30. Chapter 30

Chapter thirty

Luci

S crubbing fireplaces clean is actually quite enjoyable. My muscles feel warm, my mind occupied just enough to keep my thoughts from spiraling. I could get used to this. And I'm going to have to, unless I take the fey up on their offer of servants. Because I don't think I'd feel safe around any humans. My guilt is too enormous.

But fey in the house would also be unnerving. So scrubbing fireplaces and a never ending list of chores it is. Good thing it seems as if I'm not afraid of hard work. I haven't balked at anything so far.

Drew's footsteps sound in the hallway. A smile stretches across my lips and I get to my feet. Goodness, I'm in a state. Sooty apron and a scarf over my hair.

Drew walks in. The last of his bruises have gone and he looks wonderful. But he is carrying a cardboard box. Unease claws at my stomach. I'm being ridiculous. Drew is grinning like an excited toddler. It's not going to be anything bad.

"I've got you a present," he says, confirming my conclusion.

Hastily, I wipe my hands clean on a soot free patch of my apron. Drew places the cardboard box down on the table. The familiar Amazon logo fills me with warmth. Drew really has got into online shopping.

"Open it!" he says excitedly .

I rip open the cardboard and pull out the packaging to find a pink glittery box inside. It's very pretty. I lift it out carefully and place it on the table. I open the lid and a sea of nail polish bottles greets me. One of every single color imaginable.

Oh, my goodness. I haven't got the hang of the make-up set he bought me yet. But I'm getting there slowly with the help of YouTube videos. Now I'm going to be watching nail polish ones too.

"Thank you," I say, and then run out of words.

My brain still wants to add, ‘my lord husband', especially on occasions where I'm floundering. Like now. I was trained how to politely receive gifts. I have no idea how to do it informally.

I look up at Drew. He is smiling. There is nothing but warmth in his eyes. He understands. He knows I am truly grateful.

"I've made lunch and set it up in the sunroom," he says.

My heart does a little flip. My husband, the count. Making lunch with his own hands and not complaining about it one bit.

"Sounds wonderful," I say. "I'll just wash my hands and I'll be right there."

He grins again and walks away. The urge to run after him is strong, but I can wait five minutes.

I throw off my apron and scarf and hurry across the hall to one of the guest rooms. It has a washbasin in it and a bar of soap. I quickly wash my hands and tidy my hair in the mirror. Then I scurry to the sunroom.

Drew has made a Ploughman's Lunch. Thick slices of buttered bread served next to chunks of cheese and pickled onions. He has even made a salad. Bless him.

His gaze drops to my very short skirt as I walk in, and it's hard not to squirm. I'm wearing thigh high socks, but actually I think the flash of skin between the skirt and the socks looks more indecent than if I'd left my legs bare. I'll remember that in the future .

Though, the way my husband is looking at me, is making me think that perhaps I will wear this again.

I take my seat by my husband and we tuck in to the delicious lunch he has made. Sunlight is streaming into the sunroom and birds are singing. The gardens look green and lovely. Overgrown, but there is only so much the three of us can do. It will probably be a jungle by the time the summer ends.

"Is George not joining us?" I ask.

Drew shakes his head. "He said he'll grab a sandwich later, he's stuck into fixing the Land Rover."

I nod and chew on my food. Is George enough company for Drew? Is the isolation getting to him?

I watch my husband surreptitiously for a while. He seems perfectly happy and content. If he ever gets lonely in the future, we can cross that bridge when we come to it.

As for me, I've never been sociable. I don't miss the outside world at all. Drew is all that I need.

"Anything interesting on the news?" I ask.

Drew watches. I don't. But I ask him for updates. I'm not going to completely bury my head in the sand and pretend I haven't created a whole new world out there.

He shakes his head. "It's all calm. The last big announcement was that the fey were taking over as CEOs of all the big companies and everyone was ordered back to work. It still seems that for most people, nothing much has changed."

Drew tells me this every day, and every day it makes me feel a little better. One day he will get fed up with me asking. But for now, I cherish this little habit we have fallen into.

I feel Drew's gaze on me. I give him a questioning look. He licks his lips.

"What are you wearing under that skirt?"

Oh my. Now my heart is fluttering and my stomach twisting. Arousal is stirring deep within me. Awoken by seven little words and my husband's heated gaze .

Inspiration strikes, and without pulling my chair away from the table, I somehow manage to wriggle out of my panties and slide them down my legs. There is a heart-stopping moment where I think they are going to get stuck on my chunky sneakers, but they are stretchy enough to pass over.

Casually, I reach down and pick up the red satin from the floor, then I hand my panties to my husband, with the very best air of nonchalance I can manage.

The look on his face is priceless. I want to keep it forever and ever.

He turns the panties over in his hands, then his dark gaze flicks back up to me and gives me a little jolt.

"Bend over the table."

I can't swallow. I don't even think I can breathe. Nervousness and desire are fighting within me. But as I stare into my husband's eyes, desire wins. Drew will never hurt me. He will never ask me to do something he doesn't think I'm ready for. I trust him.

Slowly, I get to my feet. Slowly, I push my empty plate away. Slowly, I bend over the table.

Drew's chair scrapes loudly on the floor as he stands up. He walks over and stands behind me. He pulls the tight material of my skirt up, but it's so short he doesn't need to pull it up very far to bare my naked ass to him.

I look over my shoulder at him. He gives me a truly filthy wink and then drops to his knees.

My heart stops working. My head snaps back round. Then I shriek as his hot, wet tongue laps around my hole. He does it again, and nothing has ever felt so good.

My fingers clench at the tablecloth and I moan wantonly.

Soft, warm wetness swirls around and around my hole. My cock fills and throbs. My hips push back. My back arches shamelessly.

Around and around. And then over. And now up and down .

The noises pouring out of me are scandalous. Depraved. But Drew says he loves to hear me. He wants to hear the pleasure he gives me.

I'm groaning now. Rocking. Probably drooling. All the sensation is around my hole but pleasure has flowed along my veins to every single part of me.

A bright burst of euphoria ignites, and I scream my joy. Belatedly, my nerve endings tell me Drew has eased his tongue inside of me and it feels better than anything ever has.

He works his tongue in and out of me. Flicking fast. Fucking me with his tongue. I can feel him on my rim. I can feel him inside me. It is heaven and bliss.

His tongue goes deeper and I wail. I'm sobbing and whimpering now. I'm close, so very close. Teetering on the very edge of orgasm at the very point where it feels almost painful.

A finger eases in beside his clever tongue. The finger goes in deeper. It curls and presses, and I see stars. My orgasm roars through me, and out of me. I'm yelling, clenching. Convulsing.

My cock is spurting and spurting, and my joy is rolling on and on.

Magic flows out of me and into Drew. I'm never going to settle into a regular cycle at this rate, and I don't even care.

Drew pulls me up into his arms and holds me as the waves of my bliss slowly recede from my mind, and the aftershocks of my peak tremble through my body.

Slowly my lungs remember how to breathe and the world takes shape around me. My naked ass is on the table. My head is on Drew's shoulder and my arms are around his back. His arms are around me too. Drew is holding me, and everything is wonderful.

"All good?" he asks.

I nod and then remember he likes to hear me say it. "All good."

But that's a lie. Everything is far, far beyond good.

It's all perfect.