Die for You

Chapter 55

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Morning came and I was surprised to find our roles reversed, Becky tucked into my back, her arm wrapped around me tightly. I glanced at the clock, and was surprised to see that it has already gone ten, most of the morning vanishing in an exhausted haze. As I gently stretched out my aching leg, I felt a pair of moist lips press to my shoulder, kissing the puckered skin that marked the exit wound left by Mikhail Kalashnikov's baby boy.

"Morning you," I said over my shoulder as Becky pulled me tighter and transferred her attentions up my shoulder blade and onto my neck.

"Morning," she replied briefly, in between those soft delicate kisses, hardly pausing for breath. "How are you feeling this morning, you better? Is there anything I can do to help?"

Her breath was soft against my ear, her voice low and sensual. Becky Armstrong obviously had healing on her mind, in a Marvin Gaye kind of way. I stretched out the rest of my body, taking care not to disturb her, especially after she nipped me playfully, dragging me back after I tried to stretch beyond her reach.

"Where do you think you're going?" she said her hand stretching across my stomach, before reaching up to tease my nipple, "I've not finished with you yet."

"Really?" I said rolling over and reaching out an arm to stroke her cheek.

"Not even close," she said, kissing the back of my hand.

"Then I guess I'm feeling a lot better already," I said as I leaned in to kiss her.

"Good."

We lost the rest of the morning making love, not one of the passionate rumbles that had marked a lot of our relationship; those wonderful moments when you lose yourself and allow thatcombination of lust and love consume you utterly. No, this time our lovemaking was slow, and measured; tender but no less passionate for that. For me it was a moment of reconnection, a way of easing away the pain that I'd caused her by being a twat. A way of easing my own pain caused by the lack of contact that I'd enforced; punishing her, and ultimately me, for her actions on that horrible Sunday that now seemed so long ago.

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Lunch was had at a small café just inside Richmond Park, it wasn't much by Becky's standards, an open sandwich and a cup of tea, but then she said she was saving herself for a slap up dinnerbefore we hit town.

After a while, we got bored of sitting around drinking overpriced tea and headed out into the afternoon sun. The heat had built quite nicely over the Royal Park and I was glad to see her lead me down a path that was slightly covered by trees. It was surprisingly pleasant just walking together around this little piece of the country in the middle of the town and I was feeling really quite chilled as we walked hand in hand. 

It became clear to me that Becky knew her way around the park, and that her path was anything but random. She weaved us though the trees and the interlocking pathways until we came into a wide area of grassland that looked as untouched as it possibly could be, presenting me with the view of a beautiful meadow with a broad expanse of water at the far end.

"What do you think?" she said girlishly, as if seeking my approval for her little vista.

"Nice," I said, scanning the grass and the trees for signs of danger, squinting my eyes behind my sunglasses to peer into the long grass.

"I like it," Becky said linking her arm in mine. "Sometimes you see the deer around here, sometimes not; it would be nice if we're lucky today. Are you up for a walk to the lake, see if we can spot any?"