Cherry Girl (Neil & Elaina 1)

****

“I don’t know what I think is more beautiful, this spread or the view from our suite,” she announced at breakfast.

We’d made our way out of the bed, miraculously, and down to the dining room. After our wake-up orgasms, we’d showered together and even managed to get dressed into clothing fit for public wear. I think it really came down to the need for nutrients. Bodies can’t shag for hours without some refueling to keep them going. The best kind of experiment though. I had no complaints as I sat across the breakfast table and watched her over a cup of tea and a scone. My only distracting thought—the long curl of hair strewn over her left breast, obstructing my view. My mind began playing the let’s remember what Elaina’s tits look like naked game. She had the most spectacular pair that’s for sure.

Yeah, I’m just a lowly bastard male and cannot help myself.

“What’s on your mind, Neil?” She interrupted my inner ramblings.

I looked up to see her smirking and knew I was good and caught.

“Nothing fit for this fancy breakfast room full of guests.”

“I knew it,” she laughed.

“It’s all your fault, my darlin’” I said. “I need to take you somewhere private and then I can show you exactly what was on my mind.” I whispered the rest so nobody could hear. “After I remove some of your clothes.”

“Ahh, I see what you’re on about. You’re trying to trick me back into bed with you and you should know that it’s a lost cause, mister.”

“Really?” I gave her a sad face.

She laughed at me some more but said nothing.

“Well, it’s a nice day today so maybe you fancy an out-of-doors shag.” I winked. “I’m game if you are, babe, I love me a bit country sunshine.”

She shook her head at me and blushed beautifully. Man, did it wreak havoc on my insides. There was something about how Elaina got shy around me, and blushed at the mention of naughty deeds. That rosy flush of her skin that appeared when she thought about all the sexy things we’d done together, was definitely my kryptonite.

****

The day was perfectly fine and just about everything else was too. Iridescent blue dragonflies flittered over the water, buzzing around us, and even occasionally coming to rest upon the wate

r’s surface. The fresh air mixed with the scent of her hair comforted my senses to the point I could honestly admit I was blissed out. It was a first for me. I’d never known the feeling before.

Elaina lay back on my chest in a little green and white rowboat upon Lake Leticia, a scenic meandering pond situated on the Hallborough estate. I was again reminded of the many BBC miniseries my gran had enjoyed on TV when I was a boy—lovers from times past with nothing better to do than float on a garden lake, stealing kisses in their fine clothes and flattering their dates with fancy words.

I had to say it wasn’t at all bad. I was loving it.

“My mum would love it here,” she said, trailing a hand over the side and into the water. “She’s always been captivated by historic homes and gardens.”

“My gran would have too.” I surprised myself for mentioning her at all. Gran was a topic I kept close and pretty much closed. Elaina was different, of course, I could share with her, but it wasn’t something I sought out to do. Thinking of my gran, I only wished I could have brought her to a place like this for a holiday. She would have loved the gardens and the ocean views, and the stately house very much. I never got the chance to take her anywhere nice or do anything special for—

“You lived with your grandmother before you came to England when you were seventeen?” she asked from the side of the boat, cutting off my retreat into past regrets I couldn’t do anything to change.

“Yeah. In Glasgow.”

“I knew that you were a Scot because Ian used to call you Scotty when you were younger.”

“He changed his mind about it once I grew bigger than him, now didn’t he?”

She laughed. “I remember that too. Ian was so disappointed when you topped him in height.”

“By like an inch, maybe. Your brother can be an idiot sometimes.”

“Very true about Ian. But what happened to your mum?” She asked it softly, as if she were being gentle with me in case her question brought out sad feelings.

I rubbed up and down her arm to reassure her. “She had me when she was very young…just sixteen. My father was a student at the University of Glasgow when he met my mum and impregnated her. He abandoned us when she told him I was on the way. McManus was her family name, not his.”

“So, you lived in Scotland with your mother and your grandmother?” She turned away from the water and asked me directly.