Page 54 of Restoration
“What context?”
“You’re always very polite when we work together. But you don’t say please a lot in bed.”
“I don’t?”
“No. You’re still kind of bossy, you know.”
I giggle at that since his tone is warm and fond. He’s clearly not lodging any sort of complaint. “Well, that’s because you’re still kind of slow in bed. Someone has to hurry you up.”
He chuckles low in his throat and slides his hands up to my lower back, continuing to rub the tension out of my muscles. He finds new knots and works on them with hard pressure.
It feels so good I can’t help but groan again.
“What was that?” he murmurs, sliding back down to my ass.
“That was just a sound.”
“Oh. It sounded like it might have been aplease.”
I start to giggle, but it gets interrupted by another moan as he curls his fingers between my legs, massaging my inner thighs, very close to my groin.
“Definitely a please.” Edmund teases me briefly—giving me a light stroke against my private flesh—but then returns to my back.
“Edmund.”
“Yes?”
“You know what.”
“I’m working on a massage here. If you want anything else, you can ask for it.”
“You’re being mean.”
“I’m giving you a massage. How is that mean?”
“You know perfectly well.”
He’s still laughing softly, but he doesn’t break his massage. He spends a lot of time on my back and shoulders, making occasional detours down lower to keep me on edge.
I’ve always loved to see Edmund enjoying himself. Really enjoying himself—not all that empty carousing he’s so often used to fill his time. For the first few years, it happened only rarely. When he was sailing a boat. When he was visiting his extended family or the few people I’d consider his true friends. When we were on a road trip. But in the year before he started dating Kontessa, he was like this more frequently. She stomped it out almost completely, but now—on this island—he’s this way almost every day.
Who knew being stranded on an island could bring out one’s true self?
I wonder if it’s done the same for me.
Edmund pulls his hands away, and I glance over my shoulder with a silent question.
“It felt like you were slipping away from me,” he explains. “You still into this?”
I smile, letting go of the weirdly profound thoughts. “I’m definitely still into this. Don’t you dare stop.”
“There’s my bossy Autumn I know and love.”
The words are so casual that I wonder if he’s even aware of what he’s said.
He scoots higher up my body so he can work on my neck and the back of my head. It feels so good. Relaxing. Needed. I can’t help but sigh hoarsely as his hands work me over.
After a long while, he murmurs thickly, “Why don’t you turn over?”