“But I’m just kissing your neck,” Neil whispered, “that doesn’t make any sound.”
I continued looking out the window, and let out a scream about a minute later when our cab turned down what looked to be a private road.
“Who is needing a very firm “shhh” now, huh?”
I didn’t pay any attention to him. My eyes were riveted to what framed the road. Lining both sides of us were trees completely covered with white and pink blossoms. A surprise for November, but they were definitely blooming. The Autumn Cherry. It comes into bloom for a second time in autumn. All the way up the drive leading to his house.
“These are the autumn cherry trees you told me about…”
“Yes, darlin’. Aren’t they pretty?”
I didn’t answer him. I couldn’t because my vocal chords had frozen. I nodded my reply to him with my hand firmly attached to the window of the cab.
Rivers of tears were streaming down my face.
****
The next minutes were a blur as I indulged in an ugly-cry moment. Neil seemed to know what to do with me, though. Thankfully, he took charge of everything else in his life so competently, and, it seemed, me as well. He’d always had an uncanny ability to know when he needed to—the part about taking charge of me.
He paid the driver and sent him away, before leading me up the stone steps of his house on very wobbly feet.
Mansion was a much more accurate description of what I was staring at.
Four massive, white stone pillars held up the façade, which framed a beautiful door painted in a rich shade of dark blue. Yellow and grey stone, trimmed with white bricks made up the rest of it. The house was flanked by colossal pine and oak trees on a lush green park, that spread out for what seemed like miles.
He then greeted an older man, with graying hair, who appeared to be waiting at the top of the steps for us. Neil introduced him to me as Batesman, and the two of them had a small chat, while my knees felt like they would buckle at any moment. I made a valiant attempt to say hello and not frighten the poor man to an early death. Highly doubtful I could be successful on that one. Well, we would just have to wait and see if Mr. Batesman died in his sleep tonight, wouldn’t we? Wait, more importantly begged the question—Neil had a servant? In his Scottish mansion? On his frickin’ country estate?!
My head suddenly ached terribly.
I needed a ginormous glass of red and then a chaser of something much stronger. This was Scotland; maybe there were bottles of hundred-year-old Scotch down in the cellars left over from the smuggling days of Jack Sparrow and his ilk. I’d bet my sarcastic thought was closer to the mark than not.
I followed along as he led me by the hand, and felt more and more out of my element. My sense of security with him, of us, felt strangely threatened. This was all something new to me. A part of him I had no knowledge of, introduced into his life at a time when I wasn’t there. He’d learned everything of this place…without me.
I let him lead me along blindly, as I was no longer able to see anything of the inside of his magnificent house, my eyes so blurry with tears.
Neil knew what was going on with me, though. He always knew.
Without a word, he paused at the bottom of a huge staircase before scooping me up in his arms. He carried me up that marble staircase and brought me to a room with a four poster bed made up with a plush white duvet.
He laid me back onto the soft, fluffy down cover and hovered over me, his eyes flickering over my face, reading me, understanding how hard it was to let go of regret. He must have regrets, too. I knew he had them, and that they were the reasons he forgave me for mine.
“I know what you need, Cherry,” he told me, as he descended. “Let me take care of you.”
His soft lips kissed, and his warm tongue licked away every tear on my face, until any sad thought that weighed upon my conscience was set aside for that moment. He stripped me out of my clothes slowly, piece by piece, until I was totally naked and he could trail his hands and mouth over me.
Until no part of my body was left untouched. Until he’d given me too many orgasms to count. Until he’d made me feel reassured of my place with him, in Scotland. Yes, my man knew me well.
He left the bed and stripped out of his clothes. Less slowly than he’d undressed me. He was ready for me, well before his trousers landed somewhere on the floor.
When he returned, I sat up and pushed my hands on his chest, forcing him back down into the softness of the bed. “My turn.”
He smiled at me, his lips still glossy from what they’d been doing to me for the past glorious minutes, as realization dawned on his handsome face.
I got comfortable and took his thick cock in my hand, stroking up and down the velvet skin that sheathed the rock hardness underneath. I wrapped my mouth around the head of him and drew deeply, sucking to the back of my throat until I couldn’t take him any farther.
“Oh, fuckin’ fuck yes…” he growled, as I went to work on his beautiful cock.
And it was beautiful. Neil in the throes of passion was breathtaking to me. I wouldn’t say no to a picture or two if he ever offered. Golden male beauty with muscles honed to perfection, tight and straining beneath me, because of what I did to him. From what I’d made him feel. With all the love I could give to him with my whole heart.