Madison’s thumbs rubbed over mine. Her hands were warm. Soft.

“Did she always drink?”

“No. Not until my father was gone.”

Her voice went softer. “Losing someone like that is hard, Julian. You know it is.”

“Yeah I know,” I admitted. “But she had kids, and that’s different. You have to be strong for them,” I added angrily. “You’ve got to.”

She let me vent, and that was good also. A lot of this had been inside for a while. It needed to get out.

“My brother was only a year old when my father passed,” I said. “He doesn’t even remember a time when she wasn’t a sullen, sobbing wreck.”

I cleared my throat and pushed my beer away. All of a sudden I was through drinking.

“Anyway, the more we hung out in the yard, the more we preserved my father’s memory. It was almost like being with him again. Having the same fun we used to have when he was alive, talking about him, laughing as we recalled old stories and funny things he used to do, like throw us in the pool and pretend to fall in himself.”

Madison was smiling through her tears. She chuckled softly. “Your dad sounds awesome.”

“He was.”

“Is.” She squeezed my hand. “You’re preserving his memory, remember? That doesn’t ever go away.”

I choked — literally choked — on the softball that had formed in my throat. Her words touched my heart.

“Long story short, the stonemason — Jackson, his name was — he brought me over here. ‘Lots of work in Scotland’, he said, ‘putting stuff back together’. Everything’s ancient on this side of the ocean. Everything’s crumbling.”

“And so here you are…” she smiled.

“Here I am.”

Madison abruptly stood and took my hand in hers. I let her pull me from the chair. Press the softness of her feminine body tightly against mine.

“Come upstairs with me,” she murmured, running her hands up my chest. I stiffened instantly under her delicate touch, her eyes making all sorts of wicked, wanton promises. “And let me show you how grateful I am to you for finishing my wall.”

Thirty-Four

MADISON

I spent the better part of an hour, just rubbing him down. Massaging every muscle in his hard, gorgeous body, with a combination of my hands, fists, and elbows.

Julian lay prone across my bed, every inch of his skin glistening with reflected candlelight. I’d spent time on his shoulders… his arms… his lower back, which I figured had to be sore from all the lifting and setting.

But those parts were for him. For me, the payback came as I slid even lower, my hands smoothing over the well-oiled bubble of his amazingly firm ass.

He’s got muscles on top of muscles!

I let my fingers wander, beneath the lower curve of his glutes. Dragged the tips of my nails lightly over his sun-bronzed skin, right down between his slightly parted legs…

His balls were heavy and full in my hand. I cupped them gently, feeling them slip into the pool of warm oil I had in my palm…

“That feel good, baby?”

The two-hundred pound stonemason grunted unintelligibly into my pillow. I had him now. He was putty in my hands…

“Roll over,” I said seductively. “And let me work on your front.”

Julian lay there a moment longer, letting me play with his balls from behind. Then he slid an arm underneath and used it to push himself onto his back. His magnificently warm cock popped free, presumably in anticipation of all the fun it was about to have.

Tags: Krista Wolf Erotic
Source: readsnovelonline.net