His body was drained and weary as he lay naked in an empty bed, three days after leaving his heart in a hotel room with his Puss. Returning home without her had taken every ounce of courage he possessed. He had opened his door to silence and emptiness.
The dull ache in her butt was part of her existence, the fading blotches vanishing more and more every day along with her pain. Memory by sordid memory, she separated the misery she had suffered years and lifetimes ago with the anguish she had endured at Paul's hands.
It hurt - this thing that he had done.
Do you understand why I did it? his heart asked hers, wildly beating in counter rhythm through her own.
"Yes," she murmured across the miles - hurt feelings still dividing them.
"I'm not him, Puss," he had told her. "I don't hurt for pleasure."
"I know," she said as yesteryears' demon ghosts slinked on their bellies back to their holes.
"I want you whole," his heart pulsed. "You'll have to reassess your life, decide if you want me, too."
"I want you," she said to the voice in her heart, burying the demons into their hell, the heavy weight finally removed.
He was instantly alert when she quietly entered the house, staying in place, waiting for her. It was important that she come to him on her own. Minutes later, he held his breath and watched her enter their bedroom, a small shadow standing by the door. She removed all her clothing, loosened her hair, and approached the bed, watching him watch her.
The silence between them was their first embrace.
"Would you...? Could...I?" she repeated those long ago words, her voice a whisper in a silent room.
"My Puss," his voice growled low with relief, heart and soul rising up to greet her. Sitting up, his arms opened in invitation and she fitted herself to him, her soul and his complete again. "My sweet Puss, mia bella, my love, my own."
The earth turned, leaving the moon to wonder what they did in that darkened room - alone - with only love to light their way.
Their hands explored, once again mapping familiar territory, touching hard and soft places, caressing silk skin and firm hips, brushing soft folds and a rod of velvet coated steel. Mouths followed hands, lips rubbing and kissing all those parts that needed to be kissed and adored.
She drew him into her mouth and played him with her tongue - adagio - he growled his pleasure, hips arching forward into bliss. Her cheeks sucked and teased, her tongue swirling around the tip - allegro - his pleasure increased until she let him slip between her lips and impaled her body onto his. She rode - he bucked - she squeezed - he groaned - she gave him everything. He took it all and gave her all that was his to gift.
The tiger roared in triumph and relief, his mate was in his arms and home where she belonged.
Later, when they floated back to each other, she asked him if he would take control.
"That's up to you, my love. That's your decision to make."
"Would you...? Could...I? Could we... go slow?"
"One day at a time, mia adore, my own. We'll start again."
"When I awake - naked in your arms - My world is right...
When I feel - your breath warm upon my skin - My world is right...
When you kiss me - And my mouth meets yours - I come to life...
But when your body - fills me - and I yield to you - My soul soars...
I am yours - Now - and forever, my love."
Tune the Violin