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An ancient evil awakens.

He pressed his weight against her butt, pinning her against the sink as he kissed her neck, sending ripples of heat through her, an urge to return the attention, to be felt and feel. . . Sarah cupped the back of his skull, letting out a sigh only he could make her whisper. He drank deeply from her scent and kissed her ear. "You're my fey queen."

"Don't." Sarah breathed. "Don't do that. . ."

"But it's true," Ithric whispered into her ear as his hands slid up to her heavy breasts. His palms cupped her sensitive nipples, pressing on her even more. She grabbed his wrist looking back at him, the father of her child and the only man she'd ever actually loved. . . It pained her to pull his hand away, but she knew better than let this go on.

"Please?"

"Please what?"

She kissed his neck. "I know you like it, but it's- it's just. . ." In a weak twist of focus, she offered a lame smile. "You don't want your palms coming back wet, do you? Or your shirt, for that matter- this is your shirt, after all."

"Shh." The sailor wrapped his arm around her belly again, his free hand cupped her shoulders and despite her initial resistance, he pulled her in close. "It's okay. . ." Without waiting for an invitation, he drew back enough to place his hand on her back, tracing familiar scars by memory. He wasn't put off by the ugly ridges and valleys the scourge had left on her, no, he held her firmly and continued to stroke her back for several moments, breathing through her coppery hair and into the nape of her neck. Finally he leaned her forward to where she had been, looking out the window. There was no shame or remorse in his touch, nor from her when he ventured too low and slid his hand between her cheeks.

No. . . There were no boundaries now. Sarah Kettar looked up at him, even as she felt his fingers glide down her rump, gliding down into places they aught not be. He pressed against her nether lips, sliding one finger between them with a dangerous sigh across her ear. She licked her lips, swallowed. "Trying to make a second one already?" She whispered, inclining her head to their sleeping daughter. "Give me some rest, dear."

"You're the one who never lets me pull out." Ithric chuckled softly and pressed his weight against her that little bit more, nuzzling into her neck, he whispered, "You have another idea?" With his lips to her throat, he added: "Something we can both enjoy."

Sarah leaned back against him. She stole a brief glance at the spice rack. Almost immediately her cheeks were burning as she reached for the olive oil. There had been a few times where they'd done things in such a fashion- what could have gone wrong? She giggled secretly and popped the cork with her teeth, turning the bottle over to take a bit to her finger tips. With a glance back, Sarah took Ithric's belt sash and undid it. A rush of heat greeted her hand even as she slid his pants down a bit and started to slather the tip of his quickly hardening member with it.

She leaned forward enough to have to look up at him once more, heart already slamming against her ribs as she fought for breath, "We'll need to be quick, she could wake up at any time."

"I only need two minutes."

Sarah gawked at him. "Really, Ithric?"

He grinned.

"You're terrible." She swatted him playfully. Her breath backed up when Ithric pushed her forward with a firm hand between her shoulders, leaving her with only enough time to choose; grab the sink edge and submit fully or hold the window sill in hopes that she'd be able to do something for him.

It wasn't much of a question; Ithric knew what it took to make her tremble and he knew how much pressure to apply- in seconds his oiled up finger was pressing against her rosebud and Sarah felt her control slip that much more. She dug her fingers into the sill, teeth clenched. It had been so long, she wasn't in any state to resist. . .

He knew it, too.

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