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It's time for more romance. Today we have issue eight of my multicultural romance serial Wind in White Birch. Our word prompt this week is 'Ring' Please check out the other wonderful writers after you`re done reading by clicking on the Tuesday Tales link at the bottom. Thanks for stopping in!
Wind in White Birch
The next morning found me curled up with one of the handsomest men I know. He smelled like chocolate milk and sweaty boy. I hugged Rhett close and watched the sun waking up. Pinks and purples tinted the frosty pane. I didn`t recall my son crawling in with me after Jonah had left for his place across town. Andy had gotten me settled into a spare room then retired. Rhett had been placed in a bedroom that Andy`s young grandson`s used when they were here, complete with bunk beds. Must be my son woke up in a strange room and wandered around, peeking into rooms until he found me.
A wonderful smell crept in the door standing ajar. I couldn`t resist. I slid from the covers and pulled a thick blue robe over my flannel pajamas. A quick trip to the small bath attached to the guest room and then I headed out, following the tendrils of freshly brewed coffee like a bloodhound on the trail of a convict. Andy was sitting at a round kitchen table sipping at coffee in a heavy ceramic mug.
“Morning,” he said with a smile that showed perfect teeth. “Coffee`s ready,” he motioned at the maker on the counter with his cup. I didn`t delay in accepting his offer and soon had my own green ceramic mug of creamed and sugared.
“This is delicious,” I sighed, sitting down across from him.
“I mix two different kinds of roasts, but what they are is a secret,” he said with a wink. I smiled and sipped, enjoying the calm serenity of a winter morning with an old friend. “So, you and Jonah are hitting it off good?” he asked nonchalantly, his thick silver eyebrows trying not to climb up in curiosity and give him away. I swallowed and blushed, nodding gently as the heat ran to my ears. Andy seemed pleased with my reaction. “Good, good. I`m pleased he and you are seeing each other. I want you to know that there are some who will look down at you and him dating.”
“Oh we`ve run into one of those already,” I frowned then relayed what happened with Rhick the previous night. Andy leaned back in his chair, saying little as the story unfolded. His robe was dark blue and as furry as his eyebrows.
“Glad to hear he kept his temper mostly in check,” he said, running a hand over a face deeply etched with life. “You won`t just get that from the whites though. You may run into resentment from Native`s as well. There are lots of people that think we shouldn`t pollute our genes with white blood.”
I blinked at him. “I never knew that,” I whispered into my coffee mug.
“Intolerance isn`t limited to just one race,” Andy said then tipped his head when the crunch of tires could be heard out front. From somewhere under the table the pug exploded. A moment later Jonah filled the doorway, his grandfather`s dog attached to his pant leg.
“Yeah, want to call off Achilles here?” Jonah grumbled, jerking his open palm at the dog tugging on him. A giggle broke free that I quickly buried in a gulp of coffee. One dark eyebrow crept up Jonah`s brow. Andy exhaled dramatically then rose with the help of his cane.
“Release,” the elder Big Deer said. Achilles did as asked, his tiny tail curled up over his back saucily.
Off Andy went, followed by his attack pug. I followed Jonah with my eyes as he cruised across the kitchen, his goal the coffeemaker. He was a sight to please any woman`s eye. His hair was neatly braided, his coat was on the back of Andy`s seat, his jeans were snug across his ass and thighs, and his long-sleeved blue and grey tee hugged his barrel chest nicely. I had to make myself stop staring at his backside while he poured a mug of special Big Deer brew. I focused on my coffee. His fingertips tickling across the nape of my neck made me leap.
“Damn it, stop doing that!” I squeaked, coffee slopping over the side of my mug. He chortled impishly as I rose in a tiff and stalked to the sink. “Just how the hell does a man as big as you sneak around so quietly?” I asked, rubbing at my right breast with a wet sponge.
“Seneca warrior blood,” he purred, one arm sliding around my waist. The sponge flew from my hand. Jonah chuckled as I sputtered in aggravation. He then ran his lips over my jugular. My fingers clamped onto the edge of the sink. “You taste good.” His words vibrated through the throbbing vein. My legs grew rubbery.
“Jonah,” I whispered weakly in warning. His left hand splayed over my trembling stomach.
“Dana,” he responded playfully, the edge of his teeth scraping over the delicate skin of my neck. “So sexy,” he added, licking a fiery path to my earlobe then taking the dangling little nub between his teeth. He suckled. I melted. The dots of coffee on my robe were forgotten when his hand massaged my abdomen. “You think it`s funny the man you`re dating gets attacked by a watch dog?”
“A watch pug,” I corrected.
“A pug is still a dog. He could have torn my ankle off.”
“Good thing Andy was here to save your ankle,” I commented, leaning back into his embrace.
He cinched me close into the ring of his arms. It was a lovely moment, standing at the sink, watching the sun breaking through the naked trees to turn the snow-covered yard into a shimmering blanket of diamonds.
“You ready to go see what I want to show you?” he asked a few moments later. My hands were resting on the thick forearm holding me close. I shook my head. He made a boyish sound of impatience.
“I haven`t even showered or had breakfast yet,” I chided, smiling at the new day. It had been far too long since I greeted a day happily held in a man`s arms. Jonah pecked my cheek before stepping away. I turned to quirk an eyebrow at him.
“Go get a shower. I`ll make breakfast and wake Rhett up,” he said, already at the fridge.
“Rhett should shower too,” I said, recalling the somewhat sour aroma of the bundle in my bed. Jonah waved his hand at me dismissively, his head inside the Frigidaire.
“Nah just wet his head and call it good. He`s a little boy. They don`t bathe for weeks if memory serves,” he said. I wanted to argue but the view of that tight ass of his negated my maternal protests. Also, if I was being honest, I was really curious to see this big exciting secret of Jonah`s.
“Okay, but he must take a bath tonight or he`s not sleeping with me,” I announced with proper motherly conviction.
Jonah jerked his upper half out of the refrigerator, a carton of eggs in his big hand. “Is that one of the prerequisites for being able to sleep with you, Dana?” he inquired, his black eyes igniting as he spoke.
My brain slid into the naughty zone. My tongue suddenly felt knotted. I suspected this was a game that Jonah liked to play to see just how flustered he could make me. Well, two could play at this little verbal competition.
“Yes it is, why? Do you go to bed dirty?” I countered smoothly. I was so proud.
“No, I`m always clean when I crawl into bed,” the man responded. “It`s what happens after I get between the sheets that makes me dirty.”Oh dear. I searched my mind for the witty repartee file. All I located was the smutty fantasy file. It was a fat file with X-rated images of Jonah and I having wicked sex wound in a damp sheet. “Part of the art of dialog is that the other person responds verbally and doesn`t just stand there, hand at throat, lips parted slightly, staring at the ceiling,” Jonah remarked a moment later.
My hand fell to my side. My mouth opened and closed three times. I spun around and stomped back to my room, Jonah`s hearty laughter nipping at my heels like Achilles the watch pug.
Copyright 2013 ©by V.L. Locey
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