Page 76 of Sunny Undone

I sit on the bed next to her. The mattress dips beneath my weight, and I shift the sheet so it just covers the waistband of her panties. Using my lighter, I light the little candle that sits on the nightstand, and it throws a warm glow over the bed.

For a moment, I simply sit and stroke her back. Her skin is soft and warm, and she sighs like Mango does on the rare occasions she lets me pet her.

I pour some oil into my palm and then put the bottle down before warming the oil between my hands.

When I lay my hands on her shoulders, she jumps a little.

“Cold?” I ask.

“Just surprised,” she mumbles.

I start to spread the oil over her shoulders and neck, but everywhere I touch feels fucking solid.

“Jesus, Indy. You’re basically concrete. And don’t start giving me some fancy answer about how you can’t be because muscles are mostly made of protein or whatever.”

“I won’t,” she says, but a smile escapes her lips. “Because they’re actually seventy-five percent water.”

I lean forward, placing my lips deliberately close to her ear. “Your ass is in the perfect spot for me to spank it.”

Her body jiggles as she chuckles.

I begin to press my thumbs carefully into the knots over her shoulder and up to her neck. Gristle crackles as I work through them. The knots are plentiful; the discomfort must be real.

But Della makes a sound into the pillow, a long, drawn-out groan.

It’s the sexiest groan I ever heard. My cock agrees, and I look up at her choice of blinds and curtains to think about anything other than her mostly naked body.

“Right here?” I ask, digging into another knot.

“Mm-hmm.”

I’m good with my hands. Always have been. Rely on them and the sense of touch to know how tight a nut should go. You don’t spend years fixing machinery without knowing how much pressure something can take.

So, I follow Della’s cues. I work from the base of her neck outward, dragging my thumbs over muscles that fight me every inch of the way. Every time I find somewhere super-tight, I work on it for a little while, but then, move on, making a note to come back for a second round later.

The lavender scent of the candle starts to warm the room, and I wonder if she’d ever let me drip wax on her one day.

Her arms relax. Her eyes close.

She sighs, softly.

I work my way down the iron rods in her back and try to loosen them.

“Want me to keep going?” I ask.

“Please,” she says, and the word escapes her on a sigh. Her eyes don’t open. Her breathing softens. And if I’m not mistaken, Della is falling asleep.

I thought sex might take her out of her own head long enough for her to relax, but the idea I can help her sleep feels even better.

Using the heels of my hands, I work either side of her spine with slow, sweeping strokes. Her skin turning faintly pink where I’ve been working as the resistance in her muscles melts away. My hands travel up as she inhales, and down as she exhales. I’m not sure when I matched her, but her breathing becomes mine.

Down the stairs, I hear the washing machine switch to a spin cycle, the low rumble getting a little louder, but Della doesn’t move.

There’s an intimacy to this that I wasn’t expecting, and I’m not even sure what happens next. Sex has momentum and a definitive end. With this, I’m just sitting here with some fancy scented oil on my hands, tracing the geography of Della’s back over and over, and yet, I’m not bored.

Tomorrow, when she wakes up, the dean’s still gonna be a dick, someone is still going to be polluting the wetlands, and she’s still not going to be able to find those missing samples.

But at least her emotions will have had time to reset. The world always seems brighter when you’ve had some rest.