Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 106646 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106646 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
He gives my pussy a little tease with his finger before he pulls away, as if promising it more attention later. "Not over nothing. It was not good the first time for you, and I did not realize. There was no reason for you to think it would be good a second time."
"Yeah, but a lot of my worry stemmed from me thinking I was too small to have sex with you, and that your dick was too big to be fun for anyone."
"Not true. I always have fun with it."
I snort-giggle at that. He's such a doofus, but I adore him. Every moment of tonight, I've felt pretty and cherished and so, so loved. "Well, I appreciate you making it fun for me."
"I had to think of much pottery," he agrees solemnly. "It was very difficult."
"Such a sacrifice," I tsk, teasing a circle around his nipple. "I'm so lucky to have you."
"Pottery shards," I agree. "Mud and ash and broken pottery and clay and all those things."
I smile absently, lost in thought. "You thought about it because you find it unsexy?"
"Because I know how hard you work, and the thought of you frustrated over when it does not work right makes my cock sad." He rubs my back. "So I tell myself about mud and pottery pits and things like that so I can last longer."
I almost laugh at his words…and then it hits me. I prop up on an elbow next to him, frowning. "Did you say a pottery pit?"
A'tam looks confused. "Yes. Why?"
"I…haven't done a pottery pit? Is that different than the fire?" I feel a hint of excitement but quickly stuff it down. It could be nothing.
He thinks for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. "My mother…she dug a long, narrow pit. I remember it now. She would fill the pit with fluff and slow-burning bits, and then built a fire perched atop them. Once the fire burned down to nothing, she cleared it all away and dug out her pots." He looks a bit dumbstruck. "I have just now remembered."
I drum my fingers over my mouth, excited. One of the problems with my pottery is that I can't get the temperatures just right. It's like the moment cool air hits it, the pottery shatters. Or the fire doesn't stay hot enough long enough—or it gets too hot too fast.
But a fire over the pottery…it would keep it warm the entire time and slowly cool it, much slower than if it just sits alongside the fire.
I jump to my feet, excited. "This could be it, A'tam!"
The moment I am on my feet, he grabs me by the skirt I've forgotten I'm wearing and tugs me back down into the furs again. I make a sound of protest, but…not all that hard. I like being in bed with him.
"If it is it," A'tam points out, wrapping his arms around me, "then it will wait until morning. I am not done with my mate." He rolls his weight over me and pins me down to the furs, a roguish smile on his face. "Do you hear that?"
I listen carefully. "Hear what?"
"My khui. Your khui."
I concentrate…and I realize we're still humming. It's been with me for so long that I didn't realize it was still going. "Oh. We're still resonating?"
He nods, assuming a grave expression. "It means we must try again."
"Oh no," I mock-pout, though the idea not-so-secretly thrills me. "Must we?"
"I shall make the very big sacrifice of putting my very large cock inside your very tight cunt again." He shakes his head. "It is so difficult to be me."
I smack his arm, laughing. "Oh please. You're loving every minute of this."
"And you are not?" He takes one of my breasts and palms it, toying with the nipple.
"I didn't say that."
A'tam slides down my body and lowers his head so he can suck on one of the tips of my breasts. I moan, holding onto his head as he teases it into a stiff, aching peak. "Do you still want to go do pottery?"
"It can wait," I breathe. "For a little while, at least." I run my hand through his hair. "And this time, I want to look at you when we come."
His growl of pleasure makes my toes curl with delight.
Epilogue
One Month Later
BRIDGET
I cradle the pot in my hands.
It's a hideous thing. The lip isn't even in the slightest, wandering up and down as if drunken. The base is a little too flat, and the rounded belly I tried to give the pot is less round and more square. Firing the pot has just exacerbated the fact that it's ugly as shit and is showing off all the flaws.
But it's the most beautiful thing I've ever made, and I hug it to my chest as hot tears splash from my eyes.