Marcus always slides his arm around me and pulls me close, and I tingle every time as I feel his hand on my skin and think about what’s going to happen later.
To my delight, it turns out that Marcus is almost as much of a nerd as I am. He’s read all the books, and he also knows the movies inside out. He asks lots of questions about the filmingof each movie, and is even able to quote lines with me, which almost makes me tearful with happiness.
At the end, we get to wander through one of the Hobbit Holes and take more photos of all the rooms. Then Jolanda guides us past the big water mill and down to the Green Dragon Inn. This looks exactly like it did in the movies, and I’m lost for words again as we go inside and Jolanda orders us some non-alcoholic ginger beer.
We sip our drinks while we look around the pub and its grounds. I catch myself glancing at him all the time. He’s so handsome, and he somehow oozes wealth and confidence.
At one point, as we walk under a tree, he turns me so we’re facing away from most of the visitors, and he pushes me up against the tree and crushes his lips to mine. I let him, with a small moan, enjoying the feel of his hands as he cups my face, and the way he kisses me with such passion, as if he can’t get enough of me.
I feel as if the air between us is becoming charged again. I believe he’s thinking about what’s going to happen when we get back, too. Just the thought of what he might have planned makes me breathless.
When we’ve finished, Jolanda drives us back to the Shire’s Rest before wishing us all the best for a happy future, and goes on her way.
As he promised, Marcus then takes me to the shop, and I spend ages going through all the items for sale. At first I’m hesitant about choosing too much, but he keeps encouraging me to get more. In the end, I get several T-shirts, a hoodie, a variety of books and pencils, a wonderful small green backpack that looks as if it’s made out of dragon skin, a sun hat, and a variety of jewelry, including a pair of beautiful earrings that look like the ones that Arwen wears.
Marcus pays for it all, then takes me upstairs to the café for some lunch. I’m still quite full from my huge breakfast, so I just ask for a slice of chocolate cake and an iced coffee, and he has a piece of lemon meringue pie, and we eat those while we look through our purchases, as he’s also bought a couple of tees and a paper knife that looks like Gandalf’s sword for himself.
When we’ve finished our lunch, we walk slowly back to the car and then Marcus drives us back to the farm, promising that over the next few days we’ll do some sightseeing, and visit the Waitomo Glowworm caves and the town of Rotorua, known for its geothermal activity, mud pools, and geysers.
“I’ve had such an amazing day,” I tell him as he draws up out the front of the house and turns off the engine.
“And it’s not over yet.” He slides off his sunglasses and then winks at me.
Ohhh… I get out of the car, suddenly breathless again. But this time it’s not so much with nerves as with excitement.
We go inside, into the cool kitchen, each take a bottle of water out from the fridge, and have a few mouthfuls, watching each other. Marcus screws the lid back on his, his lips curving up. “What would you like to do?” There’s a touch of mischief in his voice. “Have a rest? Read a book? Do a jigsaw puzzle?”
I put the lid back on my bottle. Then, without saying another word, I push him back against the counter, reach up on tiptoe, lift my arms around his neck, and kiss him.
He laughs and wraps his arms around me, and we indulge in a long, passionate embrace, skipping the butterfly kisses and going straight to the full tongue, five-out-of-five, heart racing stage.
It’s only when something occurs to me that I finally move back and say, “Oh… I’ve just thought… do you mind if I have a shower first?” I’m not yet comfortable enough with him to let him do intimate things to me while I’m all hot and sticky.
He cups my cheek and brushes a thumb over my mouth, his eyes half-closed with desire. I expect he’ll refuse… and then he says abruptly, “Good idea,” takes my hand, and marches off to the bedroom with me running to catch up.
He takes me straight into the bathroom, turns on the shower, and closes the cubicle door to let it heat up. Next, he grabs a handful of his tee at the back of his neck, tugs it over his head, and tosses it unceremoniously onto the floor. Then he pulls me toward him and kisses me while he starts undoing the buttons of my top.
I realize what he’s intending, and my eyes widen. “Oh,” I say as he peels my top over my shoulders. “You mean… we’re having a shower together?”
He chuckles. “Don’t tell me you’ve never done it.” He looks at my face, though, and a look of disbelief and then exasperation crosses his features. “Jesus. Well, their loss, my gain. Come on, gorgeous. We’re going to have some fun getting all wet and slippery.” He growls and kisses my neck, then begins undoing my cut-downs.
I let him, excited and a tiny bit panicky at the thought of standing naked with him in broad daylight without the comfort of being under the covers and in semi-darkness. My fear starts to recede, though, as I see the look on his face as he slowly reveals my body. Admiration and desire light his features as he lets my cut-downs drop and brushes his fingers over my tiny knickers. Then he slides his hands around my back, undoes my bra, and pulls the straps down my arms. He lets the bra drop, his gaze fixed to my breasts as he pushes my knickers down my legs, and I step out of them.
I wait for him to kiss me, but, lifting his gaze to mine, he undoes his jeans and steps out of them, then adds his boxer-briefs to the growing pile of discarded clothes. Now we’re bothnaked. He opens the cubicle door and gestures for me to go in, follows me, and slides the door shut.
The shower cubicles here are large, with plenty of room, but Marcus seems to like pretending they’re compact, because he pulls me toward him beneath the water, so our bodies are flush. He already has an erection, and I can feel it against my belly as the water cascades over us, but he ignores it as he dips his head into the water to wet his hair.
“You do me first,” he says, and he tips some shampoo onto my palm and bends his head for me to wash it for him.
I massage the shampoo into his hair, enjoying the task and being able to do something for him for a change. He sighs, apparently liking the feel of my fingers on his scalp and the slight scrape of my nails. So I slow it down, taking my time, massaging the hair at the edge of his temples, behind his ears, the longer hair on top, and the short bristly strands at the back.
I rinse it, then bring my hands around to his face. He’s usually clean shaven, but he obviously hasn’t shaved since yesterday, and he has a day’s worth of growth. He lets me admire it and run my fingers over his top lip and up his jaw.
“Have to be careful not to give you bristle burn,” he says, and smirks.
I smile, but I say, “I like it.”
“Then I’ll keep it. While we’re on vacation, anyway.” He bends his head and kisses me, then turns me so I’m under the shower spray.
