“Thanks for all the patience and perseverance you put into getting my hand back to this level of fine coordination.”
He dropped his gaze to her hand. It was true. There was no sign of clumsiness, weakness or pain as her precious hand performed her pioneering form of carnal torment.
He groaned, glided her over his aching body, grasped her hand gently and took it to his lips, thanked the fates for her, for letting him be the instrument of her happiness and well-being. “Thank you, for existing, for letting me be forever yours.”
Cybele cupped his face as he continued his homage, wondering how one being could contain all the love she felt for him.
She caressed his hewn cheek, traced the planes of his chiseled lips. “If you’re satisfied with my precision, can I apprentice at your hands in neurosurgery?”
He enfolded her and she felt as if his heart gave her the answer. To everything. “Just wish for it and it’s done, mi alma. Anything you want, the whole world is yours for the asking.”
She took his lips with a whimper, then she whispered into his mouth, “I already have the whole world. You, our baby and our love.”