Twelve Gates Ch. 12

He turned and stared out the windshield at the dark road ahead. A few more minutes passed in silence.

"There are a few things I need to do in Calgary - things I've been putting off for a while. I'll hop a flight tomorrow. That should give you the time you need."

He was leaving? The thought filled her with dread. She had thought to spend a night or two with Grandmother to do some reflection - she hadn't envisioned him leaving the province altogether. Had she gone too far? Been too honest?

"How...how long will you be gone?"

"A week. Maybe ten days."

A long time. A dangerously long time. But it was too late to backpedal now. He was giving her what she asked for.

"Okay. Thank you."

"Did you still want to spend the night at our apartment? I could drop you off at Grandma's place on the way back."

Was he eager to be rid of her, or was he trying to give her the space she said she needed?

"She'd be asleep."

He waited a few minutes more but she was silent. He put the car in gear and pulled back onto the highway.

***

The drive home had been silent and uncomfortable. The elevator ride to the eighth floor had been silent and uncomfortable. The tension was unbearable as they stepped into the apartment.

It would have been awkward to walk around naked after all the negative emotion in the car, so she kept her clothes on and started to wash the dishes. She needed to stay busy, to have something to occupy her thoughts besides him.

She couldn't imagine how she'd spend ten days without him. If it was ten days. Maybe he'd decide it wasn't worth coming back? No - he'd have to come back, for the coffee shop if nothing else. But he might have changed his mind by then. About her, about them. He'd ask her to move out...

She shook her head to clear it; the tears were too close. He wouldn't walk away just because of a little disagreement - he was too stable, too steady. And wasn't it mostly his fault to begin with? Still, she'd never challenged him so openly before...

Then he was behind her, his body close.

She didn't turn around or look up from the sink.

She felt his hands on her hips. Warm hands. Welcome. She didn't step away from his grasp or tell him no, even when she felt his thumbs under the waistband of her yoga pants. Even when he slowly drew them down, leaving her in a skimpy green thong. She lifted each foot in turn and allowed him to remove the pants.

She didn't turn around. She was upset with him.

His hands gathered the bottom of her sweater and slowly pulled it up, baring her stomach, not stopping when he reached her midsection. She dropped the sponge in the sink and raised her arms, allowing him to pull the sweater over her head, then she resumed her scrubbing. She felt her nipples harden under her bra and the cool air on her bare legs caused a tingle between her thighs.

She kept her back to him.

She felt his hands on her shoulders, stroking, thumbs gently pressing the tense muscles on either side of her neck. Sending a shiver of pleasure down her back. Hot fingers caressed her nape, then trailed down her spine. Released the clasp on her bra. Pushed the straps off her shoulders. She dropped her arms and allowed the bra to slide to the floor. Her nipples were stiff and throbbing. Her sex felt heavy, swollen.

His hot hands slid around her midsection and then up, cupping the undersides of her breasts. Squeezing gently at first but then firmly, possessively. She gasped. Her eyes closed. Her hand still clutched the sponge but no longer pretended to wash.

His palms slid down, over her ribs, over her hips. He knelt behind her and his fingers caught on her thong, sliding it down and off. She was naked. Wet. His hot breath brushed the small of her back.

His lips touched her spine, then lower, the top of her cheeks. Her tattoo. She heard him inhale through his nose, scenting her skin and her arousal. His hands slowly stroked their way up her legs, then down again to her feet. She felt a gentle tap on the inside of her ankle. She widened her stance immediately.

Her mouth was open. Breathing rapidly.

She felt one hand slide up between her legs. Caressing the soft skin of her inner thighs, so very close to her aching sex. Teasing. Sliding down again to her knees, then returning.

She spread further for him, hoping the easy access would entice his fingers. His touch slid over her thighs. Unhurried. Heating her and making her pant. She bent her knees into a wider stance, hoping.

She moaned quietly as his fingertips stroked over her full pussy lips, up to her smooth mound and then back down, returning to her thighs. Making her wait and want.

She felt him rise to his feet. Heard the rustle of clothing.

His arms slid around her naked waist again, pulling her against his bare chest. His warm skin against her back. The bulge in his pants pressing against her spine. She reached behind her and struggled with his belt, the button on his pants, the zipper. His pants fell and he stepped out of them. His briefs followed.

Her hand wrapped around his cock, loving the heat and the firmness. She wanted to turn and kneel, wanted him in her mouth, but he wouldn't release her from his embrace. He held her from behind, stroking and squeezing her breasts, tweaking her nipples.

She was his again, as before.

Finally he stepped away, took her dripping hand in his and led her to the bathroom. Ran a hot shower. Scrubbed her back with a loofah. Washed her hair. Held her tight as they stood together under the soothing, steamy spray.

She escaped his arms and ran the soap over him, feeling his contours under her fingers. His neck and arms and chest and back. His legs and thighs. His lovely cock. She had to reach up to lather his hair, then pushed his head under the stream to rinse it. Stroked her hands over his now-slippery erection. Hugged him tight from behind, pressing her breasts into his solid back.

Then they were in bed, still damp, hands busy. Her swollen clit trapped gently between his teeth as his tongue lashed it. Her lips sliding down over his cock, eagerly taking him as deep as she could. His hands on her tits, making her nipples tingle and hurt and throb. Moaning and gasping and grunting. Begging. Shudders and spasms, licking and swallowing.

Then she lay on her side, her head on the pillow. He was behind, pulling her against him.

"Promise you're coming back, Master?" she asked as she stroked the back of his hand on her belly. The anger was gone. The fear was receding.

"I'm coming back, kitten. You get some thinking done."

"What if...I want to make changes?"

"We'll deal with it."

She smiled and cuddled into him. No false promises, just a resolution to see it through. She looked to the days ahead with a mix of trepidation and a cautious optimism.