You Can't Keep a Good Man Down

It had been four weeks since Patrick had been released from The London. At home, with Shelagh and the children, he began the healing process. Although his arm was still encased firmly in plaster, his head had fared better, and the bandage had been removed and he had been cleared of concussion. It was fortunate for Patrick that he had been unconscious for most of the ordeal on the train. He had little memory of the details and so far, no nightmares.

"The worst part of all of this is her constant fussing," Patrick mused to himself, smiling. He really didn't mind the extra time he could now spend with Shelagh, but she could be bossy when in her element.

As if on cue, he heard Shelagh downstairs call up to him. "The children are all off to school and I will be up in two ticks to see to that sponge bath."

Patrick groaned and rubbed his forehead with his free hand. He didn't dare leave the bed without Shelagh's approval, even though there was nothing wrong with his legs. Living in his pajamas was getting tedious

He called back down to her, "Shelagh, it's already past nine and I think I should try the shower today. We can wrap the cast with cellophane…"

Silence.

After a few minutes, he heard Shelagh's light step on the stairs.

"Patrick Turner, you are not going to risk getting that cast wet," she scolded.

She looked quite lovely, even with the severe I-mean-business look on her face. Her honey-colored hair was down around her shoulders, and she wore a light housecoat over her yellow, nylon nighty that fell just above her knees. Her tiny feet looked almost comical in matching yellow, fluffy slippers.

"You know," Patrick began, "I really am feeling much better today. The sponge bath is not necessary," he protested.

Hands on her hips, Shelagh cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Is that your professional opinion, Doctor? Because my professional opinion tells me that you are not ready to stand in a shower and chance getting that cast wet," she repeated

Patrick couldn't help but smile at her adoringly. Looking at her, he felt the fullness of his life, and at the core of that was a feeling of love for this woman that was so intense that he teared up for a moment.

"Come here, my love," Patrick said as she came near the bed. He used his good arm to pull her onto the bed next to him. "Have I told you how much I appreciate and adore you?" he whispered into her ear.

Shelagh grinned, playfully slapping away the hand that was circled around her waist.

"That will be enough of that," she scolded, pulling down the nighty that had ridden up when she had been pulled down on the bed beside him. "I am going to go fetch the tub and sponge. Undress, please." She was all no-nonsense and efficiency.

Before Shelagh had rearranged her nighty into its proper position, Patrick had caught a glimpse of her smooth, slim thighs and felt a corresponding tug in his groin.

"Well, that's reassuring," he thought to himself. At least that part of his anatomy didn't seem to be any worse for wear.

Shelagh had left the room briefly and returned with a small tub of warm water, a sponge, and a towel which she placed on top of the dresser. Patrick began to unbutton his pajama top.

Busy with her preparations, she was unaware that Patrick was watching her intently. She had removed her housecoat so the sleaves wouldn't get wet and was now only clad in the sleeveless nighty. She dropped the sponge and leaned over to pick it up. Patrick was treated to a quick glimpse of her fine, round bottom encased in white satin and peeking out from just beneath the hem of the nighty. The tugging sensation increased.

"Now, I will need you to move off the bed so I can put the towel down," Shelagh began, turning around with the towel in her hands.

Patrick had dutifully disrobed.

"Oh, Patrick…" Shelagh's eyes went wide with surprise.

Laying on the bed propped up on pillows, and completely naked as instructed, Patrick's arousal was evident.

"I told you I was feeling better," he managed with a sheepish grin.

"Well, I can certainly observe THAT with my own two eyes," Shelagh finally responded. She remained rooted to the spot as she calculated her next move.

Patrick saved her the trouble by patting the bed next to him. "Seems a shame to waste it. We're alone in the house, you know."

"But is it safe… for your blood pressure? You did have a rather nasty head injury," Shelagh questioned, playing the devil's advocate. If she were being honest with herself, she would have to admit that she really missed having sexual relations which, obviously, had been put on hold since the accident.

Patrick could tell that he had the advantage and all she would need would be a small bit of coaxing and reassurance.

"You know as well as I do that my blood pressure is fine. All I want now is to make love to my beautiful wife. I promise I will let you do all of the hard work," he added, winking mischievously.

After a moment's hesitation, Shelagh's expression relaxed. "Oh… why not?" she gave in with a giggle. Her indecision behind her, she shimmied out of her white, satin drawers, tossed her glasses onto the nightstand, and then promptly climbed up on the bed and moved to straddle Patrick.

Delighted that his wife had acquiesced despite her worry, Patrick used his free hand to move her into place above what was now a very stiff erection. "I apologize if my foreplay is not what it should be," he warned her, his good hand moving up her thigh to cup her bottom. He squeezed gently and was rewarded with a murmur of approval by Shelagh.

"I think we can manage," Shelagh answered as Patrick continued to squeeze and stroke her thighs, her bottom. She felt was beginning to feel the warm, liquid agitation that only his touch could elicit.

"Do not forget my breasts," Shelagh remonstrated, rolling her r's thickly as she was want to do when excited.

"I most certainly won't," Patrick promised, moving his hand beneath her nighty to find the soft mound. He caressed and teased her with his fingertips until her nipple hardened and she moaned softly in encouragement.

Shelagh squirmed, her hand reaching between them to take hold of his erection. "I need you inside of me," she panted, trying to guide him in.

Patrick took her hand, chiding her, "Patience. I'm not done yet."

After removing her hand, Patrick slipped his own between her thighs, two fingers finding and gently stroking her vulva, her clitoris, finding her well lubricated. "Well," he said huskily, "you are ready."

Shelagh was unable to respond to that astute observation. His stroking had rendered her incapable of speech. Instead, she was biting her lip trying not to cry out.

"There is no one here but ourselves. I want to hear you," Patrick demanded, his caresses becoming more intense. His erect penis was throbbing by now. However, he was completely enthralled by watching Shelagh's face contort as she approached the precipice.

He remembered the first time he had brought her to orgasm. It was the morning after their wedding night, after the consummation which naturally was accompanied by some discomfort to his virgin bride. But in the bright morning light of their room at the inn, he had kissed her awake, and then moved down below the covers, between her thighs, to continue kissing and caressing her until she was sobbing with pleasure. So very gently, he had moved two fingers inside of her, stroking softly. Her orgasm came like a tidal wave, punctuated by breathless moaning rising to a crescendo. That morning was her sexual awakening, and she had been awake ever since.

Patrick was stirred from his reverie as Shelagh suddenly clutched his erection and mounted him.

"Oh, Patrick, I cannot wait any longer," Shelagh panted huskily, wriggling until he was completely enveloped in her. She began moving at once, a woman possessed.

Patrick grimaced with pleasure. After a long, dreary month of recovery, this was the best sensation he had had in a long time. He gripped her bottom with all the strength of his good hand and tried to keep himself from slipping out as she rocked back and forth in complete and erratic abandon, trying to catch and corner the climax that she had been seconds away from earlier.

"Slow down, Shelagh," Patrick soothed, gripping her bottom harder to still her. "We have all the time in the world."

"I… I can't…" She moaned, but slowed down, nevertheless.

Patrick took control, raising his hips in counterpoint to her movements against him. "Let me pleasure you."

Shelagh did as she was told and stilled her movements. Patrick continued to thrust up into her slowly, with precision. His right hand still clutched her bottom, squeezing and tugging, creating sensation upon sensation.

Patrick watched Shelagh's face. Her eyes were half closed, the long lashes hiding them from view. Her lips were parted, and her breathing was shallow. She was so incredibly beautiful.

Finally, a long moan escaped her, followed by another, and another. Patrick increased his tempo, moving smoothly in time to his wife's vocalizations.

"That's my girl, almost there," he encouraged her, gritting his teeth in an effort not to climax himself.

Shelagh had gone completely still, overwhelmed by the sensations building inside of her, letting Patrick take complete control.

"Patrick! Oh god, Patrick!" Shelagh cried out as the first wave of her climax rolled through her. It spread out from her thighs and down to the tips of her toes.

Patrick didn't let up, thrusting until Shelagh's cries of pleasure had quieted and she had collapsed onto his chest, her skin rosy pink with sated arousal.

After several seconds, when she could speak again, Shelagh simply said, "That was quite… enjoyable."

Patrick twined his fingers in her hair. "You're welcome."

Shifting on him, Shelagh realized there was unfinished business that needed attending to. She raised herself back on her knees, clenched tightly around his still-turgid penis, and began to rock in earnest, controlling her movements and her pace as he had done earlier.

"Ah, Shelagh," Patrick breathed out her name, head thrown back in anticipation of his own release.

Shelagh's body was holding and stroking him like a warm, tight glove, and now that he was no longer trying to hold off his own climax, it only took a minute or two for Patrick to begin to breath heavily, then grunt with pleasure as he spent himself inside of her.

Collapsing on him once more, Shelagh treated him to the wicked little giggle she reserved for these intimate moments. He loved the sound of her laughter.

"Oh, my lovely bride!" Patrick beamed at her. "I doubt anyone has as much fun as we do. And THAT is with a broken arm."

Eyes dancing, Shelagh disconnected from him reluctantly. "I suppose we will both be needing that sponge bath now…"