Heart's Tempest

"If you'd like, I could start up the flood of questions again." I suggested, giving a haughty little sigh, as he lifted my shirt up. His lip twitched as he lowered my body to the couch, his own coming to rest on mine, his hardness pressing into my belly.

It felt right to have a man lying atop me again. It had been so long. My marriage was not the most sexually adventuresome. I really had to push my ex to think outside the box. When I say push, I meant push. The man had no sense of direction or decision making skills (Except when it came to: me or his addictions. That was the easiest decision of his life). I had to guide him every step of the way. I even had to tell him what clothes to wear. He would come to me with this distressed look in his eye, as if the world were about to end, hold his hands out in defeat and say "I don't know what to wear." Sometimes, I'd have to remind him to take a shower. Not that he was dirty, but he was forgetful. It was exhausting! Don't get me wrong, I didn't mind being in control, but what fun is that when the person basically just lay there beneath you? Boring!

"Are you OK?" He questioned, smoothing my shirt back down and tossing a blanket over us. I snuggled into the cocoon of warmth and nodded, rubbing my nose against his. A look of consternation came into his eye. "Are you warm enough?"

"I'm getting there." I told him.

He just lay there gazing into my eyes. The heat pouring off of his body helped ward off some of the chill. I closed my eyes, absorbing his heat, breathing his warmth. He held his body slightly away from mine as he swept his hands along my curves, down my body and then back up the sides, settling them on my collarbone, which he stroked. He swept my hair out of the way and followed with his lips, his fingers gently exploring my skin. When I opened my eyes again, he was wearing an odd expression and heaved a sigh. I opened my mouth to ask him a question.

In light of my doldrum intimate past, when this dreamy redheaded Celtic warrior type man silenced me with a kiss and pressed his body against mine, grinding his pelvis and hard cock into all my warm places, with a look of serious intention in his eye; I was more than happy to see where it would lead. Be he an angel, a ghost, or something more sinister, just about now, I didn't give a damn. He was hot; he was hard; he was sexy; he was between my thighs, aptly available and well equipped (I might add), and he looked like he was going to devour me any second. I blocked out the squeaky voice in my head that said danger and focused on the hot mouth clamped around my cloth covered breast, the tongue flicking against the fabric, and the hand cupping me between my thighs.

"Still cold?" He whispered hotly in my ear.

"Uh." I sputtered.

"Don't answer that." He held his finger up to my lips, bringing it down to fold my lower lip down and nipping it. He raised himself again, so his hands could grab the hem of my silky shirt, and pulled it up past my ample breasts, tweaking my nipples on the way up. He rested his hands on my upper back to lift me up and finish divesting me of my shirt. My nipples pebbled up in response to the excitement and the change from my body's temperature, which quickly rose from the freezing temperatures I had been experiencing. "Body heat." His eyes promised as his fingertips drifted down my sides, eliciting a giggle and a chill from me. His eyes bore into mine as he lifted his hands off my body and started pulling away. I stifled the sound, quickly, my eyes asking him to stay.

He used the backs of his nails to skim back up and repeat the same action, using just his fingertips again. I bit my lip as he watched me, waiting. Satisfied I was not going to betray my tickle weakness, he gave me a grin and a nod of approval. His left hand encircled both of my wrists and held them above my head. I let out a small sigh, relieved. He lowered his head to my stomach. My body spasmed when the tip of his tongue dipped briefly into my belly button. I almost lost it and had to bite the inside of my cheek and my lip. The tongue swirled lazy circles around my stomach and lower abdomen, causing the muscles to clench.

"You're quite ticklish, aren't you?" He asked, as his tongue traveled to the side of my hip, his teeth grazing it. My eyes squeezed tight and my body wiggled. He rotated his hips, his cock pushing against my clit. Moisture gathered between my legs.

"Yeah." I yelped when he suddenly let go my wrists and grabbed my legs, jerking them forward. Within seconds my pants were completely yanked off me, leaving me nearly naked. How he got my pants off me so quickly, I'll never know. His gaze inspected me from head to toe. He leaned his body forward again and nudged his knee between my thighs, rubbing it against my aching clit. I wondered if he could feel the wetness beginning to form. My eyelids flew open. I looked into his blue orbs and slowly, deliberately started parting my thighs. He growled at my slowness and reached his hand in to cup my panty-clad wetness. My lower half responded with a lurch, as my thighs automatically dropped open. He ran the side of his hand up the crease of my lips, as he kissed my knee.

"No more tickling." I pleaded with him.

"I like tickling. Let me hear you giggle." He lifted my bottom half up and set me in his lap, reaching for my feet. Panicking, seeing the direction of his gaze, I sat up and twisted away, trying to get out of his reach.

"Oh, no you don't." He scolded, as his arms came around my waist, yanking me off the feet I was nearly gaining. I crashed against the couch and he set upon my breasts with earnest, suckling on the peaked tips, circling them with his tongue, tugging them lightly with his teeth. His soft hair swept against my skin, electrifying the nerves. As he paid homage to one breast, my hand squeezed and caressed the other. His mouth released me and he looked where my hand was busily playing with my nipple. He grabbed my hand.

"No." He barked, startling me with the intensity in his voice, I shrunk back down. "That's my job." He said softly, seductively, as he kissed the tip of my nose. "Does this bother you?" He asked, cradling my face in his hands. I shook my head no.

"Only the tickling." I whispered, my lip trembling.

"Unfortunately, that can't be helped." He lay his finger on my lip. "What's wrong? Is this not what you wanted?"

"How would you know what I want?" I asked him quietly.

"I'm not sure: I just do. You need a man that can take control sometimes, take the burden off of you. I can be that if you let me. If you wish it." The aspect excited me, but then reality started hitting.

"Yes, sometimes." I answered his previous question.

"Well?"

"You. I-I. What's the point when you can't stay?" I sighed frustrated, distressed, and nearing on depressed. He gathered me in his arms and held me, rocking me. I wasn't going to cry. "Sure this is all fine and well for Valentine's Day." I groaned. "But, what about the rest of the days?"

"Shh. Can't you just think about here and now and not think beyond that?"

"How can you? Aren't you entrenched in your past? In your memories, your experiences? How can you turn that off? I don't even know your name. For that matter, you don't know my name." I whined.

"I am called Diarmuid." He said solemnly.

I laughed hysterically. Was he for real? Was it possible that I wasn't making up the whole Celtic warrior thing, after all?

"A family name." He said.

"What year are you from, Diarmuid?" I tested his name on my lips, emphasizing the "deer" and it sat nicely. Yet I was suspicious and began raising my guard back up.

"I don't remember. Why does it matter so much to you?"

"You're dead." I said flatly, defeated. "Or not even of this world."

"If I weren't?" His voice sulky. I started shivering again. He gently pulled me to a sitting position and stood up, taking my hands in his. I gave him a questioning look, allowing him to help me to my feet.

***

"Body heat isn't enough to get you warm." He announced, as he placed his hand on the small of my back and guided me across the room to a doorway. I stepped into the room. There were three large skylights above and a lavish bathroom before me. My eye honed in on the huge claw foot tub. I left his side and eagerly walked over to inspect the tub. I could see several jacuzzi jets strategically placed inside. Giddy, I turned to face him. He was leaning up against the door jam of the door, his legs crossed, arms folded across his chest, head tilted to the side. He wore a relaxed expression, with the promise of something more in his eyes.

"How do you turn it on?" I asked. I could feel my body already warming at the thought of the hot water, the suds, the massaging jets on my worn body.

"Very easily." He strode over to me and placing his big strong hands on my waist, lifted me up and hoisted me onto the bathroom counter. "Do you need a demonstration?" I bit my lip, as he pulled my thighs apart and tugged the panties off of me.

"The tub." I barely managed to get the words out when his head lowered and disappeared between my spread thighs. He blew warm breath across my center, kissing across my waist line.

"Oh that." He muttered. His head popped back up, expression unreadable. He stalked over to the tub and turned the handle of the faucet. I wriggled my bottom against the marble counter trying to seek relief. He looked over his shoulder, pinning me with a dark look. I lowered my lashes and did my best to sit still. The water pressure was wonderful and the tub was filling quickly. He started pouring some foam bath when I interrupted.

"Don't!" I shouted. "You'll ruin the jets." I knew the disaster regular bubbles could cause a jacuzzi tub.

He turned around, holding the bottle up for me to see. Whew, spa-safe foam bath.

"Satisfied?" His eyes darkened, dangerously.

"Y-e. No!" I sulked.

"I thought not." He had a wicked gleam in his eye. "Not for a while at least." His laughter edged on maniacal. I swallowed hard and when his back was turned tried to slide off the counter. Too late! Before I could blink he had caught me around the waist and swung me up and over, dropping me into the tub. With a splash, I slid down and went under. He reached in and grabbed my hand pulling me up. I spluttered, coughing.

"That wasn't nice." I pouted. The pout quickly turning into a purr of pleasure as his hands gathered up bubbles and slid them across my chest. I closed my eyes, allowing his fingers to work their magic.

"God your hands are amazing." I told him as he knelt beside the tub and started massaging my shoulders. I arched under his touch as he slid more suds down my back, dipping low in the water. His finger grazed against the sensitive area just above my ass, circling.

"You've told me your name, I think it's only right to tell you my name." I told him, as his fingers left my back and circled around to the front of my body.

"Not now." His hand disappeared beneath the suds. He leaned forward and flicked my ear with his tongue. My mouth closed. I felt the flats of his fingers against my mound, just touching the surface. My hips bucked up, encouraging those fingers to explore. He pulled them away, flicked the water off of his hands and stood up. He placed one leg into the water and lowered himself to sit on the edge, straddling the tub. I looked up at him, curious. He looked devious as he stretched his big foot down to the tips of my toes, sliding it up my leg, to my inner thigh. My breath hitched in anticipation. He stood up, turned himself around and slid back, so that he was now facing me. His big toe gently touched my clit, carefully rubbing at it. I gasped, my jaw dropping open. I had never before had a man touch me at my most intimate places with his toes. I moaned as his big toe worked my clit and the heel of his foot gingerly pressed against my pussy. God, it was so unexpectedly hot!

I braced my hands on the shelf of the jacuzzi and grinded myself against the heel of his foot. He pressed a button and the jets roared to life, as he removed his foot sliding it away from me and to the other side of the tub. I mewled in protest, then cried out as I felt one of the jets aimed straight at my aching pussy, a steady stream of water pounding into me. He slid forward and took my face in his hands, kissing me hard, his hands cupping my breasts, pads of his thumbs rubbing across my peaked nipples. I returned the kiss, my body writhing against the shaft of water, opening my mouth to welcome the invasion of his tongue. Every nerve ending in my body was tingling. I wondered if he was going to join me.

"You are trembling." He whispered hotly in my ear as he took my hand in his. "But, at least you are no longer shivering or chattering." He grinned at me, placing my hand on his cock. "Trembling is good." I lightly rubbed my hand up and down his hardness. "See how hard you make me?" I felt his steel hard cock twitch in my hand as I slid my hand back down his shaft to cup his balls. He sucked in a breath as I played with them, rubbing and gingerly squeezing.

"Aren't you going to join me?" My voice lowering and taking on a sultry tone.

"I am afraid I won't fit, dearheart." He apologized. I sighed. Dearheart? Did he just use a term of endearment?

"You could hold me in your lap." I suggested, hopefully.

"I think that's enough water for tonight. I don't want your skin to get so pruned that I can't enjoy the silk of it." He caressed my hair back from my brow and kissed along my collarbone, up to the spot just below my earlobe. As I was tilting my neck to give him better access, he moved away and stood up. He returned with a big fluffy green towel. I stood on weak knees and held his arm for support as I stepped onto the floor. He wrapped the towel around my body and then wrapped his arms around me, drawing me close to him.

"I used to work with my hands for a living." He said, his brow furrowed. This admission startled me. He seemed surprised he remembered that. Were his memories beginning to come back to him?

"Doing what? Giving massages?" I giggled.

"Making things." I reached up and pinched his bicep. It wasn't bulging, but it was certainly solid. He playfully tapped my nose with his finger and scooped me into his arms, carrying me out of the bathroom. I put my arms around his shoulders and held onto to him, resting my head against his broad chest. Again, I felt the overwhelming sensation that somehow this was right. I snuggled against him. His pace picked up as he crossed the roughly hewn wooden floor. Having never seen the outside of the house, I could only surmise we were in some type of hunting lodge or cabin. I cringed when I saw the stag's head above the mantle of the fireplace. How had I missed that before? It made me curious.

"Do you hunt? Or did you hunt?" I asked him turning my eyes away from the mounted head and looking into his.

"I did. But I ate what I killed." He nodded, looking around.

"Is this your home?" I wrinkled my nose.

"I think it has been in the family." He walked through a stone doorway. We were in a bedroom. A fire was blazing in the stone fireplace, this one smaller than the huge one in the great room, or whatever you would have called it. In the center of the room stood a bed constructed of logs made of a blonde colored wood. A rustic quilt lay atop the bed; burgundy, brown, and hunter green were the colors. There was a moose wrack hanging over the bed. I groaned inwardly.

"Are you still cold?" He asked as he sat me on the edge of the bed.

***

"No." I yawned and stretched sleepily. "Just tired." The green towel slid down my body and pooled at my waist. He stood there, considering me for what seemed like ages.

"You can sleep later." He growled as he swung my legs up onto the bed, removed the towel from around me and nudged my body up towards the headboard.

"You can't be serious." I half-heartedly complained.

"I fed you: I bathed you: I warmed you: Now I want something in return." His voiced deepened as he crawled onto the bed, purposefully advancing towards me. I scrambled out of his reach, butting up against the headboard with a squeak.

"Stand." He commanded.

"Why?" I shot back at him.

"Stand up, or I will make you stand." What was with this guy? One minute he was tender and sweet and the next he was demanding and domineering. Ohmygod, my fantasy come to life! He reached out and wrapped his fingers in my hair, his grip firm. I quickly stood to my feet and gave him a challenging look in return for the scowl he gave me. "Turn around." I complied, feeling the juices from my pussy seep out and run down my leg. I felt his fingers probe me and wipe the wetness from my inner thigh. I glanced over my shoulder at him and blinked as he brought his fingers to his mouth to taste, a predatory gleam in his eye. My breath quickened in my lungs.

"Reach up and hold onto the antlers." He instructed.

"What? Diarmuid." I started, my mind running through a dozen scenarios. "I don't want to touch those things." I started turning around but felt his hand on my back pressing my body into the headboard.

"You'll need something for support." He chuckled to himself, shaking his head. I glared at him. "Oh come on. Alright, fine. Hang on to the top of the headboard, if that suits you better." He pinched my ass and then gave it a light swat. "Will you close your eyes for me, or am I going to have blindfold you?" My tummy did flip-flops and I nodded dumbly.

"Yes to eyes or yes to the blindfold?" He questioned again. "Oh nevermind." I felt the weight of the bed shift and peeked over my shoulder. There was a matching nightstand beside the bed. He opened the drawer and drew out a strip of plaid, wiggling his eyebrows at me. My clenched left hand flew to my chest and I drew a shaky breath. I wasn't sure I would be able to give up this much control. Just allowing him to man-handle me had been hard enough. This was really pushing my limits.

"Moi chroí. I am not going to hurt you." He came up behind me and stroked my hair, kissing my cheek. "I promise, angel." He whispered, moving his lips to my earlobe. "If you don't like it, I'll stop. I'll even let you beat me up. Alright?" He sounded so convincing. "Let me show you how a real man can pleasure a woman. You haven't experienced that, have you?" I found myself once again wondering how he knew these things. I shook my head, sighing.

"What did you just call me?" I asked him. As I turned back around, I felt the rough fabric slide down in front of my eyes. The world went dark. He gently tied a knot at the nape of my neck. "What language was that?" I questioned. The weight of the bed shifted again, something was pushed down between my chest and the headboard, as I felt hands pull my hips back slightly. My body lurched when I felt fingers on the insides of my thighs, spreading them slightly. It tickled. I gasped when I felt warm breath fan across the apex of my thighs. The muscles of my body clenched in anticipation. I could see nothing. My ears were met by silence. My skin was on fire.

Fingers light as feathers danced along the skin of my legs. A moist kiss was pressed to the back of my knee and then the wetness of a tongue followed a trail from my knee to just below my cheek, nipping right at the crease. I pitched forward, my bottom thrusting out. Hands grabbed my cheeks, bringing me forward, keeping me in place. I felt something against my foot and nudged it. It was soft and bulky. I surmised it was a pillow. Soft hair whispered against the insides of my thighs, as the breath on my skin grew hotter. I held my breath, squeezing my eyes shut; although with the blindfold there really was no need. It made me feel like I had more control closing my eyes. A finger - I guessed - slid between my lower lips to explore the inner folds, rubbing along the slickness. A second finger joined the first and they created a scissoring motion, which caused my inner muscles to clench tightly. Something brushed against my clitoris. Too sensitive, I tried to lurch away, but was held in place. I quickly realized the reason he told me to hold onto something. I unclenched my fists and brought them to the top of the bed frame, wrapping my fingers around, clutching it. I leaned forward trying to rub my breasts against the wood, with no luck. I was too far away. The fingers inside of me were moving faster.