreetly wipes at her eyes while Wren pours her a cup and fetches some biscuits.
"Right now I have two Saleswomen," Wren begins. "But they are limited by what they can carry. Me job is to create the product and manage their jobs and pay their wages. If I take time to run them more product, I have to either track them down and find out what they're low on or guess and hope I guess right. Or I can have them stop in with me and restock, which takes them away from their customers. Either scenario takes time away from the other things that need doing. If I hire a pair of Runners, though, I have a link between me and them I can rely on. So that all the jobs get due attention, and my women have stock to sell. You following?"
Ada nods.
"As the Runner we'll be trusting you and your partner to take good notes, be where you need to be when we need you to be there, and to keep track of the stock and make sure it all ends up in the right place," Wren informs her. "The part of your job that demands so much trust is that you'll spend a fair amount of time with no one looking over your shoulder while you two move between locations."
"Who's my partner?" Ada asks as she chooses a biscuit.
"Trisha Blakley," Wren informs her.
"Davey Blakley's daughter?" Ada asks.
"Yeah, that'd be the one," Wren nods as she returns to her books.
"She's alright," Ada muses aloud.
"Glad to hear it," Wren says wryly. "You two shouldn't have a problem working together then."
It's several more minutes before there's a knock at the door.
Ada jumps up with a quick, "I've got it!" and races away.
Annabeth lives near Trisha, so it isn't a surprise when the two come in together and it's only a few more minutes after that that Rosie shows up. Then it's time to work. Wren makes the decision to walk with the Runners their first day, so they have easy access to answers, and she can smooth over any first day jitters. She goes over keeping their Logs, tracking the Routes, and keeping time. Warns them to keep an eye on their surroundings—both for hazards and thieves—and each other at all times.
"No splitting up," Wren tells the girls. "I absolutely mean that. I'll hire every Runner in working pairs, so no one has to travel as a possible target by themselves. Your job is as much to look out for each other as get to where you need to go, you understand?"
"Yes, Ma'am," Trisha chirps obediently while Ada nods.
With that covered they head out. For the most part, she lets Annabeth and Rosie mentor the girls on "Customer Service" and how to judge a crowd and the Route. She answers any questions put to her, makes any corrections she sees, but doesn't really take a hands-on role except when they're in the house. This is where they'll be conducting the most business with her and where they should get used to dealing with her. She teaches them to give reports, fill out the paperwork tracking the product in and out, and relay any messages or instructions from The House to The Walk.
It isn't a complete disaster, and she can already see the beginnings of a dynamic between the girls, so she considers the day a success after they finish the End-of-Day and sends everyone home. She takes the time after they're gone to enjoy the quiet.
It's pushing late and she's only just finished a bath when she hears Tommy on the stairs. His tapping the banister on his way up an agreed upon signal after a scare had very nearly ended with her shooting him.
She's sitting in her bathrobe in front of her vanity when he comes into their room and grins playfully, "there's a sight for sore eyes."
"Hello to you too," she laughs as he tips her head back for a kiss.
When their lips meet she finds herself automatically bracing for an interruption, conditioned by weeks of living in the Shelby household. She thinks he is too, based on the way he pulls back and glances at the door before shaking his head. He grabs up the jar with the cream for her hair and begins applying it for her. She sighs and sinks into the pleasure of having someone take care of her.
It's as he's brushing her hair—all the way down to the small of her back now—that she says, "I talked with Ada today."
"Heard about that," he tells her.
She grimaces but isn't surprised. Like she told the girl, people will talk.
"Had a rough start, but I've put her on a trail run as one of me Runners," she tells him. "Her and Trisha Blakely."
"Heard that one has a good head on her," Tommy shares. "Hopefully it'll rub off on our Ada."
"Hopefully," she agrees. "How was your day?"
He's quiet as he sets the brush aside and braids her hair into a sleep braid.
When he finishes she turns toward him to look up at his face, "Tommy?"
He cups her face and rubs his thumb against her cheek, a repetitive circular motion, as he sighs.
"We're in a holding pattern," he says quietly. "Everything we do feeds into itself. We make decent money, but we aren't making enough to push ahead."
She stands up to wrap her arms around him and rest her cheek on his chest, and he wraps his arms around her in turn his cheek resting on the top of her head.
"We need to do something," Tommy whispers. "Step up somewhere. Or we aren't going to get anywhere."
"What is it you're trying to do?" She asks him as she rubs at his back.
"Legitimate business," he tells her. "Something steady, stable, that we can float the less legal money through. Gain more traction, expand our influence."
"Build an empire," she muses wryly.
"Aye," he responds seriously. "Drag the whole family outta the mud. Lift them up where no one can touch them."
She studies the serious cast of his face, before she whispers, "no one's untouchable. Pride before the fall, is a saying for a reason. The moment you think you're invulnerable is the moment you're struck down. Arrogance and complacency kills far more often than ambition."
"But," she allows, "you can make it very difficult on those who would try. All in, we said. Partners. There's me business you can use. It's too new to do much, but it's a start."
"You sure?" He asks her.
"I wouldn't offer if I wasn't," she tells him. "Me own business isn't spotless. I could be raided if the police get proof I'm deliberately selling contraceptives."
"You won't be raided," Tommy reassures. "Our coppers take Peaky money same as everyone else in Birmingham."
"Religion tends to make tyrants out of otherwise reasonable people," Wren tells him bluntly. "And you don't have the power to control who gets moved in and out of the cities domestic and military forces yet. If the government moves in someone higher up the food chain, for whatever reason, they may not be able to be bribed as easily as a local copper. But that's neither here nor there. What business were you thinking of then, if not mine?"
"I'd like to get a pub for Arthur," Tommy says. "He used to talk about getting one when we were in France."
"If you get him a pub," she laughs, "make sure you hire someone to do his books."
"Already have an accountant," Tommy smiles.
"Oh, is that so?" She smiles back.
"Licensed and everything."
"Sounds awful fancy," Wren says mock thoughtful, "you sure you can afford them?"
"She's the reasonable sort," Tommy murmurs as he nuzzles her cheek.
All at once she realizes that here in her house, there's no one but them. There'll be no interruptions.
For weeks it's been nothing more than sweet kisses and teasing touches. She falls asleep to his hands stroking down her back and sides, grazing her breasts and her arse. Wakes up to those long, thick fingers rubbing circles into her belly while the man brushes kisses along her neck. If it weren't for her "lunch breaks" Wren would have expired from sheer frustration long before now.
"Tommy," she whispers.
He hums his acknowledgment against the side of her neck, and she shivers at the sensation. She slides her hands down his back and around his sides to his front, feels the hitch in his breath as she undoes the fist button of his waistcoat. He pulls back enough to watch her but does nothing to dissuade her.
When all the buttons have been undone, he shrugs out of the garment and drapes it over the vanity chair. Then shrugs off his suspenders while she removes his collar.
He pulls her into a kiss that starts light but steadily deepens with hunger. She's distracted from the buttons of his shirt when he tugs on her bottom lip with his teeth. She mews and he takes the opening to slip his tongue into her mouth and along her own.
His arm holds her to him while he frees the other to smooth down her spine and grab her arse. She pulls away from his mouth to gasp when he pulls up the back of her robe to message her bare backside and dip his fingers between her legs. She's already so wet his fingertips slip along her skin and they both moan.
He pulls back a moment, chest rising and falling quickly, to ask, "how far do you want to go?"
Her first impulse is to tell him as far as they can get but remembers again there's no one to interrupt them.
She looks her man in the eye and makes the conscious choice, "I trust you. I want everything with you."
He grips her by the back of her neck to pull her into a kiss and she can't help the way she melts into his hold. She opens easily to his tongue as his hands map the curve of her and makes a noise of protest when he backs away.
His hands turn to the abandoned task of removing his clothes and she joins him. His shirt and undershirt land on the floor a moment before his trousers do. She yelps a laugh as he picks her up by the back of her thighs and she steadies herself on his shoulders. He grins as he walks to the bed and drops her on top of it before making a show out of pushing off his pants. She admires the sight of him: his few tattoos and scattering of scars, the cut of his muscles and the jut of his cock.
Then she pushes up on to her knees and opens her robe, shrugging out of it and dropping it by his feet, leaving her bare. He urges her back and down as he climbs over her. When he settles the length of his body against hers for the first time she doesn't have words for just how good it feels to have him between her thighs.
He's kissing her again as she clings to him with his arms braced either side of her. He breaks from her mouth to trail down her neck. He shifts his weight to free a hand which trails lazy paths over her skin before he cups her breast. First he kneads it, before he teases the nipple. Then he cups it as he lowers his head to lick and suck on her bud.
He takes turns lavishing attention between the two mounds as he keeps her in place with his hips, his weeping cock hot and blatant as it presses into her skin. He goes on until she's squirming helplessly, her fingers tangled in his hair and breathy "Tommy, please" on her lips. When he pushes up above her she's treated to the sight of his heavy-lidded eyes with his mouth red and wet.
"Tommy," she starts then stops.
She isn't sure she can ask him, but he lifts his brow and says, "if there's something you want, you'll have to tell me."
She hesitates before stumbling out, "I read something…that I…I mean, if you don't mind?"
"Tell me," he says simply, voice firm.
"I want you to be in control of me, in control for me," she admits.
"That right?" He asks. "This having something to do with the book you hid in the cushions of the chair?"
"Ah," she finds herself looking away, but he catches her chin and tilts her back to face him.
"I have no problem doing that for you," he tells her, "but we'll do it safely and you'll ask me properly. Now, I want you to ask: please, will you take me apart, Tommy?"
She swallows slowly before she looks him in the eye and asks, "please, will you take me apart, Tommy?"
"There's a good girl," he tells her and presses a soft kiss on her lips.
Then he gets off her to go to her vanity and grab a ribbon before returning. He wraps the ribbon into a small loop then he has her hold both ends with her hands and puts her hands above her head. "If you wave the ribbon, I stop. If you let go of the ribbon, I stop. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Tommy," she answers.
"I'm going to cut off your air," he tells her. "Just for a moment. Just long enough that when I let go, you're going to feel so good you'll think you're high. And while I do this you're going to keep your hands where I put them. You hear me?"
She nods but he tsks, "use your words."
"Yes, Tommy," She pants.
"Yes, Tommy, what?" He insists.
"You're going to cut off me air," Wren licks her lips, "and I'm going to keep me hands where you put them."
"Aye, there's a good girl," he kisses her softly again as he moves back over her.
He pins her with a hand on her throat, while he leans back in to slant his moth over hers fucking his tongue into her mouth and stealing her breath. He puts just enough pressure on her neck to make breathing difficult but not truly cutting off her air. Then he releases the pressure for a moment before doing it again and again.
All the while he never let's up on her mouth. He's a man starved, and he intends to have his fill. She's completely dazed by the time he moves his mouth to her neck.
He gets his knees under him, and pulls her thighs around him, before he bends over her again.
"How are you doing, sweetheart?" He brushes the hair off her sweaty forehead.
She blinks up at him and smiles.
"You want to let go of the ribbon?" he checks with her.
"No, Tommy," she answers and makes sure her grip is firm.
"Alright," he murmurs.
He cups both hands around her throat and starts again, this time slowly increasing the pressure as he builds his rhythm. In between holds he lets go enough to drag his hands down the front of her. He plays with her breasts, teases patterns over her ribs and belly, and cards his fingers through the curls at the apex of her thighs. As his holds get longer his touch drags longer, and he begins dipping his fingers into her slit and rubbing circles round her clit. Then he starts holding for shorter and shorter periods but intensifies his play. He's outright fingering her now, her hips hitching in his grasp while he curls his fingers insider her and taps her clit with his thumb.
She feels like a live wire, every nerve sparking and alight, the pleasure building like a pressure wave.
"It's good," she rasps. "So, so good. Tommy, Tommy, Tommy. Tommy, please."
"There you are, sweetheart," he growls. "So good for me, you're doing so good. I have you. I have you. Let go, eh? Just let it go."
A mantra of begging pleas and husky praise. Then she lights up, the pleasure swallowing her whole as she cries out.
She comes back to herself slowly. She feels him gently and steadily petting her with one hand while he keeps pressure between her legs with the other. Slowly he eases off and rubs his hands up her arms. He eases the ribbon out of her grasp and brings her arms back down. Then he curls up with her and pulls a blanket over them.
"You good, eh?" He whispers as he holds her.
She nods before she manages to find her words, "thank you."