WEEK 73: What’s up with the feathers?

Prompted by: Jeri T. Ryan

The crazy author says: Trace made me do it. He can be very persuasive…

WIRES & WOBBLES

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Part Nine

Part Ten

Part Eleven

Part Twelve

Part Thirteen

Part Fourteen

Part Fifteen

Part Sixteen

I head straight for the bathroom.

He’s right on my ass.

Literally.

His cock is right on my ass when Trace bends me over the counter. “Fuck, I’ve missed you.”

I’m naked. I can’t remember what happened to my robe. Swatting blindly for the sink, I frown. I can’t remember how to operate the damn thing. I can’t remember shit.

Righty-tighty. Lefty-loosey.

Nope, doesn’t work. I try and fail again. My brain is starting to scramble.

He thrusts his hips, drilling me into the ledge. “What the hell are you doing?”

I’m having difficulty speaking, “Your hand.”

Another thrust. “You’re doing my hand?”

“It’s hurt.”

Cursing, he turns on the faucet, reaches under the running water for half a second, and turns off the faucet. Then gives me a cold, wet spank and spins me around. “Satisfied?”

I swallow hard. I’m about to make a mistake, “No.”

Blonde brows furrow and I let out a yelp as I’m suddenly thrown over his shoulder. When he tosses me onto the bed a moment later and climbs on top, there’s a confused expression on his face. “What’s up with the feathers?”

We’re surrounded by them. Looks like a family of ducks exploded from the ceiling. White, fluffy feathers are littered everywhere.

I have a perfectly good explanation, “Pillow fight with some random guy.”

He grins a ridiculous grin. “Liar.”

I grab the nearest pillow and swing it at his gorgeous head. “I don’t lie, random guy.”

His ridiculous grin doubles in size. “Sometimes you do.”

“Never,” I say, taking a few more swings.

He doesn’t even attempt to defend himself. He does stop grinning though. “You really won’t marry me?”

I abandon my weapon and wrap my arms around his neck.

“Really, Gia?”

Smiling, I pull him in for a kiss.

While he doesn’t resist, Trace totally refuses to participate.

I can be very persistent.

He can be very stubborn. With his mouth on mine, he murmurs, “Really?”

Oh, fuck it. “Of course, I will.”

Finally, he kisses me back.

It’s all I need.