Jack smiled at me. “All the galleries open on the first Thursday of the month for an evening art walk. I thought you might like it.”
The next thing I knew, Jack and I were lingering over local paintings and sculpture at the second destination on the tour. The art walk was absolutely breathtaking. The variances of art on display was a lot to take in, and I enjoyed getting Jack’s reactions. While I loved a museum, this was even better.
Gallery art was always art to be consumed in a personal way - made by someone who loved it in the hope someone else would love it too. It was like browsing an old bookstore, and seeing what narrative spoke to you that day. And the quality in Lyle was shockingly good. At least to my eye, and while I loved art, I had always gone with what I liked and what spoke to me over any specific nuance that a true art critic or aficionado might be looking for.
“Sir, care for some wine?”
It took me a moment to register that the person was speaking to me. While I certainly didn’t see myself as a “sir,” I wondered if I looked the part in my dress pants and light sweater. I took the proffered wine and felt Jack’s long fingers find mine in my other hand. I brushed a kiss against his forehead, almost without thinking, and he hummed softly in response. Catching his eye, I saw contentment. Desire, certainly, but also happiness as our foreheads briefly touched.
“Thank you for planning this Jack,” I said, pressing my lips to his. He hummed again.
“Try the wine. They partnered with a local winery. Makes we wonder why we haven’t done more to mix up what Quinn and Matt are doing at the Inn and BlackDiamond. Like a pairings menu for Valentine’s Day or something,” Jack said, forehead wrinkling.
The CEO, always thinking.
“That’s a great idea, Jack. People love that, and if you did it at both places in a different way - maybe a more casual experience at Black Diamond or something, I am sure it would be a hit.”
Jack smiled at me. “Sorry for mixing business and pleasure,” he said.
“Don’t be,” I said. “I like to hear how you think about the business. You know that.”
Jack paused, stopping at some large landscapes hanging on the opposite wall. “What about pairing wines, too,” he suggested softly. “You know, maybe some from Texas?”
I wanted to break out in a large smile. I knew what Jack was suggesting; some of the business holdings I still controlled from my grandfather included a vineyard and winery south of Waco. But, it was more than that. It was the sense of permanence that making those kinds of plans meant. I felt my chest tighten at the thought.
“If only you knew someone,” I said, afraid to do more than make a little joke. Not so much of a joke that it would come across as if I was blowing him off, but enough that I knew it would be a conversation for later.
We wound our way through the gallery and then the next, making our way through the tour into the late hour.
Jack
The thing about being an early-riser was that it was hard to turn off. Even on a weekend get-a-way, it was nearly impossible to stop my eyes from opening, flinging me awake in the pre-dawn light. I had barely moved, but Perrin’s legs moved to pull me close to where he was spooning me, his hands running across my chest and pulling me tight against him.
“Too early,” Perrin’s morning-rough voice whispered against my neck. “Don’t even think of leaving this bed, Jack,” he said. I sighed into him pressing as much of my body against his as I could, enjoying the warmth and comfort of being able to lay there like that a little longer.
His hands started to roam, and I laughed quietly as his kisses teased my neck.
“I’ll fuck you back to oblivion, if that’s what it takes,” he whispered roughly against my neck, his hands not stopping as they ran across my skin, touching everything that was begging for exactly that.
Just his words against my neck were enough to turn me on more than I already was, because last night he had certainly delivered the oblivion he now again promised - I couldn’t even remember anything after I came.
A black-out fuck, was that a thing? Like a black-out drunk, only so much better.
The promise to once again be the object of Perrin’s lust was too intoxicating, especially as his hands continued to roam, his body continued to press against mine.
I turned my head enough to kiss him, and he did, also while stroking all the parts of me that were now more accessible to his hands. Lovemaking in the morning with the person you loved most had no equal. Nothing could compare to the sweetness of taking time for pleasure before the rest of the world even had to make sense.
Words weren’t necessary. Perrin wasn’t awake enough for them.Sleepy, growly, lusty Perrin was hands-down one of my favorite ways to have him.
“Wrap your arms around my neck,” he grumbled, and I did, the position making me fully on display on my side for whatever he had in mind. In minutes he was surging into me, a hand guiding my hip to the pace he set, while I held on to his hair.
When I woke up the second time my head was against Perrin’s chest, his hands were running softly through my hair. He had made good on his earlier promise, and again I couldn’t remember falling asleep after shouting his name, but it felt so good to wake up sprawled against him with his fingers raking gently on my scalp. I pushed myself up enough so that I could brush my lips over his, and was rewarded by him pulling me on top of him, his kisses wide awake and intense as his hands never left my hair.
God, I loved when he was like this. When he was in the mood for these kinds of kisses it meant he could be content to be just like this in bed for hours, loving, fucking, talking, sleeping, and then repeating it all again.
So that is what we did, not pulling ourselves out of the lust haze until past noon.
I was dozing, but not completely asleep, so that when Perrin started to sit up, I turned to my back so I could watch him. His hair was absolutely crazy, all pillow tossed and well-fucked. A slow, lazy smile came across his face as he looked down at me.
