Manipulative Attraction

34. ⚛️ Bed Time Stories

"I'm a member of the Istochnik," Jeannie said, holding his gaze.

Thorne blinked once, twice, and then launched himself at her.

That was the only word Jeannie could use to describe what he did. He was blinking one moment, and then, he was a blur.

Jeannie's world upended. Her curls swung from side to side as Thorne carried her over his shoulder.

"Hawthorne! Put me down," Jeannie squealed.

He eventually did. Once he reached her bed.

The moon filtered through the blinds of the window to make glowing patterns on the cover. Thorne climbed on top of her before Jeannie even thought of rolling away.

Not that she would.

Thorne nudged Jeannie's legs open with his knee to fall between them as soon as they parted. He propped himself up on his arms so he could gaze into her face.

"You and I will talk," he said softly, running a finger down her nose, tapping the nub at the end. "But later, okay?"

Jeannie giggled, causing Thorne to flush red. He growled in her ear as he dipped his head and moved against her. Dinner was forgotten on the table as they let their hunger consume them.

Jeannie sighed. Cradling Thorne close, she ran a hand through his silky hair.

"Later," she whispered. "Much, much later."

***

Thorne sat back on his haunches. Crossing his arms, he pulled his sweater and undershirt over his head. Jeannie sat up and hurriedly did likewise with her clothing, leaving on her bra and panties. She wanted to watch Thorne undress.

Thorne stood.

Jeannie admired the way even the moon aided her in her perusal of his body. The silver globe came from around a cloud to shine brightly on the slats of his ribs as he bent to remove his socks, hopping on one foot and then the other.

When he straightened, part of his tattoo, a woman with flowing hair holding a scale and sword aloft became visible—The Lady Justice.

Was the face modeled after an ex? she wondered.

"Who is the woman in your tattoo?" she asked, rolling to her side.

"The Lady Justice."

Well, I knew that, Jeannie huffed in her mind.

She waited for a further explanation, but when Thorne undid the top button of his jeans, she forgot all about her follow up questions.

Jeannie stifled a moan as Thorne slid his pants slowly down his long legs. He stepped out of them, bending low to pick them up. She raised from the bed to follow his movements, leaning back again when he caught her staring.

She didn't want to seem too eager.

Thorne's grin, as saucy as ever, sent a nervous chill of anticipation up her spine. The tremor grew worse when the moon winked out, plunging the room into near darkness.

Where is he?

She rose up on her knees, trying to decipher his shape.

Jeannie let out a Fifi like yip, when she felt his hands on her shoulders, pushing her down into the mattress. His legs encased her. Skin rubbing skin. Thorne's hair tickled her face as he bent his head.

"You want to talk about my tattoo now?" He whisper-brushed her lips with the barest of kisses. Thorne went on to smooth her hair and then nuzzle her ear. When Jeannie arched into him, he chuckled.