Eternally North
Page 111
He shrugged. “My mother took it at our house that night we had dinner. I didn’t know she even had it until I bought this for you. She thought it would look nice inside. She wanted me to see how I was with you, how I looked at you and how everyone else can see how you’ve changed me. I thought it was a perfect fit.”
It was perfect. In the picture, I was on Tudor’s lap and our heads were touching, smiling contentedly, caught just after a kiss. I had always thought Tudor was ridiculously out of my league, but looking at that picture of us, at the couple in love, I thought we looked perfect – maybe he was right after all.
Tudor beamed a smile and wiped the tears from my eyes with his thumb. “Now even when we’re apart, you’ll always have me close.” I snapped the locket shut and noticed script on the back: ‘You are my sunshine’
“Okay, and now for the main gift.”
My mouth gaped in shock. “Tudor, this is enough. I don’t need anything else.”
He didn’t reply but instead began to strip. Yep, strip, like a live showing of Magic Mike in my bedroom.
“Tudor, What-?” My ability to speak drew to a halt as his shirt and trousers hit the cream-coloured carpet. My gaze zeroed in. No, not where you’re thinking! Okay, maybe I did peruse his lovely disco-stick somewhat, but that is not what had me sweating.
I gasped, and my wide eyes flew back to his.
He scrunched up his nose and bit his bottom lip with nerves. "Surprise! I flew to Vancouver yesterday to my artist. I just arrived back a couple of hours ago."
Low on his hip, opposite to his already body-long tribal tattoo, was a large black Maori sun, clear in the centre with thick black solar flares draping over his lower torso, set off just to his right.
"A sun?" I asked in awe.
He nodded, a shy smile ghosting on his lips.
"For me? You flew all the way to Vancouver and back in a day to do this for me?" I whispered.
"For you, Sunshine," he whispered back, whilst moving to stand before me and stroking my cheek with his finger.
Phew! Forget oysters, forget Viagra, and forget chocolate – okay, not chocolate, let's not get carried away – the best aphrodisiac, the best turn on in the world, is when your man brands himself with ink just for you. You may not all agree, and each to their own, but for me, 'Oh, Mamma Mia!'
I suddenly recalled our conversation in the hot tub when Tudor had declared that he hadn’t got tattoos on his right side because he had ‘been saving it for someone special, a blank canvas just for them.’
Was I that someone special? I studied Tudor’s contented and happy face, and he nodded to my inner question, knowing exactly what I was thinking.
Without any warning, I pounced on him. I started at his head, placing kisses all the way down his fine body. He sucked in a breath when I got down to his stomach, perched on my knees and made a play for his 'V', that was now smothered with a sun just for me, his ‘someone special’ with my hot, hungry mouth.
I jumped up in record time, rid myself of my dress, faced Tudor and clothes-lined him to the bed. I began to maul him – pure, unadulterated ravishing. I had gone full nympho on his fine ass!
I licked around the ridges of hard muscle and ‘my’ tattoo which made him squirm and hiss. "Fuck!"
Encouraged, I sucked down harder and crept up his skin with my fingers; he burst out in laughter and curled into a protective ball. I had learned before now that a certain Mr. North couldn't take a good tickle, and I ended up laughing with him at how he begged me to stop – my tattooed muscle bad boy was now my ticklish little baby!
I crawled back over him slowly, hands on either side of his head, and he brushed a piece of my hair behind my ear. "Natasha Munro, are you trying to seduce me?"
I pressed my lips to his, stopping just long enough to say in a low, raspy voice, "Hell yeah, is it working?"
He roared and flipped me on my back. "Oh, it's working!" he rushed out.
"Yeah for me!" I clapped.
Within minutes we were joined, all politeness and tenderness gone, and passion and lust all-consuming. Tudor rolled on his back, forcing me to be on top – his favourite position, his hands full with my br**sts. I controlled every move, and he surrendered willingly to my demands. His breath became uneven as he kept rhythm with our ever-increasing moans, and with one final thrust we bellowed mutual screams of release.
Exhausted, I collapsed on him, and he announced quietly, "Happy birthday, Sunshine."
I worked my hips back and forth, making him groan and grip the headboard. "And here’s to many, many more." I murmured, seductively.
It was perfect. In the picture, I was on Tudor’s lap and our heads were touching, smiling contentedly, caught just after a kiss. I had always thought Tudor was ridiculously out of my league, but looking at that picture of us, at the couple in love, I thought we looked perfect – maybe he was right after all.
Tudor beamed a smile and wiped the tears from my eyes with his thumb. “Now even when we’re apart, you’ll always have me close.” I snapped the locket shut and noticed script on the back: ‘You are my sunshine’
“Okay, and now for the main gift.”
My mouth gaped in shock. “Tudor, this is enough. I don’t need anything else.”
He didn’t reply but instead began to strip. Yep, strip, like a live showing of Magic Mike in my bedroom.
“Tudor, What-?” My ability to speak drew to a halt as his shirt and trousers hit the cream-coloured carpet. My gaze zeroed in. No, not where you’re thinking! Okay, maybe I did peruse his lovely disco-stick somewhat, but that is not what had me sweating.
I gasped, and my wide eyes flew back to his.
He scrunched up his nose and bit his bottom lip with nerves. "Surprise! I flew to Vancouver yesterday to my artist. I just arrived back a couple of hours ago."
Low on his hip, opposite to his already body-long tribal tattoo, was a large black Maori sun, clear in the centre with thick black solar flares draping over his lower torso, set off just to his right.
"A sun?" I asked in awe.
He nodded, a shy smile ghosting on his lips.
"For me? You flew all the way to Vancouver and back in a day to do this for me?" I whispered.
"For you, Sunshine," he whispered back, whilst moving to stand before me and stroking my cheek with his finger.
Phew! Forget oysters, forget Viagra, and forget chocolate – okay, not chocolate, let's not get carried away – the best aphrodisiac, the best turn on in the world, is when your man brands himself with ink just for you. You may not all agree, and each to their own, but for me, 'Oh, Mamma Mia!'
I suddenly recalled our conversation in the hot tub when Tudor had declared that he hadn’t got tattoos on his right side because he had ‘been saving it for someone special, a blank canvas just for them.’
Was I that someone special? I studied Tudor’s contented and happy face, and he nodded to my inner question, knowing exactly what I was thinking.
Without any warning, I pounced on him. I started at his head, placing kisses all the way down his fine body. He sucked in a breath when I got down to his stomach, perched on my knees and made a play for his 'V', that was now smothered with a sun just for me, his ‘someone special’ with my hot, hungry mouth.
I jumped up in record time, rid myself of my dress, faced Tudor and clothes-lined him to the bed. I began to maul him – pure, unadulterated ravishing. I had gone full nympho on his fine ass!
I licked around the ridges of hard muscle and ‘my’ tattoo which made him squirm and hiss. "Fuck!"
Encouraged, I sucked down harder and crept up his skin with my fingers; he burst out in laughter and curled into a protective ball. I had learned before now that a certain Mr. North couldn't take a good tickle, and I ended up laughing with him at how he begged me to stop – my tattooed muscle bad boy was now my ticklish little baby!
I crawled back over him slowly, hands on either side of his head, and he brushed a piece of my hair behind my ear. "Natasha Munro, are you trying to seduce me?"
I pressed my lips to his, stopping just long enough to say in a low, raspy voice, "Hell yeah, is it working?"
He roared and flipped me on my back. "Oh, it's working!" he rushed out.
"Yeah for me!" I clapped.
Within minutes we were joined, all politeness and tenderness gone, and passion and lust all-consuming. Tudor rolled on his back, forcing me to be on top – his favourite position, his hands full with my br**sts. I controlled every move, and he surrendered willingly to my demands. His breath became uneven as he kept rhythm with our ever-increasing moans, and with one final thrust we bellowed mutual screams of release.
Exhausted, I collapsed on him, and he announced quietly, "Happy birthday, Sunshine."
I worked my hips back and forth, making him groan and grip the headboard. "And here’s to many, many more." I murmured, seductively.
