Part Six
by SarAdora


"We have to talk about money," Spencer said over breakfast a few days later.

"I put a few thousand dollars in our joint checking account," he answered, pouring more honey on his hot cereal. "There's plenty there if you need something, sweetheart. The checkbook is in my desk; help yourself any time."

"That's for our household bills, right?" she asked, buttering a breakfast roll.

"Uh-huh and also any personal shopping you want to do. Are you changing your credit cards to your married name?"

"I have two credit cards, one for business and one for personal items and I still have the two checking accounts as well. I haven't changed the names on those yet."

"I want to pay for your personal items, baby. Why don't you close that account and...?"

"JC, I make a decent income. You don't have to pay for my purchases. I..."

"Spencer!" he growled softly, cupping her cheek. "You're my wife. I will pay for anything you want to buy." He put a finger on her lips when she started to protest. "No arguments, no discussion, subject closed. Understood?"

"What I understand," she said firmly, getting up to pour more coffee for him and get a refill on milk for herself, "is that you're being very macho and stubborn and..."

He moved to stand behind her and put his arms around her. "I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean to upset you. I just want you to know I have enough money to take care of our needs. I don't want you to spend your money on clothes and basic necessities. Call me old fashioned but I want to pay for those. I know you make a nice income but I'd rather you spent it on fabric and threads and whatever else you want. Let me take care of the necessities and the special items; you use your money for the extras."

"I want the profits from my quilting and fiber art to go into our other accounts - for retirement or vacations or big purchases. Marriage is a partnership, squidlet," she said quietly, leaning on his chest and looking up at him. "I want to contribute to it."

He pursed his lips, nodding. "Okay, let's sit and talk about this. You told me a little about your finances a few weeks ago; give me more details. I don't want you to feel you have to be dependent on me. Maybe we can compromise."

"Thank you," she smiled, knowing JC's old-fashioned values were fighting with his need to make her happy.

She outlined her income and though she recently graduated from college, she was already fairly successful as a quilt artist. "There's income from the art quilts I do for commission and I expect the scheduled gallery shows will bring in a tidy sum. Between that and the income from T-bills and..."

"T-bills?" he arched a brow.

"When I first started quilting," she explained. "I had to make sure I didn't spend every dime I had on sewing and art supplies. I had to ensure the rent was paid and that I had enough money for the basics so I put away a portion of my income every month. You know I worked my way through school?"

At his nod, she continued. "About half way through school, I was short of funds and decided to sell a few of my art quilts - pieces I had made for classes. I put an ad on the college bulletin board and someone saw it and mentioned that her mother was a collector and would I be willing to go to her house in a nearby suburb and show them to her. I did and this lady turned out to be fairly well off. Some of her friends were also there. She bought one of the pieces for far more than I anticipated and her friends bought the rest, also for a lot of money.

When I told Max about the sales, he advised me to buy a Treasury bill and to reinvest it every time it expired. I did that and had money left over to take care of my needs until I graduated. That T-bill ensured an income of a few hundred dollars each time it was reinvested. Since that first sale, I've sold a few more pieces and bought more T-bills. My plan was to sock away enough money so that I have several T-bills that would be reinvested quarterly, then monthly. Then, every month, the interest on the T-bills would take care of the basics and I would have a nest egg if I ever needed more cash. Of course it would take a few years to reach that point. I didn't know I was going to meet you and marry and... we can... rethink that, if you'd like," she said earnestly, wondering why JC was looking at her strangely.

"Do other quilt artists make as much money from their quilting as you do, sweetheart?"

"Most quilt and fiber artists I know don't do that for a living. It's a passion for them and they make money on their art but their livelihood usually comes from other sources. There are a few, of course, who create quilts and teach quilting and a few, like me, who quilt and create fiber art. The professionals write books and go on lecture tours. I suppose they live comfortably, but I don't know for sure. I'm still fairly new at this and haven't asked." Spencer slipped onto JC's lap, her need to touch him overriding everything else. "I depended on my sewing to live and to help pay for college... so I learned how to make it work for me."

"And the T-bills?" he asked quietly. "How did you come up with that?"

"Again, Max advised me to attend a few seminars on running a business without losing my shirt. He said my talent as an artist was good for the soul but the body has to eat. As it turns out, T-bills were one of the seminar tips for establishing a constant income so I could continue to eat," she smiled. "T-bills don't always pay the same amount; they depend on variable interest rates which can change rapidly. I was certain that once I got established as a fiber artist, I wasn't going to need to depend on them. But I have a few and the interest they generate is deposited into my checking account every time they're renewed."

"Well, that takes of that," JC said seriously, tilting her head back, the twinkle in his eyes the only clue that he was up to mischief. "I can retire and you can take care of me."

"I will work my fingers to the bone to make sure you always have everything you want, squidlet," Spencer said solemnly, trying not to laugh.

"The hell you will," he growled. "You can buy out Nordstrom's for all I care, but I will take care of everything you need and anything you want. Is that clear?" he glared at her, then grinned. "Fortunately, I make more money that you do." Bending her back over his arm, he sucked the hollow in her throat until she moaned. "And I already have everything I want, right here," he murmured, pulling her tighter to his chest and kissing her until she was limp in his arms.

"I love you, wife," he said later as they relaxed in front of the fire.

"And I love you, JC."

"How do you know you do, baby?" he asked in a serious tone.

"When I look in your eyes, I see everything my soul needs," she said softly, turning in his arms to look at his handsome face. "Didnít you know that? How do *you* know you love me?"

"I have always loved you, imp. I didnít know it for a while, but in the back of my mind, it was there. Then I saw you in person... that's all it took."

"The first time you saw me I was dancing on a stage," she reminded him. "You saw my legs first and my backside. That's what attracted you first. Thank goodness the rest of me was suitable or we'd never have met. Ouch!" she yelped when his hand connected with that attractive backside.

"I would have loved you even if you weren't dancing and didn't have the most beautiful bottom," JC grinned, and then turned serious. "Maybe thatís why I hunger for you all the time. I see you and I have to touch you. I touch you and I have to make love to you. When we're one," he murmured, "we're complete. Thatís how I know I love you."

"Do you believe in God, JC?" she asked quietly.

"I believe in the permanence of things."

"What does that mean?"

"Evolution feeds my rational mind, but the idea of a Creator... something greater than myself feeds my soul, my spirit. Do you believe in God, Spencer?"

"I believe in you, JC."

He didn't question her beliefs or lack of them. He had been surprised and pleased that Spencer had agreed to a marriage ceremony that included the chaplain's blessings. He had never been a regular attendee at Sunday services, but knew his belief in a greater being had sustained him during times of great stress when he needed to have faith. It was his experience that beneath the veneer of most men of war there were men desperate for peace. He knew that whatever he had done in his lifetime and regretted, the good Lord would understand and forgive.

"Why are you so good to me?" she asked later, their mood slightly pensive.

"You're good to me, too, baby," he smiled, cupping her cheek.

"In what way?" she asked, looking in his eyes.

"The way you love me, the way you show me you love me," he murmured, stroking the side of her face, his fingers drifting to her throat, slipping under the neck of her shirt, rubbing her shoulder. "The special meals you make for me, the way your eyes light up when I come home from work, the way you rush into my arms, the way you touch me." He kissed her brow, rubbing his lips back and forth across her face. "The way you take me in your mouth and pleasure me, the way you spread your legs for me, the way you let me love you. I love how you love me, baby," he said quietly, pushing her back against the couch, showing her again how much he loved her.

"Going to make you blush throughout our life time, baby," he promised, watching her face pink as his hands roamed over her. "I love the curve of your breasts, Spencer," he told her as he caressed them, his palms filled to overflowing as his thumbs rubbed the peaks. "I love the sweep of your belly," he whispered, bending her back so he could kiss her there. "And I love the mound of your sex," he mouthed her curls, his hands sweeping over her as his lips paid homage. "I love you where you love me... you're silk and soft and sweet and you belong to me."

She did belong to him. He loved her with his hands and mouth and when he finally filled her with his thick and hard need for her, she was whole again. She sucked him in, her opening slick with her juices, her inner walls grabbing his hardened shaft, squeezing him. She met his powerful hips with upward thrusts, legs tight around his waist, her hands braced on his shoulders as their bodies joined. She heard his roar when he emptied into her, her own purrs of release lost in the sound of his.

"I love you, husband," she said before her eyes closed.

"I love you, wife," he told her as he carried her to their bed.

It had been a week of eroticism. They ate royally of some of their favorite foods - shrimp cocktail, filet mignon and cheesecake and enjoyed a lot of wine. He teased her, tickled her, and chased her to her delight, loving her in one way or another each time he caught her in his arms. He spanked her regularly, the hot stinging spanks that left her dripping and begging for more. He made love to her in front of the fireplace, in the shower and over the back of the couch. Once, when he chased her, she ran up the stairs but he caught her before she got to the bedroom, loving her on the landing before carrying her to bed. One afternoon, they relaxed in the window seat in the master bedroom and when he needed to lose himself in her body, he loved her over his lap, the snow filled land witness to their joining.

She teased him, stripping at the oddest times and jumping onto his lap, urging him to love her and he always did. Unexpectedly, she'd kneel between his thighs and love him with her mouth, her hands caressing his sensitive sac while her lips and tongue brought him pleasure. Other times, he'd tease her and then dart away from her pinch, putting the length of the room between them, daring her to chase him. She always did and when he'd let her get close enough to catch him, he'd turn and scoop her up into his arms as she ran into him. A sweet spanking always occurred; sweeter loving always followed.

Waking from a nap, she straddled his chest, her breasts swaying gently, her naked body teasing him.

"Come closer, baby. I want you," he groaned, his hands on her butt, his eyes feasting on her sweet sex.

"How badly do you want me, squidlet?"

"Badly, very badly," his breath heavy, his voice ragged with desire.

"What are you going to do?" she asked when she felt his bobbing penis hitting her in the back.

"Lick you," he groaned again, pulling her to his mouth to love her. He was sheathed inside her before she calmed from her release, his cock rocking her body with his thrusts. "Ti amo, ti amo, ti amo," he swore as he filled her, his hips pumping hard, unable to temper his need for her, and unwilling to let her go.

"Are you okay, bambina? Did I hurt you?" he asked afterward, cradling her and stroking her back. "I love you, I love you," he murmured, holding her tight, his need for her resurfacing, his emotions raw and defenseless, his chest aching with his love for her.

"JC," she murmured, cupping his cheek. "I'm here, my love, always and ever, I'm here and I'm yours." Her voice soothed him, her hands caressed his face and her love filled him, calming him.

They fell into a routine of constant lovemaking, laughing, teasing, tickling, cuddling, talking and touching, playing and spanking and exploring their sexual limits. Except for a few moments of privacy, he kept her in his arms as much as possible and never out of his sight. He thought their intense need to touch each other and to make love would lessen as the honeymoon days went by, but if anything, the more he touched her, the more he wanted to keep touching.

He envisioned the months and years ahead when he would be at sea and unable to be with her and those thoughts pushed him to make memories they would both rely on when they were apart. So he touched some part of her with regularity, even standing behind her while she cooked a meal or dried her hair. He'd stroke her thighs with his bare foot while they ate a meal or spread her legs when she least expected it, kissing and licking every inch of her. And he went out of his way to make her blush.

Spencer smiled as she took care of the leftovers from lunch, wrapping and tucking them away. JC had loved her awake in his unique way, taking her into the shower to love her again soon after. It had been delicious and she thought she should initiate the next round of lovemaking. She had insisted he nap while she worked in the kitchen. He said he'd lay on the couch and read a while and to just snuggle up when she was finished in the kitchen. She tip-toed into the great room to lean over the couch to see if he was really reading. As soon as she leaned over the couch, she squealed - her sweats pulled down as JC plunged his thick cock into her heat from behind, covering her doggy style.

"You beast!" she shrieked as he picked her up after entering her.

"Did I shock you, sweetheart?" he laughed, watching the color rise on the imp's face, loving her blush. "Over the couch or the table, baby?" he asked, one hand cupping her breast as his arm held her aloft, the other between her folds. When she didn't answer right away, he lowered her to the rug, on her hands and knees and thrust into her until he touched her cervix, easing out and pushing in again.

"Is this good, sweetheart?" he murmured, holding his position inside her as his hand lifted her breast, fondling the underside and making her shiver before moving to the other one. "Do you like this, Spencer?" he asked, thrusting again as his other hand stimulated the turgid organ of her sex. He pumped in and out in gentle thrusts, his fingers like feathers over her clit, making her moan and beg him for release. "I love you, baby," he told her, balancing on his knees, pulling her back to his chest and nipping her neck. His hand pushed against her sex as he pushed in and out of her, groaning when her vaginal muscles tightened around him.

Spencer bucked back into him, her arms tensed over his, and collapsed when her orgasm took her. Intense light blinded her, the floating waves taking her away as she barely heard him murmur in her ear.

"Appartenete a me, moglie. You belong to me, wife," he murmured just before he emptied into her, growling his release.

Spencer woke up to JC's hand stroking her face. They were lying on their sides facing each other. He was looking at her, thinking. One arm was around her - her head resting on his shoulder - his hand cupping her cheek - his thumb moving back and forth across her lips - tracing her jaw and the side of her face.

She smiled at him when she opened her eyes. He didn't smile back - he just kept looking at her.

"JC?" Her voice was full of concern.

He lifted her so that her face was close to his and let his lips brush her brow. "I love you, Spencer."

"And I love you, squidlet." She pulled back to look at him. "What is it, JC? Is something bothering you?"

"No, my love," he smiled tenderly. "Nothing's bothering me. I was just watching you sleep and thanking my lucky stars for you." He wrapped both arms around her and pulled her onto his chest. And I was thanking all the Gods in the universe - of all denominations - for blessing me with you.

Later, he told her they were bound to each other. "There aren't any ropes as strong as the intangible tie of love, baby. It's the most elusive and most precious of human emotions."

"Will we celebrate our anniversaries as intensely as we celebrated our marriage?" she asked as she hugged him fiercely.

"Do you have doubts?" he asked, cupping her bottom, thinking of loving her once again.

"I believe in you, JC," she whispered, reaching up to seal that vow with a kiss.

"I believe in our love," he whispered back, "and honeymoons - lots and lots of honeymoons."

~ End ~

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