Chapter 7: Attempts at Discretion

The next day is Sunday. Considering the intimacy that passed between me and Peeta the night before, the rational side of me should take full advantage of the opportunity that is ordinarily my day off. By the time I awaken in my sister's house the morning after he and I made love, however, the terror I felt at the knowledge that he fucked me and I liked it has given way to euphoria.

I'm still sore, between my legs and in the crack between my pretty little ass cheeks, but that hardly matters. I feel an almost gravitational pull to see him again. To see Enola again. For however much I have tried to deny it, this beautiful man and his equally beautiful daughter have become my family too.

I am so… giddy, in fact, that I seem to forget what day it is entirely. I shower hurriedly until I judge that I no longer smell like flour and sex before heading out. If Prim notices how I am hurrying out the door without my bow for once and indeed sporting my blue Reaping dress instead of our father's hunting jacket, she doesn't let on. She instead minds the baby and lets my twitterpated, empty-headed aura do all the matchmaking for her.

I arrive at the back loading dock and knock, a beaming smile on my face. In the next moment, though, it falls when Enola is the one to answer the door. She is still in her pajamas.

"Katniss?" She wrinkles her nose adorably, clearly confused. "It's…. Sunday…"

Finally, this is the moment when all the muddled, insecure feelings I had on my walk of shame back last night return with a vengeance. It is now a struggle to even look Enola in the eye, knowing what I did to her father, and what he did to me, last night, just one floor below where we now stand. It suddenly dawns on me how ardently my lover and I went at it, and I blanche, as I fear if our lovemaking woke Enola up at any point, two stories above. We certainly didn't keep it down, Peeta and I; we were practically shouting at each other as he rode me, shagged me in the ass.

But then, Enola is suddenly hugging me around the waist, and I can 't think of any excuse to shrink away. I can only pat her head instead, smiling softly. "Oh, Snow's Roses, it doesn't matter! I'm just glad you're here! We can play!" Enola is babbling, elated.

"Katty…" Even just the breathy quality of his voice makes my body thrum in yearning delight, aching for his arms to hold me again. For his mouth to claim mine again. For his body to fuck me again….

I lift my head and my smile is the brightest I have ever known it to be. "Hello, Peeta." By the State, I hope I don't sound too sultry… If Enola picks up on it, on anything, I think I'll die of shame.

Everything about Peeta's countenance suggests tranquil normality. Of their own accord, my eyes scan for any sign that I had been with him last night; I'm secretly disappointed when I find none. In the haze of our union, I'm pretty sure I laid my own claim: love bites, for instance. Yet any sign that I had him has been well-concealed. He is wearing a white undershirt that does nothing to downplay his taut chest muscles.

No, the only place that I can find any lingering evidence of our foreplay is in his eyes. They are still majestically blue, but there is a darker hue to them… I feel myself flush pink as Enola turns about in my arms, her little body crackling with excitement.

"Papa, can Katniss come up and play in my room? Please?" she begs.

Peeta tears his gaze away from me to grin down at her. I feel a stirring within me surge into a spasm of lust in the space between my legs, and I squirm.

"Take a shower and put on some clean clothes, my little dandelion," he admonishes. "Then we shall see."

Enola nods, squeezes me again, and dashes up the stairs.

Now that I'm left alone with him, I feel butterflies in my stomach.

"Good morning," Peeta dips his head to me. His smile is positively smoldering and Snowdamn it does he know it. I smile back breathlessly.

"Good… good morning."

He gives a jerk of his head. "Come on in."

No, I absolutely should not come in, yet my feet carry me forward in a strange kind of waking sleepwalk. We proceed through the narrow rear hallway. Past the basement door where he guided me down so we could perform such dirty, dirty acts upon each other.

We are now behind the counter, Peeta turning back, his gaze sweeping over me. My skin blooms pink. I want to glower at him, but I find it impossible.

"Like what you see? It's nothing you haven't seen before."

Peeta's eyes enlarge slightly, probably in surprise at how I would be the first to address the elephant in the… Bakery, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips. "It's nothing I haven't had before…" He just about whispers it, and the less prudent side of me wants to ju-jitsu flip him onto this counter and mount him right there. But the windows are open out onto a public, if also quiet, street. Nearly all Merchant businesses are closed on Sunday, considered a day of rest.

I fold my arms prissily, only realizing too late how they push my boobs out invitingly underneath my blue dress. "Peeta, please be serious for once in your life…"

"I am being serious. This is me being serious," though his boyish smile gives him away. I roll my eyes, my own grin quirking at my lips. I shiver as he steps closer. "And I'm also being honest when I say that it is very, very hard to watch you act all motherly and sexy with my child and not be able to kiss you."

My grey eyes bulge, and I think I make an entirely unflattering noise. And then suddenly, I've launched myself at him, curling one hand roughly around his neck and I'm kissing him. Before I even know what I'm doing, I am kissing him, and he is kissing me back – very ardently.

"Hmmm…. Mmmmmm….." I moan, closing my eyes, weaving my fingers back into his hair. I don't even wait for him to touch me, for him to place his hands on my waist and on my ass or under my quivering thighs. I practically climb him like a tree, leap into his arms. Peeta hoists me the rest of the way, clearing a space on the counter with a sweep of his arms. Though half-closed eyelids, I see his thumb dart out and press a button in the wall, and all the shades on the front windows come down, plunging us into nearly complete darkness.

That same thumb now sweeps around to pinch and thrum my hardened nipple through my dress. As Peeta lays me down upon the counter, and I spread my legs open like a feast for him, I eagerly shove my boob into his palm.

"Hmmmm…. Yes, more, please," I rasp around his tongue.

I nestle him between my thighs, the buckles of my hunting boots pressing against his legs. I am burning with a passion long pent up and he meets me kiss for kiss, gives me access as I fumble with the ties of his apron.

"Peeta," his name on my breath against his lips stirs something huge and primal inside me.

His kisses move along my jaw, down my neck, my skin salty with a day's sweat. He runs his lips reverently over my shoulders. Blue straps fall out of his way, revealing my alabaster skin.

I pull his mouth back to mine hungrily, maneuvering so one of his legs is between mine and I rub up against his thigh, trying to gain friction. Already, I can feel he is painfully hard in his desire for me. Surprisingly, this makes me grin eagerly, as I pop the button on his pants.

But Peeta seems to want to take his time. He lays me out on the worktable, worshipping every part of my body he can reach with soft kisses. It appears he wants to be gentle, tender, explore me; wants me to feel his kisses not just on my skin but in my soul. Let me feel his love in every pore with each kiss.

Large hands trace tenderly down the top of my spine, feathery kisses along my collar bone, his lips seal promises on the soft flesh of each wrist…but I don't want to be worshipped. I want to be fucked. A fire is burning in me that I need him to put out, and I need him to put it out now. My heels are at his back and they dig in sharply.

"Peeta, hurry up," I urge, a frustrated frown between my eyebrows.

He tries to kiss it away but I am already slipping my hand into his pants.

"Come on," I urge, sucking on his neck, stroking his erection, cupping him in my fist.

He stills my hand with his own, and I frown harder. Why the hell is he fighting this?

"Kat…Katniss, slow down," he begs, stuttering to regain control as I try to stroke him again.

He is trying to figure out how to slow me down, relax my frantic mood, when I lift my legs so my dress rides up around my waist, and his focus is drawn to the new areas revealed for his attention. His hand slides reverently along my smooth, muscular calf, holding just above my knee, his mouth following with kisses ever so softly.

I get agitated again, groaning in frustration, unbuttoning my bodice and pushing the top of my dress down to expose small pert breasts, my nipples already hard. I want him to taste them.

"Peeta," I draw his face to my chest, guiding his mouth to me, "I need..."

"Katniss, I…" he turns his head away like it's the hardest thing he's ever had to do, kissing my ribcage instead, over my heart.

He looks up at me earnestly,

"I want to do this right…I want you to feel…" He is so nervous, I can hear it in his voice.

Damn it all.

Growling in frustration, I yank his face down into my cleavage and seal his lips to my nipple. Peeta lets out a choked squeak along my boob, but then his lips and tongue slather my breast. When he takes my nipple between his teeth and begins to suck, I let out a gasp, lifting, pushing my hips against his as I arch my back, nearly levitating off the counter.

"I want you to taste them like you did last night, Snowdamn it!" I hiss along his cheek, my voice strangely hoarse. Purposefully, I take both of his hands and lead them to me – one palm to cup and attend my right breast, his other hand to plunge beneath my underwear and grope my damp sex. "I want you…. to touch me!"

Peeta moans around my nipple, kissing, licking his way in between my glistening cleavage and then working his way up my collarbone, before his lips capture mine in another, bruising kiss.

"Hmmmmm….. Mmmmmm….." I begin to buck my hips, rutting helplessly along his pelvis and thighs, needing the friction of our undulating bodies like I need air to breathe. "P-Peeta….. Please…..!"

"Please what, Katty girl?" Peeta grunts, his voice husky, and I whimper. Seizing his glutes in my fists so that my nails dig into his skin, I hump him frantically.

"Please…. please fuck me. I want you to fuck me!"

At the sound of my begging for him, Peeta finally stops acting like a perfect gentleman.

He takes me with one, fierce plunge and I cry out in pain, but also in triumph.

"Did…. hmmm…. did I hurt you?" Peeta gasps between our frantic kisses.

"N-no…." I croak. "Mother taught us how the first few times always hurt for women. Just… just go slow for now…"

We begin to bounce against each other, my giggles turning into gasps and breathy groans as Peeta starts to thrust into me faster and faster.

"Huhhhh….. Uhhhhh….. Ermmmmmm… Mmmmmhmmmmmm…" I kiss him deeply, closing my eyes as I rock against him, an extreme, tingling pleasure replacing my initial discomfort. " That's it - Harder…. Harder….! HARDER!" I'm wailing now. "Peeta, fuck me harder!"

Peeta grunts into my shoulder, the soft curve of my neck, and bears down. I choke on the air, my hands have moved up to splay and claw around his rippling shoulder muscles.

"Make love to me! Finish me now, or I'll scream! I mean it, I'll scream, I will! I'll…. Ohhhh…. Ohhhhhh my goodness….. Ohhhh Snow's Roses, I…. I….I'm gonna cum…. I…. Ahhhhhh….. AHHHHHH….. AHHHHHHHHH!"

My core is overloading. A wave is cresting there, and I can't even begin to turn back the tide.

Peeta's face is still buried in my neck, suckling on my pulse point. Kissing my lips deeply once again so that I can only sigh around his tongue, he hisses along the seam:

"I love you….."

Clamping my thigh muscles tight around him, melting into his kiss, I scream. "MMMMMM-HMMMMMMMM!" I squeal and scream and scream and squeal as my body writhes with my orgasm. I'm quite impressed that he has made me cum every single time.

Peeta jerks against me several more times, before he finally succumbs, orgasming inside me and then finishing his spurting along my spread, quivering legs. My thighs, my body are singing. And then I'm singing, dazed with amazement as the wave crashes over me. My arms loop about his neck, my fingernails digging into the skin of his rippling shoulder blades:

"Ah, sweet mystery of life, at last I've found you! Oh, at last I know the secret of it all!..."

We lie still for a moment. Only when he begins to move about inside me once more, making himself hard again for me, do I realize and I frantically push against him.

"E….Enola…." I wheeze softly, imploring with my sweetheart to see reason. We just did the dirty deed – again – with his daughter now merely one floor removed upstairs.

"Shower's still running," Peeta grunts into the sweaty curve of my neck.

"Hmm," I purr, pretending to think it over. "And do you think the water masked us shagging like rabbits?!"

That snaps him out of it – the thought that his little girl's innocent young ears might have been traumatized. He rolls off me gentlemanly, and even takes me by my waist to lift me down from the counter. I am quick to twist away from him, eyes sad yet practical.

"Peeta…. we mustn't…. not here… we can't keep doing this… I already feel like I've betrayed Enola's trust; if she were to find out – don't you dare say she won't!" I lift a chiding finger as Peeta opens his mouth to speak. He quickly snaps it shut. I distract myself from falling under the spell of his tousled, beautiful face by smoothing down my blue skirts. I take a deep, cleansing breath.

"We can't make love when Enola is in the house," I keep my voice soft, nearly at a whisper.

Peeta immediately sends me a wolfish grin, and damn him, now I'm wet again. "What about when she's at school?"

"You'll be at work."

"I'll find ways to take time off," he counters smoothly.

I inhale through my nose. "OK," I finally concede. He beams, and starts to swoop down as if to peck me on the lips, but my hand stops him. "On one condition: not in the Bakery. We'll have to find somewhere else until we… we want to tell Enola."

"Tell me what?"

Peeta almost imperceptibly leans away from me and I spin around to find Enola clopping down the last few stairs, hair wet and sporting a clean sundress. "Nothing, precious, your father and I were just discussing our… our contract." I lift my eyes to Peeta pointedly, silently communicating to him with no words.

"That's right! And we have some news: Katniss has agreed to serve as our housekeeper, for an increase in wages. She'll be staying here later most nights, past your bath and bedtime. And perhaps all the earlier on a morning or two so she'll be there when you wake up."

I almost kiss him in gratitude. Instead, I secretly smirk, my back still to my charge. I know Peeta is only granting me more duties so he can see more of me. But at this point, with his semen still drying on my legs, I am on too much of a high to care.

At any rate, Enola is clearly thrilled. "Yay!" She nearly tackles me from behind, trying to climb up my spine piggyback. "Let's do something!" she cries, decisive, spontaneous. "Yeah, let's do something! What should we do? It's a beautiful day!"

"Indeed it is," and Peeta flicks the hidden switch, retracting all the windowblinds from the front panes. "But I think… Katniss should decide."

I turn fuchsia under his stare, but now that he puts me on the spot, I realize I have one idea. "I'd like to show you all the Meadow!"

"Well, then the Meadow it is!" Peeta concurs as Enola cheers. "And I'll do you lovely ladies one better: how about a picnic?"

"Yay, a picnic! A picnic!" Enola crows.

"Right, then! I'll get the basket!"

"I'll see to the icebox! Uncle Rye left some extra pastries down there to preserve!" Enola vanishes down the basement steps. I frown as both Mellarks take off in different directions, leaving me in the lurch.

"What should I do?"

A beat, and then Peeta suddenly reappears, still sans basket. In answer, he takes me by my waist, pulls me close and kisses me soundly on the mouth. I sink into it, against my better judgment and we break apart sharply.

"Just stand there and look pretty. We'll treat you like a queen, Katty girl – we promise!" And he's off like a shot again. I can only laugh, shaking my head and smiling in happy shock.

It isn't even mid-morning by the time I find myself with my charge and my…. my secret lover amidst the tall, tall grasses of one of my favorite places beyond the fence.

Enola plays in the Meadow, frolicking as she tries to catch butterflies in her hands. Under the shade of one of the few trees that grows here, Peeta and I watch her shift unknowingly nearer and nearer to the treeline.

"Enola, stay close where we can see you!" Peeta redirects gently.

"She'll be fine," I coo, daring to lay a comforting hand on his knee.

His blue orbs lock on my grey ones, and we both freeze. I start to retract my hand, but Peeta grabs for it, kissing it.

"Peeta…."

"Turn around," he croons.

I lift one eyebrow skeptically. "Why?" I ask, my voice wary.

"You trust me, don't you?"

I don't have to think about it. "Of course."

His easy grin makes my stomach do flip-flops. "Then don't stop now."

Turning away from him, tucking my legs under my skirts, I shudder as I feel him undo the ties that keep my single braid running down my back. I feel my chestnut curls cascade down my back in waves, like a waterfall before Peeta's strong yet surprisingly gentle hands pick up the strands. He begins to mold them in his own artistic vision.

"What are you doing?" I ask, a teasing giggle to my voice.

"Relax. Just don't berate me when I'm done, OK?"

A few beats of silence before I ask, half in wonder: "How do you even know how to do this?"

"Trust me, when you're the father of a 10-year-old girl, you either pick it up, or may Snow have mercy on your soul." I throw back my head and laugh musically. All the while, I keep a sharp watch on Enola out of the corner of my eye. She's some yards off, though not in any danger of going past the treeline.

"There." I turn back to him, lifting a hand and letting my fingers dance on the pattern he's created. He's managed to lift my hair up into plaits.

"Thank you," I murmur. I sense him lean in to kiss me, and I only shy away in the nick of time.

"Wait," my eyes dart about. "Not here."

"Yes, here!" Peeta dives in and starts kissing my neck; it takes all my fortitude to gently nudge him off me.

"E….Enola…."

Peeta finally acquiesces, though we do fall victim to just gazing at each other for a long moment.

"What?"

Peeta rubs the seam of his lips together in thought. "Nothing. It's just that… I wish I could freeze this moment – right now – and live in it forever."

And though we both know he can't possibly say such things, I nonetheless breathe out, "OK."

He smirks, flirtatious. "Then you'll allow it?"

I gulp, my throat dry. "I'll allow it."

I check to make sure Enola's back is turn and once I see it is, Peeta and I both lean in as one for a chaste kiss. We don't deepen it, or hold it for very long, and his daughter doesn't see.

Little do we know that someone else does….