Flight to Paradise Ch. 07

She watches the orchestrated chaos as he gracefully moves about the kitchen, obviously comfortable cooking. "You've done this before," she observes with a wry smile.

He grins at her. "Just because my dad helped invent zapper meals doesn't mean I have to eat them."

"Your dad invented the zapper?" She looks at him dubiously. "Bullshit," she finally says.

"No really," he says, pulling a pitcher of juice out of the refrigerator. "There was an entire team working on it of course, but dad was responsible for the packaging, the wrapping that regulates the energy that reaches the food so it all gets done at the same time." He pours three fingers of juice into a glass. "Try that and tell me if you like it. It's my own blend."

She takes a sip. "That's really good. What's it?"

"Three parts pineapple, two parts orange, and one-half part apple." She holds the glass out and Mac chuckles as he fills the glass this time, filling a second glass for himself. "I have something else for you to try." He turns away and drops four slices of bread into the toaster before opening the freezer and removing a quart jar of something blood red.

"What's that?"

"Strawberry preserves. Karen Bannerman, the doctor's wife, she makes this stuff and it's to die for. I buy her the strawberries and the sugar, she makes it, and I get a quart or two. She brought me some one time and I thought it was the best stuff I've ever tasted. I think she gets a kick out of me showing up with the berries and sugar every year, begging for more."

"Why is it in the freezer?"

"Because it gets soupy at room temperature. Don't wrinkle your nose until you try it," he scolds gently as the toast pops. He quickly butters the toast, cutting it on the diagonal, and then divides the omelet, potatoes and toast onto the two plates, holding one triangle in reserve. That piece he covers in the preserves and holds out for Kate.

She leans in and takes a bite, her eyes widening at the rich sweet flavor of the strawberries. "You're right! That's good!"

Mac pops the remainder of the toast into his mouth, picking up the two plates, walking to the table with her trailing behind carrying the drinks. "Have a seat. I forgot the forks," he says, setting the plates on the table, returning to the kitchen then coming back with utensils, cloth napkins, and the preserves.

She waits until he sits down then tries the omelet, nearly swooning at the flavor. If the omelet he fixed her at her house was good, this one is excellent, with much richer and more complex flavors. The potatoes, with their just a touch of spiciness, were even better.

"Mac! This is excellent. Where did you learn to cook like this?"

"The army," he deadpans without looking up, and then looks to see if she's buying it. She's not and he begins to chuckle. "Okay, not the army. Trial and error mostly. I just like to try different things and when I find something that works, I keep doing it. Oh, and real, fresh, ingredients help a lot. People have forgotten what fresh food tastes like."

"Next time I'm going to pay attention when you cook."

She didn't know what she's been missing by not cooking, until now. When he'd suggested dinner, what she had really wanted to do was fuck, but after the first taste, she's ravenous and eats with gusto, leaving only a few pieces of potato behind.

Meal over she helps him clean the kitchen. "I'm not sure what we'll do for breakfast in the morning," he says as he loads the dishwasher. "I hadn't expected guests when I left and the cupboard is a little bare."

"I know what we're doing for breakfast," she purrs, "And it won't require you to cook anything at all. We can go to the store after that for lunch supplies."

"Really? So, what do you have you planned for breakfast?" he asks, teasing her.

"The same thing I'm planning for dessert. Later. After I'm not so full."

The kitchen clean, they move to the couch overlooking the lake. He can feel his prosthetic leg beginning to drag, like it's tired, indicated the need for a recharge. If he doesn't walk too much it'll likely last out the evening, so he continues to sit, holding her nestled against him in companionable silence as they watch the lake.

She watches the sun slowly sinks over the lake, the glass darkening to keep the sun's brightness to a bearable level, marveling at the attention to detail in the house. Sitting with Mac, while overlooking the lake, fills her with a deep sense of satisfaction and peace, like this is where she belongs. As the sun slowly crawls behind the distant tree line, she can feel her eyes growing heavy... until with a start she snaps awake, the house completely dark except for a few accent lamps and the bright moonlit sky.

"Did I go to sleep?" she asks, surprised and disoriented by the sudden change in the lighting.

"Yes you did. For about two hours," he replies quietly.

"You've been here the entire time?" she asks, still struggling to fully wake up. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

"Because I couldn't think of anything I'd rather do than sit here and hold you."

She sits quietly for a long moment, enjoying his closeness as the veils of sleep slowly fall away. "You're a smooth bastard, I'll give you that," she says as she sits up, finally fully awake, and gazes into his eyes.

"What?" he asks with a half-smile.

"Jesus, I have to do everything," she says softly as she slowly moves in for a kiss.

He accepts the kiss, pulling her in, allowing the connection to flow between them. And flow it does as he gently pushes back on her, steering her down on the couch, kissing her, holding her, as he takes her tongue and lips, feeling himself hardening in the process.

She allows him to ride her down to the couch without protest or resistance, holding onto the kiss until he breaks it to slowly explore her neck. She can feel her passions flare to life, a sudden overwhelming need to feel his skin against her own, but not here. In his bedroom, on that monster of a bed, with the moonlit lake in the background, but his kisses feel so fucking good, she can't bring herself to push him away just yet.

He continues his exploration of her neck, but as he tries to adjust his position, pushing with his right foot against the floor, his leg feels lazy and unresponsive. Fuck! Why now!

"Kate. Kate!" he gasps, trying to get control of himself. "Not here. Not like this." He raises up, pulling out of her arms before standing and offering her his hand.

She looks at his offered hand and smiles in the gloom. "Yes... Not here. Your bedroom."

She takes the hand and he pulls her to her feet. As he leads her by the hand down the hall she notices he's limping, like his right leg hurts.

"Are you okay?" He was fine when they sat down on the couch. Maybe he just has a charlie-horse from not moving while I slept.

"I'm fine. Just my leg is weak. It'll be fine in the morning after a charge."

She thinks that's an odd way of putting things, but today has been full of strange phrases. "Okay. I have something I want to show you. I'll be there in a moment," she says, breaking off and stepping into her room.

She pulls out the raciest thing she has, a black negligee that drew its allure from what it didn't show. This is her favorite naughty nightie, and she's used it with devastating effect in the past. She quickly strips then slips the gown on, looking forward to using it on him. Yes, this is much better than where they were going on the couch, giving her time to plan and to get herself ready.

He limps into his bathroom and quickly uses his depilatory on his face and swishes his mouth clean with the sanitizer. As he limps back into his bedroom, he hopes the leg wasn't fully charged this morning because having to take the leg off to charge it in the middle of the day would suck. He could go a week on his old leg without a recharge if he didn't do a lot of walking, though he normally charged it on Sunday and Thursday out of habit.

Mac strips and throws his clothes into the hamper for washing then flips the covers back before sitting on the side of the bed. He detaches his leg with a hiss of pain and lays it on the charging pad beside the bed where it can recharge within easy reach. He sighs and slides under the light covers, pulling them up to just above his waist to cover his throbbing erection, and then watches for Kate.

She spits out her mouth sanitizer and looks at herself in the mirror. Oh yeah, she looks good! She swishes her way across the room, flicking out the light as she exits before stopping out of sight in the hall.

"Turn off the lamp," she calls.

She waits until the lamp goes out, leaving only the soft glow of the moon pouring through the huge window, before moving. Fuck yes, this is erotic as hell. She steps into the room, moving seductively across the room to Mac. She knows he's watching her, knows he can see her, but the dim light doesn't allow him to truly see what she's wearing. He's on the far side of the bed and nearest the windows. Perfect. She moves around the bed, standing before the window, backlit by the moonlight and taking a pose.

"Turn on the lamp," she whispers.

He reaches up and touches the switch on the lamp. He has a general idea of what she's wearing from the bright moonlight, but nothing could prepare him for what stands before him. Kate, dressed in a black nothingness, the negligee screaming hard fucking bitch and whispering soft seductress at the same time, a look that he would have thought impossible to pull off if not witnessing it himself. As he stares, he can feel his cock harden even more.

She smirks at his reaction, his eyes growing slightly wider as his mouth opens just a bit. That's right, you're so going to get it tonight, she thinks to herself as her eyes travel the length of him. She can see the outline of his cock under the sheet and...

"Mac!" she almost shrieks, feeling ashamed even as she blurts his name out.

"What?" he exclaims, jumping at her shout.

"I'm sorry. But Mac, your leg..." she breathes.

"What about it?"

"It's... missing."

"It's not missing, it's right here," he says, pointing to the leg on the floor. He knows what she means, but he's trying to put her at ease.

"Mac," she says again as if she hadn't heard. "I had no idea." She's burning with embarrassment. It didn't make any difference to her that he has an artificial leg, so why is she going on about it. Get a grip woman! she rages to herself. "Mac, I'm sorry for acting this way. Please forgive me," she says getting control of herself. How in the hell had I not noticed this before?

"Nothing to forgive, and you not noticing is nice compliment. I worked hard to keep that old leg the same color as my natural leg."

"Old leg?" she asks, crawling into bed with him. She still feels shame, but Mac, he could be talking about a piece of furniture.

"That's why I was in LA this week. I was being fitted with my new and improved leg. Unfortunately it wasn't fully charged because I was going to use that new leg to wear you out tonight. Alas," he says, heaving a dramatic sigh, "Tonight I will have to be the fuckee instead of the fucker." He then looks her in the face, his tone becoming serious. "Unless this bothers you," he says waving a hand over the flat place in the sheet where his leg should be. "If it does, I understand. We can wait until in the morning... or I can take you home tomorrow."

She feels herself begin to tear up in shame. "No, Mac. I'm so sorry for the way I acted. It doesn't matter to me at all. Can you please forgive me? If not, I understand. But please, I'm so ashamed. I was just so surprised. Please forgive me." She blubbers once before gathering herself, refusing to cry in front of him.

He looks into her lovely eyes, swimming in tears as she struggles to not cry. All this because she thought he might be upset with her reaction over his leg? Perhaps it's partially his fault for not telling her. He honestly didn't even think about it, like not telling her he's taking off his shoes. He doesn't answer except to bend over and kiss her fully, gently on the lips, turning her, easing her back onto the bed. Slowly pulling back from the kiss, he watches her eyes.

She's still struggling to not cry. At first it was because she was ashamed, afraid of how he would react to her seeing him without his leg, but now she's struggling to hold against the tears from the profound sense of relief that he doesn't seem upset at all. She looks at him, sniffing once.

"Can we start over, please? And this time I won't act the fool, I promise."

He smiles down at her. "Yes, we can start over, but I don't think we have to go all the way back to the beginning do we?" he asks softly, gently touching his lips to hers once more, pulling in her in tight as her arms encircle his neck, drawing him down.

The moment his lips touch hers, she's lost. He's the sweetest, most understanding man she knows, willing to overlook her foolishness, and she needs him. She needs his touch, his kiss, she needs to feel him inside her like no man in recent memory, her need going beyond the physical pleasures she knows he's capable of giving her. She encircles his neck with her arms and pulls him into the kiss with desperate strength. He responds to her pull, drawing her in tight in return, his embrace nearly crushing the breath from her, but she wants him to hold her tighter still. She opens her mouth slightly, eagerly accepting his probing tongue as his fingers gently pluck at her nighty, softly tugging the fabric from her most sensitive areas.

She comes alive in his kiss, her anguish apparently forgotten, the kiss reigniting the fire within him that had dampened when she was drowning in sorrow over nothing important. As they kiss, he begins to gently stroke her nipples, then her womanhood, teasing her with his touch. He begins to pull back from her ferocious kiss, gently trying to break her hold on him, but she seems determined to hold the kiss, so he relents and begins to kiss her like he means it.

He tries to pull away, but she needs his kiss, needs to feel his lips against hers, so she holds him to her until he begins to kiss her the way she wants to be kissed. As they kiss, he rolls over, taking her with him and placing her on top of his broad chest. He'd softened considerably while she'd made a fool of herself, but he was returning to full hardness, swelling against her womanhood, and it feel delicious. Finally, having her need for the kiss satisfied, she breaks the kiss, intending to slide down and take his impressively hard cock into her mouth, but he holds her in place with one hand as he kisses her neck and shoulders while methodically stripping her of her negligee, taking first one breast, then the other, into his mouth as he exposes them.

He patiently works her oh-so-sexy nightie off her as she squirms to help. As he suckles at her breasts, holding her by her arms to prevent her from escaping, she begins to whimper and move, sliding her silk panties over the head of his cock, the sensation sending chills through him. He endures her thrusting hips as long as he can before rolling her over and pinning her down with his body as his lips begin a slow exploration of her from breasts to vagina.

She's burning, each touch of his lips and tongue a new flare of pleasure. As he works his way ever lower, her anticipation builds, knowing what he can do to her with his wickedly skilled lips and tongue.

He begins to kiss just above Kate's panty line while slowly running his fingers under the waistband. At first, he was simply going to move the tiny patch of material aside, but then decides that he will remove them instead. He slowly pulls them down, his lips following along behind, millimeter by millimeter, Kate lying perfectly still as her breath comes in fast pants.

Mac is killing her, slowly, by degrees, his withholding of the pleasure she so desperately wants destroying her. "Please, Mac, please make me come," she whimpers, so desperate for her release she can't think straight. Am I really begging a man for my pleasure? Fuck it! Whatever it takes to get this oppressive emotional weight off me!

He's surprised to hear her pleading with him, begging for him to make her come. He smiles as he gently touches her with his tongue, making her shiver and groan, but his smile fades as he remembers why she's acting this way. No, this isn't Kate at all. He stops his teasing and slips her panties from her. She needs this... this... this pseudo-makeup sex to show her everything will be alright. He smiles again as his tongue touches her womanhood with a purpose this time.

The moment his tongue touches her she can feel herself gasp as her back arches, striving to drive his tongue harder onto her clit. He responds to her unspoken request as his tongue becoming a source of pleasure, probing her as he settles to the bed and pulls her hips down with him.

"Ohhh... fuck," she whispers as her orgasm begins to form, a towering tidal wave of erotic energy, frightening to behold. "Yes... yes... oh..." she whispers as the wave begins to break. "Make me come, Mac, make me come, make me come..." she chants, her limbs stiffening as her orgasm begins to take her.

She begins to tighten up, trying to push her hips into the air, but he holds her firmly to the bed as she chants something jumbled and incoherent. As she begins to keen, he pushes harder with this tongue, pulls more firmly with his lips, trying to devastate her, her keen turning into a wail, then a short, throat rending, cry as she begins to thrash and twitch.

As her orgasm crashes in on her, drowning her in pleasures she can't accept, she begins thrashing out of control as he continues to pillage her with his tongue and lips, until at last, thankfully, he stops. Free from his torment, her orgasm flows, washing her clean of worry and self-doubt. She lies still, panting, allowing a glowing warmth to flow through her as the orgasm loosens its hold on her.

"Feeling better?" he asks, kissing her on the neck as she continues to pant from the power of her orgasm.

"Much," she murmurs as she lays warm and relaxed, eyes closed, enjoying the closeness she feels with him.

"That's good," he murmurs while lowering his mouth to hers to kiss her gently. "That's very good."

"Why's that?" she asks quietly, not opening her eyes.

"This is your chance to have your way with me. Not for an hour, but for the entire night." he says quietly, baiting her, watching her to judge her reaction. "It'd be a shame for you to not to take advantage of it."

She lies still, not understanding, until his words hit her like a hammer blow, causing her eyes to snap open wide. He's certainly capable of delivering the goods, as he has just shown, but without his leg attached he's going to let her be in control. A fire ignites in her like none she has ever felt before, her mouth twisting into a sardonic grin.

"Yes it would, wouldn't it?" she says, pushing hard on him to roll him onto his back. She moves with him, lying across his chest, smiling down at him. He's controlled her every time they've fucked, but tonight is going to be different. She's going to be in charge, and she plans on proving to him once and for all she's a match for any man. She sits astraddle of him, his hardness pressing firmly against her womanhood as she leans down to bring her lips close to his. "Are you sure you're ready for this?" she whispers into his lips, still smiling evilly.

"There is only one way to find out isn't there?" he goads her, injecting as much confidence into his voice as possible, more confidence than he feels. "Are you sure you're ready?"

Her smile widens. "I guess there is only way to find out," she breathes, giving his words back to him.