Love Takes Time

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“Good morning Mrs. Browning” John said in his velvety slow voice.

“Good morning John,” she replied with the ease of one who was talking to a long familiar employee “How are the children doing?”

“Fine Ma’am Beth is doing well in college and Sky’s practice is taking off” he answered her with an obvious pride. John had worked for Amanda Browning for almost thirty years now. He had been there through the birth of her child and had been the rock she clung to when a drunken driver took her beloved husband.

“John,” she said with some asperity “Do you think, just once, you could call me Amanda? It is really not a difficult name” His eyes crinkled at the long-standing joke. “Certainly Mrs. Brown,” he laughed, “I’ll get to it sooner or later.”

She watched him as walked away, off to tend the million things it took to keep a gentleman’s farm running. Almost involuntarily she looked at the solid width of his shoulders and back as they tapered to his slender waist. Almost fifty his long hair was gray now and he was quite proud that he had never given in to the temptation to dye it. She could not help but notice how fluidly he moved striding with a pace that kept men half his age panting to keep up. Sighing she turned back to her own work managing the details of all the charities and philanthropic organizations her husband had left money too. “Millions” she thought wryly “a fortune breeds a ton of responsibility”

It was approaching midnight when she left her shower and wrapped herself in her silk dressing gown. By chance she looked out to the caretakers cottage and was startled to notice the light was on. Concern flooded her she knew John was an early riser and so tended to retire early as well. Quickly she slid her feet into slippers and pulled a jacket over her nightclothes.

She got to the window, suddenly feeling silly, and decided to look in ” After all” she reasoned “He is an attractive widower, maybe he is entertaining” Telling herself that she was being foolish she peeked into the window. John was sprawled on the floor.

Even years later she did not remember opening the door. It seemed to her as though she materialized at his side, Ataşehir Escort bending to check him for injuries and recoiling slightly at the smell of alcohol on him.

“What the?” she thought, confused ” I have never known John to drink more than a single glass” Then she saw it. Sitting on his table the faded yellowing obituary of his wife. Tears leaked from her eyes as she remembered that day, the birth of his youngest daughter, and the fatal blood infection that took away his wife.

“Simone” she heard him call drunkenly “Honey please, I miss you so much…”

“John” she said tenderly ” its me, Amanda, c’mon lets get you to bed.”

The sunrise found her sitting quietly in his kitchen. She had cleaned up the spilled whiskey and the tattered newspaper clipping, respectfully putting the photo and the article into the folder he had left on the table. She jumped slightly as she heard the shower turn on in the small bathroom adjacent to his bedroom.

Rising smoothly she cracked several eggs into a battered cast iron skillet and put bread into the toaster. A moment later he emerged, dripping and slightly blue, from what had obviously been a medicinal shower and walked into his kitchen clad in a bathrobe.

“Mrs. Browning, ” said softly, shame bringing a measure of color to his cheeks.

“John” She interrupted, firmly and decisively, cutting off his obvious start at an apology. ” I understand what you went through, I was there, remember? ” he nodded mutely. “And when Lawrence died you spent many nights with my tears on your shoulder, and don’t you dare say that it is different for men. Now I don’t want to hear an apology or see any regrets about you being human. Do I make myself clear?”

“Ma’am if I don’t get those boys out to the fields and working on the irrigation ditches, there’ll be hell to pay.” He said looking into her eyes smiling.

“Mrs. Browning” she heard him rumble softly as he paused at the door ” Thank you”

That afternoon found her in her study as her foreman walked in. She was, rather out of character for her, clad in a loose cotton sweatshirt and pants. They pale soft pastel blue Ataşehir Escort Bayan a radical departure from her customary black.

“Your kitchen chair is not exactly the most comfortable place I have ever slept,” she responded to her foreman’s raised eyebrow. ” I am stiff all over,” she teased playfully.

“Mrs. Browning let me show you something Sky taught me.” He moved around her chair and began to knead her shoulders with strong, callused hands. She marveled at how wonderful his touch was and moaned softly. Slowly with strong sure strokes he began to knead lower down her back as she leaned her head onto the desk.

” My God John” she gasped softly “you are better than the 150 dollar an hour masseuse who comes out here. Where did you learn this?”

“Well you know Sky needed to practice and I reckon I have as much time in those classes as she does” he stammered.

“John.” she said in a rising note, recognizing his attempt at evasion.

“I practiced on the horses.” He admitted ruefully.

“The horses?” She exclaimed incredulously, beginning to titter, then to laugh.

“Ma’am if you like, ” he said to her ” I will try to work the kinks out of your back” He was actually roaring with laughter now. ” even though ya only have 2 feet”

Wordlessly she rose and took his hand in hers and led him to long divan. “I’ll take you at your word” she said lying down on her stomach. Gently, with just the right amount of pressure he began to knead her tight muscles. His strong hands were cushioned by the cloth of her sweat suit rather than hampered by it. He stroked her long and lovingly, pressing into tired muscles, rejuvenating them. After about an hour of luxuriating in his attention, she turned over and sat up.

He extended his hand to help her to her feet and she rose, stepping close to him her right hand rested lightly on his chest while her left still had not relinquished his hand. She looked up into his jade green eyes as he stared down into her soft brown ones.

“Amanda….” He breathed softly, his mouth parted slightly as their lips met. She slid her arms around his neck and returned his Escort Ataşehir kiss with a sudden fervor that surprised her. His huge strong arms slid around her narrow waist making her feel doll like and fragile. Their tongues danced together as she became light-headed in his embrace, reveling in his strength and almost over-powering masculinity.

“My God” she thought, almost incoherent” Where did he learn to kiss?”

Gently with complete control and amazing ease he picked her up into his arms and laid her softly back down on the divan. He knelt along side it and began to run his hands over her exploring and kissing her. She gasped softly as he unzipped her shirt and his warm sucking kisses trailed across her exposed flesh. Tenderly, almost reverently, he took a nipple into his mouth. She gasped as tingling fire shot through her. His hands and lips moved downward to her stomach, sliding her pants down as he cupped the moist flesh of her aching, longing pussy. Gently he lowered his head to the throbbing temple of her femininity and slowly, languorously he began to lick.

Amanda felt as though she would melt from the inside out as heavenly sensations unfelt in so many years rippled and bubbled through her. Gasping raggedly she surrendered herself to his flickering teasing tongue as wave after wave of pleasure accosted her, carrying her higher and higher till she could stand no more. With a final shuddering sob she clenched his head with her legs and screamed in orgasm.

He rose to his feet, looking up she could see fire in his eyes equal to her own still smoldering desire. Fumbling with his belt she desperately tugged his fly open and his pants down. She wanted this man, wanted him more than she had ever wanted another. He gasped as he she took him, suddenly and savagely into her mouth. She could smell his days sweat on him, not unpleasant, just masculine. She began to work his stiff throbbing cock with her mouth and hands. Faster and faster her head moved as she felt the glans swell and his balls begin to rise. With one last squeeze and thrust she buried him into her throat feeling him rain his hot fire into her.

Afterward they lay, her head on his shoulder. They had gone upstairs to her bed and spent the rest of the evening listening to the angels sing. The caretaker’s cottage would be empty now. Their love had taken time to grow, as a fine wine takes time to age, but grow it had. Somewhere, out among the stars, two angels rejoiced.

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