Mmm. Terry Thorne.

John and I have been living at the Inn for nearly three months now, and Terry would be only the second Brother to come to Vermont to visit me. John was off, having an inaugural visit with Meredith, our newest Sister. While they'd be sunning in Monterey, California, Terry and I would be trying to keep warm at the Inn.

Yeah, I'm smiling. Nothing like being warmed by Tio. But I had a few concerns. First, Terry was still recovering from the gunshot wound to his left leg during the rescue in Cairo. I spent countless hours choosing level paths for us to walk through the property, and making sure everything we would need was on one floor. And although Terry had made it very clear on the phone that he was almost perfect, (I think he's absolutely perfect), I was still worried.

The second concern I had was that, during our conversation, it seemed obvious that he desperately missed working. He wouldn't be cleared for active duty for another sixty days, and as much as that frustrated him, I swear I heard a touch of depression in his voice. "Just don't ask about the fuckin' leg," he said. I didn't.

But I did ask Dee. She said yes, he pushed too hard and too fast, but he was doing very well. She warned me about uneven paths and too many steps, to watch his diet and intake of alcohol. He wasn't on medication or using a cane. I took it all seriously, but with a grain of salt. I'm not a big drinker, so I couldn't imagine us getting shit-faced during the week. And I surely wasn't going to be concerned about him gaining a pound or two. Hell, he was strong enough to work out every day; he'd burn off whatever this chef put on the table.

Terry and I have a rather playful relationship. I come up with the game or the bet, and he plays along with his Aussie good nature. I really wanted to see him smile. Even laugh. But Terry likes a challenge too. The last time we were together, I sort of won the bet and he had to make me come with his words alone. Jesus. He did it! And to be honest with you, after that experience, it was really hard to sit still when I heard his voice on the phone. One 'G'day love', and I was almost there! When he asked me what the game was for the week, I told him it was going to be a surprise.

Well, until this morning, I actually hadn't completely formulated my plan. Although I couldn't provide him with a kidnap and ransom situation to soothe his desire for adventure, I could challenge him with the right kind of game to entertain away his semi-depression. And it was going to be a good one. Yeah, Terry likes the games, and Terry likes to play. But Terry likes to win too. So do I. I told him to come prepared for anything.

I stood about fifteen feet from the baggage claim at Burlington Airport, hidden behind a fake bush and waited, relaxing, feeling the pull get stronger. The moment I saw him I dialed his cell phone.

I watched him pull it out of his breast pocket and look at the screen. "Where are ya, Riles. I can feel ya, so you're not far."

"Nope, not far at all. How was your flight?"

I watched him turn a full circle, actually stare at the bush, then look past it. "Bumpy. Where are ya?"

"In a minute. Patience, K&R man. I thought you might like to know the rules of the game before we start."

"Did ya, now?" Damn, he was walking toward me.

"Stop right there, bucko."

He did, that wonderful giggle floating over the phone. "Alright, love. Gimme the rules."

Already it was working. He was smiling. God, he has a beautiful smile.

"Well, you remember the song, Anything you can do, I can do better, don't you?"

"Ah, I do."

"Well, this week it's a game of outdoing each other. I get to go first." And I stepped out from behind the bush.

His eyebrows shot up and a crooked smile pulled his sweet lips. The phone still at his ear, he whistled then walked around me. "Well, I gotta admit, Riles. Was afraid ya went all rustic on me. I was expectin' a country bumpkin."

I held out my arms, giving him a good look. I was wearing a white turtle-neck cashmere dress. It was a little short and very clingy. Knee high fawn boots with really high heels. My new camel wool coat and colorful silk scarf were over my arm. "You like?"

He finally flipped closed his phone, took me in his arms and pulled me close. One of those Terry Thorne kisses was my reward. Wow. "I like," he growled.

"Beat that, Thorne." I grinned.

AWell, love." He unbuttoned his beautifully tailored wool overcoat. "Don't know if anyone can look better than you." Pulled away his silk scarf. "But..."

And there, in front of my eyes was a real vision.

"Oh my God!" I squealed. He was dressed to the teeth. Black designer tuxedo, crisp white shirt and tie.

I sighed then giggled. "I think the first round goes to you."

"I think the first round's a draw, Riles." He chuckled and put his arm around me, leading me to the luggage carousel.

As we waited for his bags, he turned, held me close. I reached up for another kiss. His hands slid down the curves of my body to the small of my back, warm through the soft knit. He sighed. "So how far is this fuckin' Inn, anyway?"

"Oh we're not going to the Inn tonight."

His head tilted. "Where are we goin'?"

"Round two." We gathered luggage and I relinquished my car keys.

Terry loaded his bags in the back of my brand new KIA SUV and climbed in. He sat behind the wheel and looked around, checked the dash board. "John get you this?"

"Yeah," I smiled. "I guess he figured that if I hit a tree, I'd be safe."

He laughed. "Where to?"

"North."

During the drive to Stowe we chatted. Talked about the weather, the changing leaves which were unfortunately almost all gone, and the Inn. Terry told a few stories about some of his adventures, but he never talked about his injury or rehabilitation. I had to admit, he looked great. Walked like he was never hurt at all. And me? I couldn't stop smiling. This was my third official visit with Terry. More than any other Brother.

"You know, I'm nuts about you."

"Are ya now? I'm not even on your list, love." He chuckled.

"Doesn't make me any less nuts for you."

"Checked it all out last night after we talked. There's John, of course."

"Yup. John," I sighed.

"Max. The grease monkey."

"Colin," I corrected.

"Yeah, him. Lachlan. And Cort. No room for me, heh?"

"I got you right here." I put my hand over my heart.

"Lemme see?" He reached over, slid his warm hand under the lapel of my coat and gently cupped my breast. "Guess you're right. There I am."

I laughed. "What made you wear a tux?"

"Well love, ya did tell me to be prepared for anything," he said. "Actually I wore it to make ya smile." Then he spoke softly, quietly to the windshield. "Thought ya might like to know I think bein' here is special."

There it was. Terry at his most charming. All that natural sweetness oozing out all over me. I loved seeing that part of him. And I realized that there was a good chance I wouldn't get another look at it all week. I leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Thanks."

"Where are we going?"

"Left, and pull in front. Valet parking."

He looked up at the rustic surroundings, hilly, tree lined, a tiny bit of frost here and there. "Thank God."

The evening had grown cold, making our breath steam and poor Terry shiver. We walked into the Gables Inn, a beautiful old mansion tucked deep in the woods. Very elegant, very upscale and the only Inn, aside from the one John and I were building, to boast a four star dining room. Our bags were taken to the suite, but we went to the dining room for dinner.

"Very nice," Terry said, gazing around at the beautiful stone and dark wood walls, the crackling fireplace, the graceful flower and fruit arrangements. We were introduced to the wine steward, our waiter, and the owner before we even looked at the menu. The food was wonderful, flavorful and perfect for the kind of evening I was hoping to share with him.

"I thought I'd ease you into wilderness living before I take you home," I teased. Terry's eyes glowed in the firelight and he smiled.

"Is this how your place is gonna be?" He sipped coffee and leaned back in his chair.

"Well, it will be different. But very beautiful, Terry. Really special."

He nodded. "Would you like a nightcap? Or are ya ready to go up to the room?"

I didn't have the heart to tell him I specifically asked for a first floor suite when I made the reservations. Whatever. The room was perfect. "Let's go."

In the suite, he did the same thing he did in the dining room. Take a good look around. Nod. His eyes catching every detail, every nuance. He plucked a bloom from the flower arrangement and tucked it into my hair, then lowered his lips to mine. My heart was racing. Just the idea of him is enough to send me to the moon. Then he straightened.

"I guess I gotta top that dinner, don't I love?"

I wasn't sure I liked this game anymore, but if he wanted to play, I would too. "Yup. Top it."

He rubbed his chin. Turned to his suitcase and pulled out two bottles of Dom Perignon. "Your call? I'm thinking maybe you got this round."

"Another draw," I laughed.

"Let's get this chilled." He reached for the phone, ready to call room service for ice.

"Hey Terry," I took the bottles from his hands and opened the window. "Your first lesson in high class living in the great rustic north." I set the bottles in the empty flower box and slid the window closed, brushing off my hands.

"Good to know." He reached for me, pulling me close and nuzzling my neck. "On to round three."

We were standing near a tall, antique free-standing mirror. Terry's such a perve sometimes, it makes me laugh. He slowly turned us so that he could watch. I took his face in my hands, licking his mouth and sucking his lips, demanding all his attention. And for a while, I had it. Until he slowly pulled at the back of my dress, lifting it higher and higher. Over the tops of my thigh high stockings, all the way to my waist.

"Bloody hell!" He chuckled.

"Yes Terry, I went commando," I laughed.

"No knickers in this fuckin' cold weather? You are one brave sheila. You did all this for me?"

I nodded then pulled the dress over my head, standing in front of him in my boots, a lacy bra, thigh high stockings, and absolutely nothing else. "Top that."

Terry grinned. Opened his silk tuxedo slacks and dropped them to his ankles. His hands out, a wicked smile and head tilt. "Commando, love."

"Another draw!" I giggled then pulled off my boots.

"Leave those pretty nylons on, Riles." He said as he busied himself undressing. "And I'll take care of that lacy bra too." His eyes twinkled. I reached under his opened shirt, hugged his skin to mine and moaned.

He sat on the edge of the bed. "Come here, love."

I stood between his legs, leaned down and kissed the top of his head as his warm palms slid over me. Down my arms. Squeezing my fingers tenderly. Along my waist, up my back. And his lips kissed my belly, shoulders, my neck then the nipples, swollen and hard under lace. His fingers un-hooked the bra and he slid it slowly from my arms, set it aside. Those gorgeous blue eyes toured my body as he fingered the lacy tops of my stockings. "You are a pretty little one, Riles."

"You ain't so bad yourself."

I knelt on the floor and nuzzled into his crotch, loving the warmth, the scent of him. The familiarity of him. Already I was wondering when I could ask for him again. But I had a whole week. A glorious seven days to enjoy all the facets of Terry Thorne. I licked at the head of his solid cock. Tasting, savoring.

"Love," he said softly. "Riley."

I looked up.

His hands cupped my face, his eyes almost apologetic. "Never thought I'd say this . . . but I've had just about enough head to last me for a while." He kissed my lips light and easy. "Do ya mind? I really wanna make love to you."

And as usual, his moment of pure charm was quickly disguised. He yanked down the blankets. "Get under before we fuckin' freeze to death." I scurried under the sheets and he promptly tossed them over us. "Much better," he sighed, pulling me close.

"Too much head? I didn't think that was possible?" I teased.

He nestled his face between my breasts and groaned. "We'll talk 'bout that another time."

His mouth took my breast, sucking and licking. His teeth easily pulled at the nipple and my hips rolled with excitement. Of course, the heat we generated soon eliminated the blankets, Terry tossing them off with one sweep of his arm. His face moved down my body, his hands massaged my skin, smoothed over my curves. Then he knelt between my knees and looked down at the stockings.

"Like these," he said, running his fingertips along the silky texture, raising my legs over his shoulders. "Like 'em a lot." His eyes glittered in the soft lamplight and my heart thumped, knowing what was next. Watching his perfect lips move to my sex.

He licked softly then laid flat, his face deep in my pussy, inhaling me, moaning. His hands held my hips still as his tongue circled my clit easily. A tiny flicker started deep in my belly, a spark, like a flint ready to ignite a raging inferno. But Terry is a master at this. Knows by instinct when to move, when to slow down, when to stop. Within minutes I was gasping, begging.

"Patience, love." He kissed my mound, soothing me down, down to the earth before pulling me to the heavens again, only slightly higher than the last time, only to bring me back.

"Oh Jesus, Terry. Please. Please, now," I gasped.

"Maybe." His tongue licked a long drag through the folds. "Maybe not." And he chuckled.

I pressed on his head, raised my hips for more, but again he slowed, massaging my belly softly with his palm. I rolled, and his hand gripped my hip tighter. His other hand smoothed the inside of my thigh, along the stocking, onto my trembling flesh. Then he slid his fingers deep, a slow probe, moving inch by inch, stopping then driving deeper. His fingers curled and pressed, twisted and rolled. And the whole time, his mouth sucked my throbbing clit. I prayed he'd let me come. Then I realized he either had no choice, or it was part of his grand plan.

Lightning flashed behind my eyes and I cried out as I was gripped by complete orgasm, shuddering and stiffening. Arching and groaning with the rhythm of incredible spasms that shook me to the bone. "Terry! Oh God! Terry!"

He leapt over me, holding me tight, kissing my face, sucking my panting mouth. "There ya go, Riles. I got ya," he said, his breath hot on my flushed skin. "I got ya." He held on tight, kissing my neck, my cheeks, my nose until I was calm. Till my breathing became regular and my flesh stilled.

I hugged him tight. "Jesus, Terry. That was unbelievable."

"Was it?" He reached down to lift my legs around him. He pressed hard and hot into my quivering path, jutting in, creating new sensations to bring even more delight. Every nerve ending screamed out for more. He rose on his knees and pressed deeper, till he reached his distance with a groan.

Slowly, his face intense, eyes on mine, he pumped his hips. Holding himself steady, reaching the rhythm he wanted. I watched his eyes slip closed, the veins on his forehead pulse.

And I pulsed too; my heartbeat racing with the coming orgasm, building faster than before, stronger for waiting the first time.

"Wait for me, love," he groaned, "Wait . . . and come . . . with me."

Jesus, how do I do that? His thrusts were deliberate, controlled. I concentrated on watching him, feeling his energy build, escalate, and finally, suddenly I let go.

"Fuck!" He shouted as my body clenched his, sucked his coming. Nursed every last drop before he collapsed in a heap, groaning and panting. "Fuck," he gasped. "Pretty fuckin' unbelievable is right, Riles." He chuckled, pulling my trembling body to his. "Another draw I'd say, wouldn't you?"

I laughed so hard I thought I'd cry.

"Think the bubbly's cold?" He said, squeezing me close, kissing my hair.

***

The next morning it was obvious his leg was a little stiff, his groan a quiet rumble as he crawled out of bed and pulled on a pair of sweat pants. The room was still fairly dark, but he never switched on the lamp. Bare chested, he began his stretches, push ups and squats in the open space across from me. I lay silent, watching this man's tenacity. He was in pain, but he was working with it and against it. I hadn't said a word and he was careful to be quiet, probably thinking I was asleep.

I heard the shower and slid from the warm blankets, peeking into the open bathroom door. At first, I thought he'd left it opened as an invitation, but as I watched him through the water speckled glass shower door, I could see otherwise. He was leaning against the wall, the hot spray pounding on his leg and lower back. The ache in his body made him forget to close the door.

I slid the shower entry opened and my eyes went straight to the ugly scar on Terry's thigh; an angry, red ragged mark against his fair skin, an indented flaw in his perfect muscle. I really hadn't looked at it last night. Last thing on my mind, you know.

He looked into my eyes, water trickling down his face. "Won't ask ya to beat that. Bet you can tell me worse stories, love." He turned off the water, reached for a towel and began to brush past me. My arm reached out, settled along his wet waist and he stopped, stood dripping, so close.

He sighed and kissed my lips. A tender kiss. The kind that stirs the imagination and brings all kinds of wonderful images bubbling to the surface. Sucking softly, licking into my mouth, I felt him stir against my hip, his desire growing as fast as mine. Pulling me back into the shower stall, Terry started the water and tenderly ran soapy hands over my body, blessing every scar I have, every wound I'd tried so hard to hide or forget. He kissed the shiny flesh, finding each mark with his gentle fingertips, sensing the difference between my skin and the survival of my history. His hands found my pussy; leaning me back against him, he sucked my neck gently.

A cry of delight reverberated against the tile walls as I shot into climax. Holding me close, his hands soothed and pampered me, he whispered sweet words, loving phrases until I could stand on my own. Turning me slowly, he pressed me back against the wall. His lips devoured mine as his strong arms lifted me. I wrapped myself around him.

My mind was in terrible conflict. I wanted to suggest we go to the bed so that he could lie down, be more comfortable, but I didn't dare. I could feel the power of his inner strength fighting the discomfort in his leg. My heart was thumping and I wondered what I could do to help him. Again, not a good idea.

He was relentless, his rhythm perfect, control absolute, bringing me again to incredible orgasm before filling me with his hot come. The steam of the shower pressed against my flesh as every nerve in my body relaxed into his arms.

We rinsed off. I was trying with all my might not to ask if he was all right, he asked me repeatedly if I was.

"Didn't hurt ya, did I love? Did ya hit your head against the wall? Are ya cold?"

***

We had a wonderful breakfast before leaving the luxury of Gables Inn. Terry was in good spirits, making me even happier that I hadn't said or done the wrong thing. We climbed into my car and headed the few miles home.

"Well, the first thing we need to do is get the fireplaces going. All the wood's cut, so we won't waste any time doing that." I ran my hand along his shoulder. "I'd much rather spend time playing with you than chopping wood anyway."

"You? Chop wood?" He snorted.

"Well, I didn't say I do it well, and John stays a pretty safe distance away when I swing the ax."

"Smart man."

As we turned in to the property I looked at him. "Please, use your imagination. I swear it will be beautiful."

His hand squeezed mine. "No worries, love. Gotta pretty good imagination."

As we got out of the car, I watched him take in the building, the twin towers, the arched porch. He walked around to the side, came back, looked in the windows, nodded. I was wringing my hands. Nervous as a mother terrified her child would shout a swear word in church. He stood beside me, gazing up at the widow-walks.

"Love to see the plans, Riles."

"Wait till you see the new addition," I smiled, knowing Terry would understand the blueprints. He went to the wood stacked on the porch, loaded his arms and raised his eyebrows at me. I was so busy watching how gorgeous he is, I forgot to unlock the door. "Sorry."

"Where's the dog?"

I pointed to the living room fireplace and he set wood inside. "She's with a neighbor. She'll be home tomorrow. Do you like dogs?"

"Grab more wood, love. I'll get this started."

Guess Terry doesn't like dogs. As I was stacking quartered logs in a canvas carrier, he joined me, hugging me from behind.

"Like dogs well enough," a sweet kiss nuzzled in my neck. "Just wanna be alone with ya this week, love."

"Marg loves Sophie. I'm sure she can stay there longer."

Heaving a load twice the size of mine, Terry headed inside. "Okie dokie. Let's get this all burnin'."

The three rooms John and I live in until construction next March are really nice, considering the fact that there was no furnace, and the rest of the mansion was sealed off and empty. Sometimes it was hard for me to imagine it. But at times like this, gazing down at the blueprints, Terry leaning over the table with me, I could feel the rooms come alive. He asked several questions, and I actually think he was impressed that I could answer them so well.

I ran a finger over the white lines. "This has been my whole life, Terry. I have always wanted it. Over the years there have been a thousand variations of it, but the core of the dream has always been the same."

"And what's that, Riles?"

"To love and be loved in this very house." I felt myself blush. "Yeah, I know, it sounds silly. School girl silly."

"Not to me. It's a good dream. You deserve it." He sat on the chair and watched me carefully roll the blueprints, sliding them into their labeled tubes. "And I am impressed. This will be a beautiful Inn."

I stashed the tubes on the desk, smiling.

"Well, I think I lost round four, Riley. Don't think I can top this."

I sat across from him, ready to say, enough already with the game. I didn't show him the plans to win the round. I just wanted to share it with him. As I opened my mouth, he grinned.

"Ah," he said, reaching into his pocket. "Maybe I can at least stay in the game." He slid a velvet covered box across the table.

"What is this?" I asked suspiciously.

"Nothin' much." He shrugged, leaned back and waited for me to open the lid. "Just somethin' that made me think of you."

Just as I reached for the box, his hand covered mine. "Listen, love. I understand how much this Inn means to you. That it's got more to do with your heart than your mind. That's a bit of what this little box says about my feelings for you."

I opened it. Lifting the gold chain, I carefully examined the charm dangling there. It was the simple image of a girl on a swing. And it touched my heart. Terry pulled me onto his knee and clasped the chain behind my neck.

"Is this how you see me, Terry? As a little girl?"

"No," his eyebrows curled, his hand sat gentle on my cheek. "Riley, I see you as the most playful woman I've ever known. A joy, love."

I kissed his soft lips, looked down at the charm in my fingers. "I love it." Kissing him again, I realized what he'd done. Kept the damn game in play. "Another draw, I suppose."

Terry chuckled. "This can't go on much longer. My bag of tricks is empty."

I got up and started coq au vin for dinner, then wiped my hands on a dish towel and looked into the living room. Terry had gotten up with a grimace, dropped a few more logs on the fire and was settling himself back into the love seat. He needed to move around.

"I wanna go for a walk," I announced, tossing John's flannel jacket at him with a grin.

"Sounds like a plan."

It was a cool, sunny day. Perfect for a walk. We strolled my carefully chosen paths for nearly an hour and he seemed much more comfortable. We walked all the way around the pond, went toward the engraved stone marker and were heading back to the house. I apologized that the trees were nearly bare, but there was still just enough colorful foliage for him to enjoy. Suddenly he patted his chest. "Bugger!"

"What?"

"I promised to call Diana with a description of this place. Forgot my phone."

"I'll get it," and I trotted off the quarter mile to the house. I looked everywhere for the damn cell phone before finally finding it in the bedroom with his watch and wallet. Do all men do that? Leave their things on a dresser? Where ever they are? Heading back, I didn't run, just figured I'd take my time. Of course I assumed he'd be right where I left him.

"Yo! Where are you?" I called, looking around, pacing in one direction, then another. "Yoo-hoo! Terry!"

"What?"

I jumped. That voice came from right over my head. It was a slow, terrified ascent that my eyes took up the wide, rough bark of a huge old oak. Inch by inch, telling myself there was no way . . . but dammit! There were his feet, dangling playfully from a broad limb. I stepped back and looked up at his wicked grin.

"Beat that, Riles," he jeered.

"Jesus! Oh my fucking God, Terry! Dee is going to kill me. My ass is grass when she hears about this!"

"So we won't tell her, love. Come on up."

"How the hell did you --"

"Easy. I just reached up to that limb, tossed my leg over and, here I am. Now you."

"No. No. NO! Jesus, Terry! Why did you --"

"Are ya conceding? Sayin' I win?"

I blinked. Dammit! "No."

"All righty, then. Come on up, Riles. View's great from up here."

He had to be kidding. I looked way up there at the branch he'd reached. "You had to jump to do that, Terry."

"Yeah, I did. You can jump too . . . or are ya saying I win?" His eyebrow went up and I saw red. I wanted to reprimand him for taking the risk, I wanted to complain the he broke the rules, but most of all, I wanted to get him out of the tree!

AND I really, really, really wanted to win. Dammit all to hell.

I huffed and stood directly under the branch looking up at it with consternation. It was sturdy and wide. Terry was at its crotch, leaning comfortably against the trunk. The limb sloped down a few inches, but was still two feet above my reach. One, two, three, jump. He laughed. I tried again. No go.

"Riley, bend your knees, love. Spring up to it. You can make it. Come on." And he began to sing.

Anything you can do, I can do better.
Anything you can do I can do best.
No you can't. Yes I can. No you can't. Yes I can.
Yes I can, yes I can, yes I caaaaaaaaan!

I softened my knees, actually took a run for the limb and leapt. My fingertips grazed the bark.

"Close," he chuckled, leaned dangerously forward. "Again."

I stepped back three paces this time, ran and jumped. My hands gripped the limb, but I couldn't get them all the way around it. My legs were swinging and I was squealing.

"That's it, Riles! Now swing your leg up over. You can do this!"

My hands were slipping. With every sweaty effort I made to lift my leg, I lost hold more and more, until I tumbled with a thud onto the leaf covered ground.

"Shit!" I looked at my palms, scratched and bloody. "Dammit!" I rubbed my sore behind, my tail bone throbbing.

"Ya okay?"

I glared up, wanted to call him a few choice names I'd learned from Dee, but he looked so concerned. "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine."

"Try again."

"No Terry. You fucking win."

He put his hand to his ear. "Wait. Didn't hear ya clearly. Say that again."

"I said . . . you win!" I shouted and he laughed. "Now come down from there."

"Well, love. I'd do that if I could. Getting' up was no strain on the leg, but bouncing down . . ."
He shook his head. "Would ya mind fetchin' a ladder?"

I stood with a groan. "Jesus, Terry. What if I had gotten up there? We'd both have been trapped till John comes home next week."

"Probably, but then I could have won anyway. I know wilderness survival." He giggled like a girl and swung his feet playfully.

I hobbled away like an old man, rubbing my tail bone, shaking my head and grumbling. Hauling the ladder to that damn tree, I started to really wonder what the hell made a man like Terry Thorne tick. What made him do things like that? I leaned the rungs against the trunk and held the ladder still, watching his dirty, beautiful denim-covered ass come closer and closer.

"No gropes, Riles. Not till I'm on the ground."

Damn.

We sat under the tree and laughed. He brushed dirt from my palms and kissed the scratches then offered to fix my displaced tail bone later, in bed.

"Yeah? How do you do that?"

He raised a wicked eyebrow and smiled.

"Ah . . . maybe it's fine."

"Riley, ya really need to develop your upper body strength, love."

"Yeah well, all I got is upper body boobs."

"Nice ones too." He chuckled and pulled me into his arms. "Bloody good game ya came up with . . . again. Seems I should come up with the next one then, love."

"I don't mind. I have a vivid imagination. Already started thinking about the next time."

"So you're gonna ask for me again?"

I huffed. "Duh!"

"When?"

"I guess I should wait for all the other Sisters to get their chance at you first. Now that you're all recovered."

"Am I?"

I turned in his arms, looked deep into his beautiful blue eyes. "Terry?"

"Hmm?"

"Why did you do that? Climb a tree? What were you trying to prove to me?" I knelt between his legs, squaring myself to him, wanting to see as well as hear his answer.

"Nothin'. Trying to prove somethin' to myself."

"What? That you can make me run for phones and ladders?"

He grinned and tilted his head, looking down at my scratched palm in his big hand. Then he sighed. "Riley, you know the kinda work I do. Getting' hurt is always a possibility. Hopefully, if Dino and I do it right, not a probability . . . but always a possibility. Last time it happened I was younger, and next time, even if it's tomorrow, I'll be older. Don't heal as fast as I used to."

He shuffled in the crispy leaves, pulled me to his chest and I cuddled there.

"At first, seeing Dee's face, I thought, 'fuck, she's gonna bloody leave me if I scare her like this again.' So I pushed. Wanted to show her I'm able to recover quickly."

"She's not going to leave you, Terry. Ever."

"I know. I know that now. But love, I need to prove a few things to myself. See, you're the first Sister I've had a real visit with since I'm stronger. Saw Nat," he grinned. "Right after Cairo. Fuck. Gave her one hell of a hard time too. I owe her."

"But what on earth do you have to prove to yourself? You, of all people, know who you are, the strength you have."

Again he sighed. "Yeah, well do ya remember what I said last night? >Bout getting enough head to last me a while?"

I nodded into his shoulder.

"It's the fuckin' truth. At first, couldn't get any traction, mate." He chuckled. "Then, not enough stamina. See, Riles, one of the things most important to me . . . between the sheets . . . is to please. To give a bit of myself. And to give it right. Good."

I pulled from his grasp. "You give all the time, Terry. Jesus, the reason I love you so much is that your heart is always in the right place. Always. When are you going to learn to receive? That's what I want to know."

He blinked.

"Don't you realize that all that head you got was someone else's desire to give a bit of themselves? And to give it right? To give it good. . . to you?" I set my hand on his beautiful face, brushed a soft kiss on his perfect lips. "You are such a good man, Terry. That's why we all love you. That's why we all worry about you. What if something happened to one of us? Brother or Sister?"

He drew in a breath, but I didn't let him respond.

"I'll tell you exactly what you'd do. You'd be there. You'd be worried. And you'd be giving something of yourself. Wouldn't you want us to accept that? In the way you've offered it?"

"Is this a ploy to give me head?" He teased, that famous Thorne dehumanizing armor back in place.

My heart sank. I looked at my watch, readied to stand. "The chicken's probably done."

"Hey," he grasped my hand.

I didn't want to face him. Didn't want to feel like I'd crossed a line with him.

"Look at me, Riley." His finger chucked under my chin. "I hear what you're sayin'. I do. And I'll do my best to start accepting. Happy now?"

"Do I get to give you head?"

He rolled his eyes and I laughed. "Let's go home. It's fuckin' cold out here."

***

Dinner turned out great, considering I spent so little time on it. A nice baby spinach salad with blood orange vinaigrette. Coq au vin over fresh made pappardelle pasta, and French vanilla bean ice cream I made last week, drowned in creme de menthe.

Terry helped me with the dishes. I fully expected him to head for the love seat, relax for a while. But with a sweep of his arm, he lifted me and carried me to bedroom.

"Let's make it an early night, love." There was a glow in his eyes no woman in her right mind would refuse.

"I think ya need a massage, after that tumble ya took," he said, removing my clothes and pointing to the bed. I sat, groaned. My tail bone was aching like crazy, shooting all the way to my shoulders. "On your belly Riles."

He got a glass of warm water and set a bottle into it.

"Thought your bag of tricks was empty."

"It's just some massage oil. Thought you might be rubbin' it on me this week
but . . ." And he stripped. Sitting beside me, he pushed my hair from my face and kissed my forehead. Then he rubbed oil in his hands. Pressing a soft slide along my shoulders I felt myself immediately relax. I had been tensing against the stupid ache in my butt, and Terry's warm, slippery hands were demanding all my attention.

He straddled over my legs and pressed a long, deep rub up and down my back, then along my spine before concentrating on my neck and shoulders. As I melted under his fingers, he moved lower, slipping from the center of my back out and up to my shoulders.

"Jesus, how did you learn to do this so well," I moaned, melting under his touch.

"Know lots of things, love." His palms ran down my sides, over my ribs and to the small of my back. There his thumbs worked smooth circles, loosening the tightness that was fighting the growing bruise. Gentling his pressure, he massaged the globes of my ass, bringing tingles that traveled the length of my spine.

"Ahh."

"Good?"

"So good."

"Relax, love. Just relax."

And there he was, giving again. Taking care of everyone else. Taking care of me. If it didn't feel so damn wonderful, I might have sat up and argued with him. But like I said before, Terry Thorne is a master.

Gently, his oiled fingers pressed over my tail bone. I tightened, groaned. Even his lightest touch was hurting. And I wondered, what pain must he have endured? Tolerated? Just to get himself to the level of strength and health he was in that day? How dare I even make a sound? Again, he pressed lightly with his palm on the aching area. The press went deeper. Then deeper, till I actually cried out.

"Oh God, I'm sorry. I feel so damn stupid."

Terry gently smoothed my legs open and knelt between them. Kissing the back of my neck, he whispered. "Relax, love. I can fix this. But ya gotta relax. You gonna trust me, Riles?" Another kiss, this time on my lips. "What do ya say? Can ya concentrate and relax? It'll just take a minute, love."

I nodded. Sure, I could do what he asked. After all, it was kind of like a challenge, right? I took a deep breath and let my muscles soften, my mind focus on keeping them that way. Trusting Terry.

With another even, deep press of his palm on my tail bone, he whispered. "Keep breathin', love." As his palm applied gentle pressure, his oiled finger slid into my anus, easy, slipping slowly all the way. Then he pressed the fingertip up against the downward press of his palm.

I was concentrating on breathing. Feeling myself tense, forcing myself to relax. His palm pressed deeper. Then deeper. Then I swear I heard my tail bone pop right back into place! I felt it thud. And like a miracle, the pain immediately stopped. I groaned a loud sigh of relief. He slid his finger out, lifted his palm slowly. "There. All better."

"Ah." I moaned, unsure how I felt about the procedure, but unbelievably grateful that he'd done it. The last thing I wanted was to be miserable the rest of the week.

"Now," his big hands took my hips and lifted them high. "On your knees, woman. Been lookin' at this sweet ass and I think I wanna keep the view."

I settled on my knees, buried my face in the pillow and marveled at how good I felt. But it was nothing compared to how good he was about to make me feel. Terry spread more oil on his hands and then covered himself with it. With an enticing slide, he moved over me, lifting me up on my hands. His warm, oiled hands massaged my loose breasts making me sigh his name. Fingers plucked slippery pulls on my nipples as his lips caressed my neck. He moved sensuously over me, his skin silky, pressing excitement straight through to my soul.

Taking his cock in hand, he teased me, running it through my folds, across the swollen trigger. He slid harder against my clit. I could feel his growing heat against mine and gasped, wanting more, wanting all of him. This time, Terry accommodated, sliding that remarkable, hard desire into me smoothly, with direct demand. I pressed back against him, loving the slithery feel of our skin's friction. As one hand continued to love my breast, the other went to work in my pussy, fighting the slide of his cock, matching its rhythm.

I reached between my legs and felt his balls, soft and loose in my opened palm. I let them slide across my hand, the hair tickling; the heat nearly unbearable. Then I felt them rise, tighten. Terry pressed lightly on my shoulder.

"Down, love," he hissed, lifting my hips higher, pulling them tight against his thrusts. Thrusts that became short pounds, the head of his cock slipping and sliding against the inside trigger as his fingers fired me from the outside.

I came without warning, exploding with a cry and shivering against him. Terry leaned down over me, the oil making everything feel like we were under water, sliding against each other, rolling in the tide. His thrusts accelerated, fevering me higher and higher, feeling him knock on the door of my womb. And when he came, I could swear he was pulsing heat into that door.

"Fuck!" he shouted, jutting against me, holding me tight in his hands as I gasped, finding my way beck to earth, returning to the sheets and his warmth.

We dropped to his side, laughing. The smile on his face absolutely brilliant, his eyes bright. He was panting, pulling me over his body, the rumble of his laughter shaking me nearly off. I grasped to his neck, sliding over the oil and trying to laugh through my own gasps.

That, my Sisters, is why I ask for Terry Thorne so often. That. His laughter, his smile, his caring nature and his amazing ability to make me feel like the most wonderful woman walking the earth today. And the next game? I won't tell. He reads these diaries, you know. What fun would it be if he had that advantage. Heh?

Love you, Terry!