Devils Roses 04 - Witch

mattress manufacturers three hundred years ago. They worked wonders. And had a company called Sealy, I believe you know of them."
    She giggled nervously, "You're a dick."
    "Stupid questions Aimee. I bought a new mattress this year." He took a step toward her.
    She grinned and took a step back, "Where are we?"
    He sighed impatiently, "I told you my place."
    "Country?"
    "Italy."
    "No shit?"
    "None."
    She pointed to the painting she could see over the fireplace where the candle was lit on the bedside table next to it, "You paint that?"
    He laughed, "No uhm a very kind man named J.M.W. Turner did. I usually called him Joe."
    The butterflies in her stomach took a break as she turned away from him and picked up the candle. The painting was beautiful. It was a country estate painted in the dark with the light of the moon and stars shining down on it and a field behind it.
    "He was known as the Painter of Light." She whispered the thing she remembered the most. She'd seen another of his paintings the Slave Ship, in print of course. It was tragic and beautiful.
    "It was Marcus's home outside Colchester. Joe stayed with him for a while. He was painter in residence. We each got a painting that year."
    "You keep it here? It must be worth millions."
    He laughed and took the candle from her hand, "It is, so, maybe don’t light it on fire. It's obviously irreplaceable."
    She turned to him, "You said you didn’t have houses all over Europe and money and blah blah blah when we met."
    He laughed, "I don’t. I have this apartment and a small farm."
    She raised an eyebrow, "How small."
    He pointed to the estate house in the picture.
    She put her hands on her hips, "You have an English country estate? You said it was Marcus's"
    "Aimee I really don’t want to talk about farms and paintings and bank accounts. Marcus paid me with the house once." His bright blue eyes were smoldering in the dim firelight.
    He placed the candle on the bedside table again.
    Her stomach dropped. She could feel everything quicken.
    His hand took hers and tugged gently. She stumbled forward. He smirked.
    She frowned at his grin, "What?"
    He laughed, "We haven’t been together like this since you were sick."
    She nodded, "So."
    "I had to be gentle with you then." His voice was full of mischief.
    He pulled her hard into his arms. His mouth crushed her lips against her teeth.
    His hands ripped the shirt from her body.
    She started to laugh nervously. He stepped back and pulled his own shirt off. She stopped laughing. His body was amazing. He towered over her. He pushed her onto the bed.
    He knelt in front of her and pulled her boots off, "Why do you wear these in the summer? It's hot as sin."
    She leaned on her elbows and smirked at him, "They're my ass-kicking boots Aleks. I need em."
    He dropped the boot on the floor. She winced watching them be treated so badly. She had a special closet for them at home.
    He leaned over and pulled at the waist of her pants and slid the jeans off her body.
    His eyes sparkled in the light.
    She gasped, feeling the muggy air against her bare thighs. She hadn't noticed how warm it was.
    He leaned down and kissed her bare belly. His warm lips made her skin light on fire. The electricity of their touch hadn’t faded through his death and rebirth. She felt the energy in the air around them.
    His hands roamed her torso, caressing her softy and working up to a knead. She dragged a hand through his hair. He moaned into her stomach, "I need you Aimee."
    He kissed his way to her lips. She met his fiery kiss with passion and desire. His hands worked their way into her underwear. She felt nerves dancing inside of her, as he dragged her underwear down her thighs.
    Her brain threatened reflection but she shut it down.
    His kisses were enough. She felt her hands trying desperately to suck from him. She didn’t have to guard them. They pulled passion from him and filled her up but no life force was taken. She could feel his thoughts and desires, not like she knew them but felt them. The urgency of his hands was explained in the feeling she stole from him. He was terrified the moment would end. He wanted to savor as much as he could.
    She gripped his face, "This is it. You and me forever."
    He kissed her lips softly, "It won’t ever be enough Aimee."
    He lay on his side. She grabbed the waist of his jeans. She could feel the bulge under them, it was about to burst the jeans open.
    She smiled and undid them, releasing him. He was