Tulips

Chapter 20

Louis clambered into the carriage and settled himself onto the upholstery opposite from Adelaide. She looked sheepish, fidgeting with her hands, they hadn't been alone together since the fight a few days prior. He had bruises across his knuckles the blue had started fading into green, the scratch on his jaw was scabbed. A golden sunrise was painted over the ground, the compartment was still shadowed.
Louis dodged his wife's nervous glances, after a period of wriggling she finally spoke.
"I'm so sorry, Louis," she fluttered. "I never thought he would, and with everyone there, I would never have let him I swear. Oh, and look at your face. I can't believe what a mess I've made" her throat croaked as the words shot out her mouth.
"You didn't do anything" he interrupted, indifferent. "That son of a bitch always has to make a scene,"
Adelaide sniffed, appreciated the consolation but sobs still rose out of her small body. She tried to stifle the uneven gasps, don't make a fool of yourself. "I... He... and, I just thought," she buried her face in her hands.
"Shhh," he hushed, moving to her side. "It's okay, you’re okay," he enveloped her in an empathetic embrace. She leaned into him, her whimpers wetting his jacket. A shared warmth. The hug meant nothing, just noncommittal support, there would be no outcomes from his affection. Louis stroked her hair until she composed herself. They rode the rest of the way in silence.

Adelaide let out a soft moan as Théo placed a kiss on her collarbone. His rough hands were placed gently on her breast, they breathed in sync. She moved carefully down his body, towards his privates. He writhed in anticipation. Afterwards, he returned the favour, Adelaide clasped the sheets, yelping in pleasure.

"How was the trip?" Théo said his eyes intense in concentration.
Adelaide posed; her naked body arranged deliberately on the bed. He was painting her on a small piece of paper, his jaw jutted to the side in habit. "It was horrible," Suddenly Adelaide's emotions burst out, she began sobbing, trying not to move out of her position.

Théo gawked at her, unsure of what to do. He shifted awkwardly and continued painting as she recounted the events. All she wanted was for him to give her some advice, but of course he could give none. Once she had finished her description, he stood up. He passed her the parchment, paint coated his thumb, a deep blue, a light pink, a bright green.
“It’s good,” Adelaide sniffed. “it’s really good,” she handed it back to him. He folded it along the centre gently and placed it on the nightstand.
“I’m glad you like it,” he intertwined his fingers in her hair, stroking her cheek with his stained finger. Adelaide moved her body back into the soft mattress, flinging her arms to the side of her head. Théo clasped her wrists, kissing her forehead and then moved down her face, past her neck, and to her breasts. He adjusted into her as she brushed his hair back with her hand. His careful, caressing grip on her arm tightened as they moaned together. And for a moment Adelaide’s trouble melted away into sweet, rich hedonism.