Episode 139: Morning Stories (Meldrick)

There were few things more satisfying than a woman who wanted you. Food had never given him joy, not comparable to this. In the early days, Aadya had wanted him like this, but even then her desire was not as consuming as Giana’s.

Giana was intense when it came to romance, which was something he hadn’t expected.

Adjusting to her habits, her attachment to him, her desire for frequent affection, was something he had both struggled with and enjoyed with a deep satisfaction. He loved that every kiss and touch sent shivers down her body.

He wanted her to want him now, then to face an entire day at the festival working, until they could fall together again tonight. He turned and kissed her, “Ready for another day?”

“Not just yet,” she said. She kissed him and he moved toward her. He met air, instead of the heat of her body, as she moved away from him.

“Do you ever have regrets?” she asked.

He tried not to feel frustrated, by the absence of her and the insecurity.

He focused. “Ever? Yes…”

For a moment, he realized she meant only about herself, and that any sense of humor was misplaced in this conversation. He had been about to shower her with just how much he didn’t regret her. Instead she had recoiled.

“Do you? About the elixir – or anything else?” A small smile crept across her lips before she pursed them, no doubt biting her tongue. “It was rather rushed.”

So she teased.

If it were Aadya, the teasing would be covering up something deeper and darker lurking and waiting to torment him until she found herself able to find her words.

Giana teased to tease.

“Alright,” he said with a shrug. He pulled more away from her. “Giana, next week we will undo whatever binds remain between us.”

She laughed and fell toward him, “Never.”

Her arms held him as hers, and he leaned into her. He could feel her breasts, heavy against his arm, unencumbered by clothing.

“Then,” he replied. “More binds?”

He turned to face her body, chest to chest.

“What do you have in mind?” she asked. Her eyes glowed with curiosity.

He ran his hand down her cheek. “On your back, you gorgeous tease.”

After, he left her in the bed. He moved to the kitchen, a few feet away, to get water. “Now are you ready?”

“Now I never want to go,” she replied.

“I could leave you here,” he teased.

“People might wonder what you’ve done to me,” she said from across the room.

“Does that bother you?” he asked.

She needed a bigger apartment. They were married now and she was not using tea. They needed room to grow.

And a window. She needed a window more than she needed a single additional touch from him.

“Only if they decide you’re prone to terrible things.”

He laughed, then began to dress where she could see him. “I think if you show up by lunch I’ll be fine.”

She pulled against her ties to watch him, and he smiled back. He would never tire of the way she looked at him, the way she made his alabaster skin and reddish blue eyes and white straight hair seem attractive.

He had been raised to believe it was, but he had fallen in love with color. Aadya’s skin was the first, but it had only been the beginning.

Giana, in all that she was, drove him wild with desire. Not just for the physical parts, but now that he was satiated he remembered he loved conversation too.

“Go, then.” she said. She fell against the pillow, if two inches could be described as falling. “I think I’ll nap.”

He was dressed, and so he reached for the nob. He would walk down the hall and double back after a few minutes. He could never leave her there, it would be too tempting to come back and be with her.

He would never get anything done until she was busy.

He pulled on the door, and it opened to a wall of books. “Hm.”

Acheron had never pulled a prank before, but he was one of the few that loved books enough to stack them so neatly.

“You can’t bear to leave?” Giana asked. She raised herself to see, but she couldn’t move enough to view the book wall.

“Apparently not,” he replied. He scanned the pile, and at the floor he found a note. He picked it up. Inside a single fold, it read:

Enjoy the books – Daisy.

We still love you – Ach.

Mel laughed as he shut the door. “We’re trapped, Love.”

The day was getting better. He had ample excuse to stay inside with Giana. If he used the passages, it would only alarm any guests that knew were he was.

He doubted any guests knew which room he was staying in, but it was a worthy excuse for an unworthy desire.

He set the note on the nightstand, then he began kissing her hip. He kissed his way to her lips, and wished he had never gotten dressed.

“What do you mean, trapped?”

He reached for the nightstand and let her read the note from his hands.

She relaxed as soon as she finished it.

“So, you see,” he teased. “I am as much a prisoner as you.”

He stood again, because he had time to take her again and again, to push her toward her own release.

“May I serve you breakfast?” he asked.

“It seems you will have to.”

This was bliss. She would play with him, love him, entice him, and talk with him. She was everything, and she was his wife.

He untied her wrists first, so she could sit up. He wanted to see her eyes and her beautiful face as he made her breakfast. “What would you like to do this morning?” he asked.

“Explore the books, if we can reach them. I wonder what compelled them. And if not…” she glanced at her ankles. “What would you like to do?”

A balance of intellect and physical attention would satisfy him.

Sparks danced across his fingers, and he ran a line of heat around one of her breasts and down her body. He pulled it away, before he reached anything of importance. “Torture you thoroughly.”

He kissed her lightly, then fluffed pillows for her so she could sit without strain.

“Do you enjoy being tortured too, or only torturing?” she asked.

He paused.

“I could enjoy it,” he replied.

Conversation was beginning to dominate his mind. Could and wanted to blurred in an uncertain way, but he didn’t feel a need to withdraw. He wanted to talk to her about his past. Even now, with years of distance and his own daughter and grandchild/child within the palace walls, he had not spoken of it.

“We will have to see, then,” she replied.

He knew she was flirting, but he had no response. He moved to the kitchen and pulled two eggs off the counter and a pan from the cupboard. He would serve her breakfast, and he would talk to her.

He needed this.

He needed her.

The egg shell cracked on the edge of the pan and he let the insides fall. The other followed, and listened to their sizzling as he cut some melon to share. Then, he looked to her and said, “Gi, there’s something I haven’t shared before.”

She met his gaze.

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