Page 70 of The Hangman's Rope

Her smile was as gentle as the moon’s, her eyes emitting the same soft light when she said, “I’m more than alright with it. Thank you.”

“For what?” I asked.

“Being gentle with me,” she murmured. “For…” she hesitated and I cocked my head. She sounded almost scared and uncertain when she said, “For loving me?”

It sounded like a question, but there was no question about it.

I pulled her tight against my chest and held her close, tucking her head beneath my chin which was nice that she was so tall and I could do this without having to hunch over like a motherfucker.

“You’re welcome, Sweetpea, and you don’t have to ask. I love you. How could anyone help themselves around you? You’re perfect.”

She giggled a little and slapped fingertips against my arm and I laughed softly too, kissing the top of her head. It wasn’t a line of bullshit, though. I loved her quiet yet indomitable spirit. I loved her strength and how she handled herself. I loved her soft voice and her even softer hands, and I loved that she trusted me when she honestly had no reason to.

I loved her. To the point I would protect her with my life from here on out, and to the point that I was dead set on getting her the revenge she so richly deserved. The justice that only myself, my brothers, and the street could provide her.

I would protect her from all comers. Be it the rich assholes who’d stripped her of her sense of safety, worth, or whatever else she’d felt she’d lost in their violation of her body – or the citizen’s justice system, who would more than likely just victimize her all over again only to let the assholes off with a slap on the wrist – because let’s face it. That’s how these things went. Money talked, and there were more of them than there were of Lorelai and the more of them the more money they had which could afford the best and most expensive lawyers while all she would get is some worn out prosecutor willing to plea deal shit down to nothing in order to keep a loss off their record before putting in any actual sweat into her case.

I showered with my sweet girl, washed her from head to toe, kissed her, lavished her with attention, and felt like a king for it. She returned the favor, washing me, her hands slick with soap jerking me off again, and watching those pearl jets of cum splash against her fair skin only to be rinsed away by the cascade of water over her beautiful body did something else to drive me wild.

My body may have been spent, but God damn, was she a feast for the eyes as well as every other sense she would let me partake in when it came to her.

We took turns drying each other’s hair with the hair dryer, and I went to my knees in front of her so she wouldn’t have to reach. This put me at the perfect height to lavish her heavy round breasts with attention from my tongue and teeth. It turned into a fun game of seeing how well I could distract her from her task and I mentally scored points every time she paused, eyes slipping shut, hands stilling on my head, her fingers still caught in the long strands of my hair as she closed her eyes and stood still, lapping up the attention and letting go to enjoy my touch.

Eventually, we were both dry enough to go to bed, and God was that a thrill, settling down beneath the cooling crisp sheets of my bed, Lorelai snug against me, half draped over my body like some ornate decoration fit only for a king.

We drowsed, we played lightly with each other’s bodies, and eventually we slept and it was the best damn sleep of my fucking life.

It wasfull and deepest night when I woke, uncertain as to what exactlyhadwoken me. That was until Lorelai shifted beside me. I looked down and asked, “You alright?”

She yipped, startled, and then let out a laugh.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “What’s wrong? Bad dream?”

“No,” she said snuggling close into my embrace. “I just woke up and can’t sleep, now.”

“I gotcha,” I said and gave her a little squeeze kissing the top of her hair. “You hungry? Thirsty?”

She shook her head at the first question, but paused at the second and I said, “Let’s get you something to drink.”

We got up, and dressed – sort of. I handed her the long nightgown that’d been bought for her and she found the ballet slipper flats to go along with them. I pulled on a pair of shorts and nothing else.

We went out to the kitchen and she asked, “Do you have tea?”

I smiled and nodded, and took down a box of assorted tea bags and snickered when she made this face like I’d just told her I’d fucked her grandma.

“Right, this is what I’ve got for tonight – but we can for sure go to whatever tea snob shop you can find around here and get you some proper tea any day now.”

She smiled at that lifting out bags and reading the labels and said, “You do know the way right to a girl’s heart,” she said lightly but dryly.

I considered that. I’d never been accused of being a romantic before… but with her, I kind of liked it.

I put the kettle on the stove top to boil, once I’d dug it out of the back of the cabinet it was stored in. I didn’t have much occasion to use it, until now. It was some fancy copper thing that matched the warm, copper toned, backsplash behind the stove. The kettle could use a fucking polish – but I didn’t know shit about those kinds of things.

“Okay,” Lorelai said softly when she caught sight of the kettle. “Your tea capital just went up. That’s gorgeous.”

I laughed and she smiled sliding a bag of the tea from the box across the counter at me.

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