Peace in the Thunder

One could almost forget, starved for each other as they were, that there would be a bittersweet parting come the morning. How desperately he wished to peel every layer from her so that his touch could scout the familiar dips and valleys of her body, but as Ettie’s stomach clearly reminded them both that sustenance was required.

Rene chuckled softly, squeezing her gently, All in good time my sweet, he reassured her. Her pulse thrummed against his fingertips, that skipping beat held in check much like his own. It is the dream, that one day, will be a reality. Believe me, my darling. Soon this will be our everyday. Then with sharp tut his eyes rolled. My Father would argue that, finally, I learn the art of patience.

Turning over the bread to cook enough that achieved her desired runny basket he soon plated up the light dinner, raising the food high like a high end waiter at the La Garre, his free hand encouraging her to return to her chair with a playful slow spin. Eat, my precious, I’ll fix myself something and clean up, pushing her clasped hand away encouragingly.

I’ll move around wickedly, tease you while you savour our cooking, dessert will be sublime, I promise you, flashing her a wink before he turns suggestively back to the bench to make himself something.