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“Do not touch them with your bare skin,” he cautioned. “They are hot.”
“What about you?!” I sputtered as he reached his own bare hands into the tub, taking out two large reddish rocks which he then shoved between layers of blankets near my feet.
“Not too hot for me,” he clarified.
Whether he was bullshitting or actually did have some kind of weird alien oven-mitt hands, he continued reaching into the tub without complaint and without any indication of pain, working until all the rocks had been placed at various points along each side of my body.
“How do you feel?” Fallon asked anxiously when he’d run out of rocks.
I felt like I’d gotten hit by a bus. A bus made out of ice. But a wife was never supposed to complain about crap like that to her husband. So I screwed a fake-ass smile on my face and said, “Better, thanks.”
Fallon watched me for a long moment, still and white-eyed at the side of the bed.
Then, without warning, he undid his belt and yanked his sodden trousers down to his knees.
“Holy… What are you doing?” I squawked.
“I… I am doing what you told me to do,” Fallon said, straightening up. “Should I stop?”
He still held the waistband of his pants, as if he was ready to pull the miserably wet, cold clothing back up the second that I told him to.
“No! Go ahead. I just…”
I just wasn’t expecting you to whip your dick out with such little ceremony.
But then again, considering what had happened at our wedding, should I have really been surprised?
I kept my eyes trained on the faded patches of the quilt, my face feeling way hotter than it should have for someone who’d narrowly escaped a bad case of human popsicleitis. Fallon resumed stripping. Wet thudding told me his boots had been kicked off. I dared a subtle peek his way, sending him a fluttering gaze from beneath my eyelashes.
His back was to me. He’d kicked his boots over to sit directly in front of the fire, and he was now hanging his trousers on a simple sort of rack by the flames.
He was naked. My husband was completely and utterly naked.
That sunset-vivid orange hide took on a shadowed, velvet look in the firelight. It was fully dark outside, with nothing but the flames to cast their glow and the occasional lick of lightning blasting its electric rage through the window. Fallon’s hair was now a deeper, tawny gold, the silken strands darkened by rain and creek water. The hard, carved lines of his shoulders and back led down to a tapered waist, a slinky tail, and what was possibly the most spectacularly sculpted ass that any human girl had ever had the privilege to witness. Not that I was looking. A decent wife would never ogle her husband.
Nope. I definitely wasn’t checking out Fallon’s ass. Which also meant I definitely didn’t get an eyeful of big, orange, alien cock when he suddenly spun around.
I averted my gaze, finding a very interesting whorl of wood on the bedframe to examine. Except, the more I looked at the whorl the more I realized it was shaped like a dick.
Delightful.
“I’ve got your tea!”
Magnolia’s voice was loud enough that I heard it that time. Fallon instantly turned towards the door to receive her, massive cock swinging.
With more energy than I should have been capable of producing in my only very recently thawed limbs, I launched like an angry cat from the bed, looped both my arms around one of his, and yanked him down.
Or, I tried to yank him down. It was like pulling as hard as you could against some big boulder. Nearly threw my fucking back out.
“Sit down!” I hissed, hearing Magnolia’s footsteps approaching. There was no time to get some clothes on this idiotic, naked man.
“But I need to get your tea!”
“Not like that, you don’t!”
I was fairly certain that if Magnolia came through the doorway and was confronted with Fallon’s bare genitals then she would legitimately pass away. Just… fall to the floor, her sweet, kind soul instantly leaving her body. That, or sustain third degree burns when she dropped her tea in shocked horror.
“Not like what?” Fallon had the nerve to ask.
