He suggested it as though it was an easy fix to a minor dilemma.
There’s no Heinz ketchup on the shelf? Then just get Hunt’s.
No! Heinz ketchup is the best and The Brigant Academy was the best school in the state; nothing else was as good as either one, so, befitting one of my five year old pupils, I stomped away from him in a snit. Eric seemed unfazed by my antics by now, which was probably a good thing, and I was almost certain I just had an early bout of PMS. That, combined with the stress of the last two weeks, explained (but didn’t really excuse) why my emotions were flip flopping all over the place lately. I knew, deep down, that Eric didn’t view me as a gold digger and after the guilt I’d felt hearing his ‘Am I family or not?’ question a few days earlier, I knew better than to open my mouth now.
I was just so used to fending for myself, the sudden luxury of not having to worry about money, or work, or health insurance was a shock to my system. It didn’t feel right accepting so much from Eric when I had nothing of value to offer him in return, but it was still nice knowing he’d given me the option. I wouldn’t be taking him up on his offer any time soon though, wanting to give my new job a chance. Besides that, I’d feel like I would be taking advantage of him since we’d only known each other for two weeks.
Two weeks that felt like a blink of an eye and a lifetime all rolled into one. It would be different if we’d had a normal relationship that had naturally progressed into marriage, but we just had one hell of a good time with Jose Cuervo and his good friend Dom Perignon. Coupled with Eric’s magical panty vanishing skills, it was no wonder I woke up naked and crusty. Now we were left dealing with the consequences of our actions from that night and taking into consideration how it all began, it was an even bigger shock to my system realizing, all the way down to my bones, I was falling in love with Eric, my fucktarded douche bag turned Prince Charming. He’d even almost gotten me to admit to it in the Avis parking lot, which would’ve been almost fitting with our trashy drunken wedding, but I was afraid it would scare him away hearing the words so soon. Hell, I was scared just feeling that way so soon.
I started feeling bad knowing Eric was thinking I was giving him the silent treatment, which I sort of still was, and was mentally berating myself for being such a bitch to him when he surprised me by placing his hand on my knee.
I was HIS bitch.
A small smile formed on my lips at the thought and as I was trying to form a sincere apology that would encompass my won’t-be-a-kept-woman-but-thanks-for-offering-I-need-chocolate-and-by-the-way-I’m-in-love-with-you feelings, I heard another woman coming onto him. The coming onto him part wasn’t surprising, who wouldn’t when he was clearly the stuff wet dreams were made of, but she was doing it with me right there.
With. Me. Right. There.
My head whipped around like a possessed Linda Blair to see a perky bottle blond flight attendant, with one too many buttons undone on her shirt, bent over in front of Eric and giving him an eyeful of her less than impressive cleavage. I suddenly wished I’d had pea soup for lunch so I could cover her in it and fill in the rest of her B-cups since God hadn’t bothered, but Wicked was a step ahead of my brain latching onto Eric’s upper thigh and brushing against the aspergillum hidden inside of his jeans that would only be blessing me with his holy water if I had anything to say about it.
It turned out I had plenty to say about it and even while my brain cringed, as my ears heard the words my rude mouth was saying, the rest of me was cheering inside wanting that hussy put back in her place. The cheers suspiciously sounded like ‘Jerry! Jerry! Jerry!‘ and a part of me now understood how the dregs of society could humiliate themselves by fighting someone over another person, in front of an audience, because if that bitch didn’t step down I was about to step up and snatch the bleach right out of her hair, giving the other first class passengers a show they wouldn’t soon forget.
Thankfully, Eric was able to soothe my inner Satanic Sookie by giving me his undivided attention and kissed the fight right out of me. Even as I started to get worked up again, commiserating to him over her blatant disregard of the fact Eric and I were together, his blatant disregard of her entire existence and second kiss doused my ire completely while simultaneously fanning the flames of desire between us. I was quickly getting lost in the Eric Northman Experience when the irritating sound of someone clearing their throat from the aisle got my attention. Knowing it would be Eric’s wanna be floozy I ignored her attempt to get our attention for another minute before sucking his lower lip in between my teeth and gently biting down, pulling it away with me for a brief moment as I ended our kiss.
When I looked up at her everything in my smile said he was mine while everything in her smile said I was a bitch, but that was okay.
I was HIS bitch and he was MINE.
“Your water,” she snipped, thrusting it at me. Her glare at me ceased when her eye fuck at Eric returned as she asked him, “Are you sure you wouldn’t like something? Anything at all?”
What the fuck? Was she Paprika’s sister?
As Eric began to speak, I looked over seeing his panty vanishing smile at her and was temporarily stunned when he asked her in a voice as smooth as silk, “What’s your name?”
She perked right up seeing she now had his attention as she replied, “Kate.”
I hate Kate.
For some reason my inner thoughts were in Amelia’s voice, but I had no time to analyze why because I was too busy recalling any and all Jason Bourne movies I’d ever seen, trying to figure out the best way to take them both out with the water bottle now buckling in my clenched fingers.
“Well Kate, there’s only one thing I want,” Eric purred before his expression changed from flirty to stone cold. “I want you to quit disrespecting my wife by shamelessly flirting with me in front of her. Even if you didn’t know who she was, the fact that I’m wearing a wedding band should tell you I already belong to another and the fact that she’s right here next to me as you brazenly try to get my attention is reprehensible. Even if I wasn’t married I’d be turned off by the desperation wafting out of you and as you can see,” he gave me a softened but pointed look before glaring back at her, “I prefer the company of a lady. I’ll be sure to report your behavior once we land since it appears you’d be better suited as a waitress at a truck stop diner where your clientele might not be as discerning.”
My eyes were huge at Eric’s impromptu speech, while I made a mental note to play Scrabble with him at some point now knowing he had a big vocabulary, but her gaping mouth was even bigger than my eyes before she scampered away down the aisle. I wanted to swat him for dissing diner waitresses, since I was one before getting my position at the school, but it was overridden by my desire to fuck his brains out in thanks for giving her a well deserved what for.
‘Eric! Eric! Eric!’ my panties chanted.
He looked over at me, his stone cold demeanor long gone, and smiled asking, “Better?”
A goofy grin plastered its way onto my face as I pounced on him saying, “The best.”
He really was.
And I really wanted to show him just how much I appreciated his words by bringing sexy back in the bathroom, but having never been inside of one on an airplane before I didn’t realize how small those things were. Even Justin Timberlake couldn’t have fit the whole song in there much less both Eric and I, so instead we had to settle for strategic groping of each other in our seats, with alternating giggles and sighs from each of us over our wandering hands and the lack of privacy. The floozy flight attendant wisely stayed away from us and when we both called a temporary truce on our sexual assault of one another, so we could calm down, Eric asked, “So why were you so mad before?”
A part of me had been waiting for him to bring up our earlier non-fight, so I answered him truthfully saying, “I’m sorry. I guess it was just a knee jerk reaction to hearing you suggest I quit my job.” I could see him about to interject, but I silenced him by raising my hand up and continued saying, “I know you had nothing but the best of intentions and I appreciate it, I really do, but I just can’t accept your offer.”
“Why?” he asked. “What’s wrong with leaving a job where you’re obviously not appreciated and finding another one where you are?”
He made it sound so simple, but I plowed ahead anyway replying, “I haven’t been there long enough to give them a reason to appreciate me. Besides,” I lowered my voice so only Eric would hear my next words, “we’ve only been together for two weeks. I wouldn’t accept such a generous offer if we were just dating and I doubt you would’ve made it if that were the case.”
His hand rose up to gently stroke my cheek with his fingers while he said, “But we’re not just dating. We’re married. I know we’ve done everything ass backwards, but the fact remains that we are so why not accept it?” His eyes fell to his lap as he asked, “Or is this really because you’re still unsure about us?”
Duh…of COURSE I’m unsure. It’s been TWO WEEKS! Remember?
As if Eric had the power of telepathy, which I really hoped wasn’t the case, he said, “Never mind, that was an unfair question. We have only been together for two weeks, so I can see why you’re hesitant, especially knowing your thoughts on being viewed as a gold digger, but I hope you know I don’t think of you that way and know that the offer still stands.”
The sincerity of his grown up response in light of my initial temper tantrum made me recalculate the dimensions of the bathroom, but the pilot’s voice on the loud speaker announcing our impending arrival at LAX put the kibosh on those thoughts. Instead I just smiled and leaned forward saying, “I know and thank you,” before kissing him again. I kissed him right through touchdown onto the tarmac, so I didn’t even have the chance to get nervous over it and once we were back inside of the terminal I was surprised when Eric went up to the airline personnel at the gate demanding to speak to a supervisor. I’d honestly forgotten all about the tart in first class, but Eric hadn’t and he let them know all about his displeasure which only made my pleasure soar.
I regretted checking our bags when the paparazzi descended on us like buzzards on road kill, but we eventually made our way to Eric’s car giving us just enough time to get home and switch out our clothes before the car would arrive to take us up the coast. Eric wasn’t sure where we were headed, but suggested I bring a sweater knowing the temperatures farther north were chillier than what we normally experienced in L.A. I again wondered if Eric would bring up moving my things into his bedroom as I tore apart my closet looking for things to pack. It seemed logical to me, but I still didn’t want to be the one to bring it up just in case he wasn’t ready for that yet; like he wasn’t ready to hear me tell him that I loved him which was good since I wasn’t ready to tell him just yet.
Once my bag was unpacked and repacked I hauled it downstairs and left it in the foyer before going back into the kitchen. I went into the refrigerator in search of a bottle of water and nearly gagged at what I found. All of the leftovers from before we’d gone to Bon Temps were still sitting in there and while they didn’t look that nasty, the pungent smell hit me like a freight train. I grabbed a trash bag and emptied out everything that looked iffy, which turned out to be anything that wasn’t prepackaged, and was just closing it up when Eric made his way into the room.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, seeing the grimace on my face.
“That,” I said, holding the bag out towards him. “Can’t you smell that?” It was like old greasy fried chicken had been wedged inside of my nasal passages.
He took the bag from me and held it up to his face, like the brave man he was, and inhaled deeply before looking back at me and saying, “It smells mostly like a plastic bag with a hint of fried chicken.”
“No,” I refuted, “it smells like a condemned Kentucky Fried Chicken franchise. Can you take it outside to the garbage can please?”
Eric rolled his eyes chuckling out, “You’d never know who the actor was in this family with all of the dramatics going on in here,” as he took the offending bag out to the garage.
What. Ever. It wasn’t my fault he had a poor sense of smell and I was just happy it was gone while I sprayed down the countertops with a lemon scented cleaner, cleansing my nasal cavities at the same time I cleaned the counters. Eric had just come back into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around me from behind when the doorbell rang, cutting short whatever he’d had planned, which I guessed involved some sort of foreplay given the frustrated sigh he let out when he let go of me.
“The car is here,” he said as he returned to the room.
“Okay,” I replied, throwing away the paper towels I’d been using. I threw some snacks and bottles of water into a bag, since we hadn’t eaten anything since that morning, and followed Eric out to the waiting limousine. Sliding inside, with Eric coming in right behind me, I turned to face him with a grin saying, “Fancy shmancy.”
Eric laughed, a sound I doubted I’d ever tire of, and agreed, “I guess.”
The only times I’d ever been in a limo had occurred with Eric, so to me it was still a new experience, but I could see how he might be jaded to it all by now. It only made the differences in us that much more apparent, but he distracted me by sliding closer to me and saying, “I normally enjoy driving, but now that I have you I think I’ll enjoy having my hands free even more.”
My poor soaked panties bore the brunt of his words and seeing his eyes darken with lust made my insides jump in anticipation. We’d both changed when we’d gotten home and I’d traded out my t-shirt and jeans for a sundress, which Eric seemed to approve of since his hands were currently sliding their way up my bare legs. My legs approved of his proposed travel route as well by opening up further and giving him clearance for liftoff, as I glanced over making sure the partition separating us from the driver was up.
Eric’s mouth was suddenly on mine and I slid down the leather seat until I was lying flat on my back with him on top of me. Wicked and Immoral did what they did best and launched a counter assault on Eric’s body, groping anything they could reach until they stilled with my involuntary gasp as Eric’s fingers maneuvered their way inside of my panties. “You’re always so wet for me lover,” he growled against my lips before plunging both his tongue and his fingers inside of me. My hips and my embarrassment ratcheted up with his movements and words, but it wasn’t like I could deny it. I leaked enough in both my northern and southern hemispheres around him that had it been water, I could turn the Sahara into a tropical rainforest.
My hands decided they wanted to claim Eric’s shirt as the spoils of war which he willingly surrendered by sitting up and letting them pull it off of him. His chest, my third favorite of his body parts, could still render me stupid and I silently traced each and every muscle displayed in front of me like I was reading Braille and his chest held the secrets of Creation. For all I knew, it did. I was willing to bet my chest was also in Eric’s top three favorites when he hid my scripture from view by leaning down and kissing his way along my collarbone before moving down my body, with his fingers still moving in a steady rhythm inside of me. My white dress had buttons running down the length of the front which he deftly flicked open one by one with his teeth until I was left in front of him wearing nothing more than my white lace panties which covered nothing thanks to his fingers.
“You’re perfect,” he whispered, trailing one finger down my body from my neck, through the valley in between my breasts, and all the way down to meet up with his other hand still thrusting inside of me.
Seeing the reverent look in his eyes and being so exposed in front of him was so much of a turn on that my orgasm snuck up on me and I fell apart in his hands, literally. When my vision cleared I could see Eric hadn’t moved and was still watching me from above as he said, “You have no idea of how beautiful you are when you cum for me,” before sucking each of his fingers clean adding, “only made sweeter by your taste.”
You have no idea how hot you make me saying ‘cum’ and then moaning over its taste.
It was true. The only vocal appreciation I ever heard from Quinn was a loud grunt when he came and more often than not, it was before me and signaled the start of my headache from not getting my own happy moment after being so worked up. Quinn also preferred receiving oral sex over giving back and his lack of enthusiasm whenever he did give it a try was just another lesson in frustration for me.
I was quickly learning however, with Eric, that he was more turned on seeing me being so turned on and it made my desire outweigh my embarrassment. Knowing men are visually stimulated, I trailed my fingertips up my sides and through my hair before suggestively sucking the tips of each of my pointer fingers into my mouth, all the while staring straight into Eric’s eyes. He watched each of my movements with rapt attention as my fingers traveled down to my breasts, tweaking my already hardened nipples with them pebbling even more as the cool air hit the skin, now moistened by my fingertips.
Keeping Wicked occupied with my breasts, Immoral snaked down my front and dove into the slick folds between my thighs as Eric grunted his approval. My knees were spread apart giving Eric a view normally only reserved for my gynecologist, but this was so much more fun than my annual pap smear and Eric was a much better sight than Dr. Ludwig. Since Wicked and Immoral were currently busy they deputized my foot as a UN inspector giving it orders to seek out any weapons of mass destruction in the country of Northman. I knew firsthand our Intel was solid; no grainy satellite images were needed, and hit pay dirt when my foot slid up Eric’s silo through his jeans.
I was thoroughly enjoying the shift in power I had assumed had taken place between us, but I should’ve known better than to have assumed anything because Eric grabbed my newly deputized foot, The Inspector, and thrust his hips forward against it, brandishing his weapon with no fear of being sanctioned like the BAMF he was, as he asked in a hoarse voice, “Do you feel that?”
If he jumped out of the car and did a push up on the side of the road, little kids in China would bounce in their seats feeling THAT.
“That,” he continued, “is what happens whenever you’re near me. The very thought of you makes me ache, but seeing you like this,” he paused to run his hands up my thighs, “spread out in front of me like a sensual buffet is sheer torture.” Eric swooped down and replaced my fingers with his tongue in between my legs, stopping long enough to sigh blissfully and say, “You’ve converted me lover. I know there’s a God because Heaven and Hell exists right here,” punctuating the word with another swipe of his tongue.
My fingers wove into his hair as a chorus of ‘Hallelujahs’ and ‘Amen’s’ sang in my head, but all Eric would hear was the repetitive, “Oh God, Eric!” chant my voice was able to form. With my body still shuddering with the aftershocks of my second orgasm, thank you very much Mr. Northman, I was already aching for my third and pulled at Eric’s jeans, needing his holy water to douse the flames still burning inside of me.
As soon as I had his holy hose in hand, my insides jumped hearing a hoarse, “Fuck,” come from his throat.
Yes. Fucking sounded very good right about now.
Eric was still sitting up on his knees, so I pushed him until he was seated and straddled his lap while I tore through the pockets of his pants looking for a condom, but finding none.
“Eric?” I asked, pleading more than questioning. “Condom?”
Yeah, my brain was only functioning on auxiliary power at the moment and couldn’t form more than one word at a time.
He released my waist to bury his face in his hands and replied, “They’re in my suitcase. In the trunk.”
“Fuck,” I repeated, still only forming single words.
“I want to,” he replied and pulled me forward for another kiss. Releasing my mouth he said, “I can have the driver pull over for a minute and get them out.”
I turned beet red at the thought and instead took matters into my own hand, literally, and said, “I can wait,” as my mouth slid down his naked body finding other things to do to occupy our time.