After we've been dancing for awhile, I kiss his shoulder. He pulls back, assessing my face, "You are tired," he strokes my cheek.
"More emotionally than physically, it's not every day a woman wakes up in the middle of a fairy tale," I say as I take his stroking hand to kiss his fingers. "Plus, we've created a bit of a mess that we need to clean up."
He looks at the area and nods. There's the chaise, the cart, clothes and condoms strewn about, and the can of whipped cream that lays discarded at the bottom of a tree.
"We trashed our own place," I state the obvious.
He laughs at me, "We did."
I walk over to my panties and pull them on, after I find my bra, I take off my robe and put that on.
Prince gathers the bowls, champagne glasses, chocolate sauce, whipped cream and leftover strawberries, they are placed into a large cooler that's located behind the tree. He pushes the cart, now with only the champagne in its bucket, next to the cooler.
I have gotten back into my dress, and have collected the used condoms, slipping them back into their foil packets. Prince comes up behind me to zip my dress before he locates and pulls on his pants. He doesn't put his shirt back on, but pulls on his jacket. I think it looks sexy with the patch of skin and hair showing, I pause just long enough to run my finger along his chest. His eyes watch my finger before looking into mine, then he glances at the top of the piano where the last condom sits. I gently mouth the word 'no' and he nods, taking his shirt, our shoes and robes to the car.
When the area is tidy he asks, "Are you up for one more song?"
"Of course. You know I can't get enough of you and your playing."
I also know that he's only brought the acoustic guitar with him and, from what I've witnessed and heard, I feel it's cathartic for him when he plays the piano in the wee hours of the morning. I sit beside him, but at the edge, so I'm out of his way for him to play.
He pats the bench right next to him, "Closer, Sugar, I can still play."
I move closer, he pulls my head down onto his shoulder and begins to play. It's a slow, but lilting melody. With my head on his shoulder, I'm forced to move with his gentle sway as he plays. This, coupled with the music, feels almost as intimate as when we make love.
After he plays the last note, he lifts his hands from the keys, letting them rest on his legs, but he doesn't move. I start to lift my head, but his right hand comes up to hold it still, "Shhhhhhh, let's stay like this for a minute," he rests his head onto mine. When I reach my hand onto his lap, he takes mine in his, letting his thumb toy with the engagement ring. This is a big deal, I think to myself, for the both of us, it's apparent in the way he keeps acknowledging the ring on my finger. He kisses the top of my head, "Let's get you home, Sugar," after he stands, he takes my hand.
We make it halfway back to the car when we both stop and turn, taking in the scene one more time before we leave. We met here, now we're engaged here, instantly I know this is where I would love to the have the wedding.
I turn to look at him, the expression on my face must have projected my question before I could vocalize it. His whole face gleams with anticipation as he waits.
My eyes fill with tears seeing him so happy, "Can we get married here?"
A huge smile crosses his face, as his eyes take on a brighter sparkle, "I was waiting all night for that." He kisses my cheek, "Of course, Baby, it's the perfect place."
In the car he holds my hand and we sneak smiles at each other all the way home. When he pulls into the garage, everything is left in the car as we make our way into the house and to the bedroom. He slips into the bathroom, I hear the shower start.
When he comes out, he's already naked, and heads straight for the zipper on my dress, "Come on, let's get cleaned up."
My beautiful dress is dropped unceremoniously into a pile again and he kisses my neck before unhooking my bra. I peek over my shoulder at him, his face relaxed, he's intent on what he's doing. When his gaze focuses lower I feel his fingers slip under the sides of my panties before he eases them down, then he frowns.
His fingers brush over each of my hips tenderly, but his face is pained as he looks up at me. "What's wrong?" I ask.
"I bruised you," he moves in front of me, "Sugar, I'm so sorry." He palms my cheeks and presses his forehead to mine.
"Prince, don't feel bad, I bruise easily," I meet his eyes, "Plus, I wasn't exactly complaining, was I?"
He almost looks embarrassed, "No, you weren't," as he examines the bruises his thumbs left on the front of my hips.
I place my finger under his chin, making him look up at me, "It's not the first time you've bruised me. You leave them on my thighs all the time from holding me still when you go down on me. I don't ever want you to stop doing that, and you can fuck me anytime."
His mouth falls open in surprise, I suck-kiss his lower lip before I turn and head to the shower. I'm testing the water as he enters, he still looks stunned. I smile at him before I step under the spray, closing my eyes, I relax as the warm water rushes over me. I feel a kiss on my shoulder, my eyes open to see him reaching for my shower gel and sponge.
He takes his time washing every inch of me, he pauses to kiss the bruises. At one point he places his splayed fingers over my shrinking belly, even I can see the changes in my body as the weight comes off. Something tells me this fascination isn't about the weight loss, but about what he's hoping to see, and that's me carrying his child.
When he's finished with me, I wash him. I take as much time and care as he did with me. I love this bathing ritual almost as much as making love, it's still all about the intimacy and connection.
We towel dry, leaving the chaos in our wake. Towels and clothes are strewn about, but we don't care as we snuggle up to each other in the bed. His arm comes around my waist in typical Prince fashion, except tonight I fall asleep with the feel of his fingers toying with the engagement ring.
