Fields of Clover

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Chapter TWELVE

Yevette Feilds

"It wasn't a mistake, Patrick.." Your voice trembles a little as you admit the truth. That you had spied on him last night, that you had seen him, in his naked glory.. That you had liked it and lingered to watch him stroke himself in languid gratification..

"No.. You've made no mistakes 'ere, princess.. But I have.. Too fucking many.. Includin' not kissin' you when I had the chance.." He spins back to face you, taking your legs in his large warm hands and uncrossing them, moving his body between your knees and sliding your butt forward to the edge of the counter..

Your hips press into his, your heated center crushed against his hardened manhood, separated only by a few layers of fabric.. "So, why don't you kiss me now instead?.." You coo gently, trying your best attempt at a sultry, seductive tone..

He pulls back, those baby blue eyes searching yours, for what you aren't sure.. His face is unreadable..

He cuts off your question with his lips. His kiss crashing down over you like a lusty tial wave, stealing the breath right from your lungs, your hands slide up and through his soft, flaxen locks.. Your body rushes to life in new ways, your skin prickling with excitement, your femininity throbbing with a ravenous desire..

You can taste the barley, hops and spices on his tongue as he sweeps the seam of your already parting lips.. Your hands wander over the steely contours and hard angles of his board shoulders and back, as his fingers find their way to the hem of your over-sized sweater. He pulls the cream knit up over your head, revealing the simple black crop and brief set you wear underneath..

His eyes immediately move to inspect the thirty or so pock-mark like scars on your ribs and sides.. You wrap your arms around yourself to cover them, but he gently lifts your hands away.. "Yevie.. What is this?.." His voice is strained, tortured..

"Oh, um..Surgical scars.. I know they are hideous, I can keep them covered if you'd pref--"
That's not entirely a lie, still you hate yourself for saying it.. While some of your scars are from the recent attack and subsequent surgery, others you've had for much, much longer..

"No, Yevie.. You're beautiful.. You're perfect, princess.." His voice is low and gravelly, sending shivers through you while he gazes at you admiringly.. "But, incase ya didn' notice, cus' you were probably too distracted when you were checkin' me out last night.." He winks and yanks his shirt up over his head and turns to show you his back..

You gasp.. His scars hadn't been visible in the low lighting last night, but now up close you see the faded silver strands that mark his back, from his shoulders to below his belt line.. Hundreds of them, layed over the top of one and other as though he had been severely lashed, over and over again.. You reach out trailing your fingertips along one of the larger scars.. The sight is enough to bring tears to your eyes.. "Patrick.. I hate that you have seen so much suffering.."

He chuckles and turns back to you with his dazzling dimpled grin.. "And that's why you're so damn perfect, princess.. After everythin' you've been through and yer worried about me? That's jus' ridiculously sweet.."

You sigh, feeling the burdensome weight of your recent lie by omission.. You had really wanted to be done lying to him.. But sometimes it's not so easy to admit the truth..
Not just to others, but to yourself.. "I wish I saw myself through your eyes, Patrick.. I wish I felt like the person you seem to see.."

He takes your hands, pressing a tender kiss to each.. "I see exactly who you are, princess, no doubt about it.." His hands skim up and down your arms, as he leans down for another kiss, this one softer, and sweeter.. You fall deeper and deeper into the feeling of lust that has consumed your senses..

You're so far gone that you almost jump out of your skin when your phone, that is plugged into a charger at the power outlet next to you, rings loudly..

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