Unproven Chapter Sixty "Tickle Torture Commence"

If you're loved by someone, you're never rejected, decide what to be and GO BE IT
-The Avett brothers

Recommend Reading Introduction to Unproven

DEFINITELY READ Prologue

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three

Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six

Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two Chapter Twenty Three Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Five Chapter Twenty Six Chapter Twenty Seven

Chapter Twenty Eight Chapter Twenty Nine Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty One Chapter Thirty Two Chapter Thirty Three

Chapter Thirty Four Chapter Thirty Five Chapter Thirty Six

Chapter Thirty Seven Chapter Thirty EightChapter Thirty Nine

Chapter Forty Chapter Forty One Chapter Forty Two

Chapter Forty Three Chapter Forty Four Chapter Forty Five

Chapter Forty Six Chapter Forty Seven Chapter Forty Eight

Chapter Forty Nine Chapter Fifty Chapter Fifty One

Chapter Fifty Two Chapter Fifty Three
Chapter Fifty Four

Chapter Fifty Five Chapter Fifty Six Chapter Fifty Seven

Chapter Fifty Eight
Chapter Fifty Nine

Chapter Sixty

Ary burst into the cabin laughing so hard she could barely breathe. Gray was right on her heels and she tried not to look at him, knowing when she did he was going to mime her antics and change her laughter into hysterics. She had LOVED every minute of the day, including the times she'd fallen on her butt while trying to master the Hockey Stop, which was far superior to the snowplow. Learning it was the only way to graduate from the bunny hill which she desperately wanted to do.

Her giggles died down and she chanced a look at Grayson who was waiting for her to do just that. He mocked the jump sideways slide then pin-wheeled his arms, crashing to the floor with an exaggerated oomph. She giggled some more but the danger of hysterical laughter had passed.

"I can't wait until I'm good enough to do three-sixties while beginners gawk at me in admiration!"

Grayson waggled his brows, "I am pretty damn good, aren't I? But you'll be hard pressed to learn that without mastering your turns, and since you are all about the straight down, more speed the better approach, that will take a while."

She grinned, he was so right, there was nothing like the feeling of speed. She'd quickly learned how to go faster by crouching low while leaning forward, and with the wind whistling past her ears it was about as close to flying as you could get on land.

He frowned slightly.

"What?"

"We really do need to work on your turns, and if you don't get them down by the time you go with Dori you have to promise me you'll master them before trying any serious hills. Speed is the fastest way to get yourself hurt, even killed, if you don't have control."

She nodded solemnly, "I promise I won't do anything dangerous."

He wrapped his arms around her waist, "I'll hold you to that."

She smiled up at him, loving the intensity in which he was regarding her. Her safety being of such importance was warming her in a way that external heat couldn't begin to.

"I don't know about you, but I'm thinking the hot tub and a couple glasses of champagne is the perfect ending to this day." Grayson grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the kitchen without waiting for a response.

A few minutes later they were settled in the tub, Ary's legs in Grayson's lap, each holding a glass of bubbly.

"A toast to your first day as an official skier," Grayson put his glass in the air and Ary followed suit.

"It tickles," Ary giggled as the bubbles went up her nose.

"Don't you love that?"

She nodded, "This is really good."

"It should be, it came from my dad's private stock."

She raised an eyebrow, "Will he notice?"

He shrugged, "He won't mind."

She frowned slightly, thoughts of Mr. Teller bringing up bad memories.

"Hey, what's that look for?"

"I don't know, just your dad...I feel like there's a time limit to his understanding of our relationship and..."

He held up a hand to stop her, "No, you will absolutely not spend one moment of our beautiful weekend worrying about him, I forbid it." He grabbed her foot and tickled it for emphasis.

"You're making me spill my drink!" She sputtered, putting the glass down on the shelf beside her before it ended up in the tub.

He grinned and gave her foot one last stroke before releasing her. "I love how ticklish you are, it's a weapon I'm not afraid to use."

"Oh really? You might change your mind the first time you get kicked in the face," She told him, trying not to smile, "and don't think I'm kidding."

"You'd kick me in the face?"

"It's a reflex, it actually takes more willpower not to kick you."

He smirked and narrowed his eyes, "I think we should put this to the test."

She yanked her legs away and scrambled to get out of the tub, screeching when he lunged and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her backward and holding her tightly against him. "Where do you think you're going?" He whispered next to her ear causing her to shiver. She tried to wiggle free but he only squeezed tighter.

"Keep doing that," he said huskily.

She breathed in sharply and stilled as she felt him lengthen and harden against her bottom. His skin was hot and not just from the warmth of the tub, the kind of heat that made her feel boneless, and drained every ounce of her resistance. He nudged her legs apart and kept a hold of her with one arm, using his free hand to pose himself at her entrance. He moved the hand to her stomach and spread out his fingers, pushing down on her abdomen as he thrust upward. Her head dropped back and he moved his other hand to her breast massaging it as he stroked in and out. He dipped his head and kissed her neck, sucking on a spot for a moment before moving slightly and repeating the gesture. It caused a sensation that sent spikes of pleasure down the inside of her legs and she shuddered, causing her inner muscles to tense.

"Oh God," he breathed on her neck as she tightened around him. "How do you always feel so fucking amazing?"

His breath tickling across her skin pushed her gently over the edge and she made small helpless noises as she came.

"Oh God yesss," He murmured as her body convulsed around him repeatedly.

She was still coming when she felt him stiffen beneath her, his hands gripping the sides of her ass tightly, anchoring her to him. He groaned in her ear as he spilled hotly inside her, then wrapped his arms around her and laid his forehead on her shoulder. "What am I going to do without you for an entire month?" He murmured.

There was something in his tone that pulled at her, a hint of desperation laced with anxiety. It was so compelling she found her own feelings becoming a mirror and decided to pull them away from that particular edge, using humor as a diversion. She put her hand over his. "I imagine you'll need to reacquaint yourself with this," she said and patted the appendage.

He coughed out a surprised laugh, "Oh yeah? This hand you mean?" He slid his fingers under her arm and started tickling her, his other arm still holding tightly.

She was instantly laughing and tried to wriggle free but his grip was strong. He moved his hand down to the inside of her thigh, a spot second only to her feet as far as tickle torture went. Within seconds she was laughing so hard she could barely breathe let alone struggle. She wondered if someone could actually die from this, which only made her laugh harder, or more accurately wheeze unattractively. He finally let up and she gulped in air then elbowed him in the ribs.

"Ow!"

She scrambled out of the tub, inwardly vowing to deck him if he dared to grab her again. Fortunately he didn't and she grabbed a robe and slipped it on before turning to face him with the best glare she could muster, which was actually pretty terrible since her mouth still wanted to laugh. "As much as it tickles," she told him heatedly, "it also hurts. I swear there is such a thing as death by tickling!"

He grinned up at her, "You love it."

"No! I hate it!"

"Then why are you trying not to laugh?"

She shook her head in exasperation, "I don't know! There's something about tickling that crosses wires in my brain! Haven't you ever bashed that spot on your elbow they call the funny bone? It hurts like hell but you can't help but laugh? It's like that." She narrowed her eyes when he continued grinning with no hint of apology. "I'm serious Grayson! It's okay if it's only for a few seconds, but if you take it any further every ounce of my being wants to punch you in your face!"

He started laughing and she stomped her foot, which only caused him to laugh harder.

"You are so damn cute when you're angry...Punch me in my face," he laughed some more and she folded her arms over her chest.

"You don't think I'm serious? Okay, how about this, the next time you tickle me until I starve for oxygen I will withhold the booty for twenty-four hours, betcha won't be laughing then."

His laughter faded and he smirked. "Okay, okay, you got me. I will keep the tickling to a minimum…When you start to wheeze, I'll stop."

"No wheezing!" She cried instantly.

He chuckled and pulled himself out of the tub and she forgot her irritation as she took in his dripping body. It really was a thing of beauty. He put his own robe on and came toward her in a sudden movement, hoisting her over his shoulder.

"Grayson?" She squeaked nervously

He patted her rump as he strode into the bedroom, "Don't worry, no tickling. How do you feel about wrestling?"

Generously created for me by @son-of-satire

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