Christmas Staycation

by Esme Devlin

  Everything.

  But he doesn’t let me go. Instead he settles his thigh up close between my legs and pushes just enough for the pressure to send me grinding against him.

  His mouth moves back to my neck, and every kiss is sheer torture, making my back arch and my hips fight against the sensations.

  If I needed him before, then I’m desperate now.

  “Lewis,” I say his name on a sigh as he sucks harder on my neck.

  Trying to break my hands free again, I wriggle some more and he finally lets me go. But it doesn’t stop him, if anything it only makes him hungrier.

  I tug on the fabric of his clothes, desperately trying to get rid of them. He does the same with my own pyjama top, pulling it up and over my head easily. His fingers snake around my back and I arch for him while he unclips my bra and slides it down my arms.

  Moments later his chest is pressed hard up against mine, and the feel of the hair on his chest against my nipples sends shivers of pleasure pulsing to my core.

  His mouth covers mine again while he pushes my shorts down my hips, and suddenly I feel my own wetness pressed up against the fabric of his jeans.

  And then he moves.

  He moves lower.

  Kissing me the whole way, his hands exploring every inch of my body.

  Without him on top of me I feel exposed… the side of my body facing the fire burning up while the side pitched in darkness shivers from the cold.

  “You’re just how I always pictured you,” he says, his hands cupping each of my breasts and kneading them. “Fucking beautiful.”

  I blush and close my eyes while his thumbs press down on my nipples. My thighs squeeze together around him and I think I might die if he doesn’t fuck me this very second.

  “Lewis… please,” I whisper.

  But still he doesn’t. His mouth covers my nipple and as he swirls his tongue around, making my hips buck. It’s like I’m not even in control of my own body anymore. He’s the one pulling the strings and I’m just dancing to his tune.

  “Say it again,” he says. “Tell me what you want.” He moves across and repeats the motion, the cold air connecting with the wet trail he just left.

  “I want you,” I tell him. “Right now.”

  He chuckles and I feel it in my fucking bones.

  My hands run through his hair while he devours me, my nails trailing further down to his neck, his back, across his wide shoulders. “Please,” I sigh.

  Slowly he shifts his weight back up, trailing kisses the whole way. His hand slides between us and undoes the button on his jeans. “I’m going to fuck you just like you want because it’s been eight long years coming,” he says. “But next time… next time you’re going to cry for it. Next time you’re going to beg for it.” Another kiss, hard, right on my lips. “Next time you’re going to need it like you need to breathe.”

  He positions himself at my entrance and I’m holding my breath while he works his tongue deeper into my mouth. I don’t think he’s breathing either.

  It’s like time is standing fucking still.

  Then he pushes in, all the way in, and lets out a low guttural sound like it’s fucking painful for him.

  “Fuck,” he says the word into my mouth while I squeeze my thighs hard around his body. His hands cup the sides of my face and the pressure becomes too much. I can’t move. I can’t think. I can barely breathe.

  But still it feels so fucking right and when he finally moves inside me my whole body turns to liquid heat under him.

  He’s slow at first, firm and controlled even though I can tell he’s holding back. I want to tell him he doesn’t have to be… I want to tell him that I can take it whatever way he wants to give it, but I don’t think I’m capable right now.

  I can’t find the words so instead I just kiss him and trial my fingers down the length of his back. Firm and controlled at first and then gradually harder… faster… more desperate.

  My nails dig further into his skin and he moans right in my ear before slamming into me. I whimper from the shock of it, but this only seems to spur him on even more.

  And now he’s started he can’t stop. He drives into me harder, faster, until I can’t even be sure of my own name. His hands curve around my ass, tilting my hips and pulling my whole body up closer to him until his cock is hitting places inside me I didn’t even know existed.

  The sounds that are coming from my mouth aren’t my own… but neither are the ones coming from him. The more he does it — the harder he goes — the closer I get.

  His fingers squeeze tighter against my ass and I cry out in pain... it doesn’t stop him though. Nothing could stop him. And I’m pleased because the worse the pain gets, the better it makes things… the more I inch closer until finally. Finally. I’m falling.

  My whole body shakes as pure fucking ecstasy rips through my body. His hands move up beneath me to my back and shoulders, wrapping me up and holding me tightly, squeezing me, and it’s exactly what I need. I feel myself tighten around him as I come, and it’s exactly what he needs too, because a moment later he squeezes me so tight I think I’m seeing stars. His cock throbs as heat erupts between my legs, warm and soothing and too perfect for words.

  “Fuck, Isla,” he says, before collapsing down on top of me.

  I fight to get enough air in me while his chest rises and falls against my own. I’m hot, so fucking hot but still I want him close to me.

  He lays his head down on my chest while he tries to catch his breath and I lean towards him, planting a kiss on the top of his head.

  My eyes close… I feel dopey and tired and right. So fucking right, like I’m whole. And it’s the strangest thing because I’ve never felt like this before in my life, and I never expected to, either.

  Finally his breath steadies and he shifts his weight off me. I feel empty for a minute but he quickly pulls me back down on top of him, and now I’m the one resting my head on his chest while he kisses the top of my head and wraps his thick arms around me.

  “So,” he says, clearing his throat. “Was it worth the wait then?”

  I lift my head so I can see his face before I reply.

  He looks… smug.

  He knows what he did to me, the bastard.

  I smile him. “I refuse to make your head grow any larger than it already is.”

  Chapter 13

  LEWIS

  I think we must have fallen asleep on the floor in front of the fire because I remember waking up in the middle of the night and having to carry her lazy naked ass up to the sofa.

  Pretty sure we kissed, too. Just to keep the cold at bay.

  Obviously.

  I wake up for real when it’s still dark outside and untangle myself from her limbs, making a beeline for my clothes before I catch my death. The fire has long gone out, so that’s the first thing I sort out, thinking at least it will be toasty by the time she wakes up.

  Then I do the usual. I let Kimber out the back and light the candles to get the coffee started. I’m saying “the usual” like it’s the most normal thing in the world — and that’s because it’s starting to feel like it. Which is funny considering it hasn’t even been that long.

  But I guess being stuck in one place with only the one person for company makes time feel different.

  Which explains why what happened last night happened.

  I mean, it was bound to happen. We’ve had unfinished business for years… so adding alcohol and cabin fever into the mix was a recipe for disaster. And I have no doubt in my mind it was a recipe for disaster.

  We’re clearly not going to be stuck here for ever. She’s going to leave. She has this whole fucking life dotting all over the continent, with her fancy hotels and her high-powered managerial job. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t compete with that. I couldn’t even manage to get myself out of this town, and now I’m too old and too jaded to want to.

  So in hindsight, fucking her last night probably wasn’t one of my smartest ideas. It t
ook me more time than normal to get over her last time, and I thought about her way too much over the years… which is clearly ridiculous because nothing ever happened between us. I was mourning the fantasy of what I wanted to happen… not the real thing.

  But now I’ve had a taste of the real thing.

  And I fucking liked what I tasted.

  I sit down at the kitchen table while I wait for the water to boil and tell myself — again — that I need to pull my shit together. She’s leaving. Get over it.

  The only thing I can do is enjoy what time we have left together.

  Then I can move on, properly this time.

  Kimber scratches at the door and I get up to let her in. I’d thrown her out earlier without a second thought, but this time I shove my boots on. A wee bit cold air will probably do my head wonders.

  First thing I notice when I get outside is that it’s not snowing any more. The second is that it’s nowhere near as cold as it has been, and the snow has melted considerably.

  I bet if I took the car and the chainsaw down to that tree I could have it chopped and shifted before Isla even opened her eyes.

  The thought of that has me feeling things I shouldn’t be feeling. If I did that, then we really would have no excuse to stay here. And I’m a selfish old bastard.

  “Lewis?”

  Her voice pulls me out of my thoughts and I turn around in the direction of the door. I can only vaguely make out her silhouette, the only light coming from the candles in the kitchen behind her and the faint glow of the crescent moon.

  I make my way over to the door and feel for her, my hand connecting with her bare shoulders. “Christ woman, you’re freezing. Get you’re arse back inside.”

  She has only the blanket wrapped around her and her skin is cold to touch. “I got worried when I couldn’t find you,” she says.

  “What did you think, I’d done a runner?” I guide her over to the chair and cross the room to check the water. “I was going to make you breakfast in bed.”

  “Oooh. What’s on the menu?”

  “Only the finest imported Italian coffee, otherwise known as Nescafe from the eighties. And a delicacy we call shortbread that’s not stale, it’s just matured.”

  She giggles. “You’re too good to me, you know that?”

  “Believe me, darlin, we both fucking know that.”

  I make the coffee and we take it and the last tin of shortbread back to the living room for some heat. When this is all over, I reckon if a shortbread even thinks to look twice at me I will smash its dry face into a thousand tiny crumbs.

  But for now I’m not complaining.

  “Merry Christmas,” she says. “Do you know I’d almost forgotten about that?”

  I laugh at her, for all her bitchin’ yesterday about needing the decorations up. “What, did I fuck the Christmas spirit out of you last night or something?”

  “Lewis!” she taps me on the leg and blushes, but her face looks amused enough to me.

  “Well, someone had to mention it.” No point in tiptoeing around it and pretending like it never happened.

  “Oh the ice is well and truly broken now, darling,” she says with a chuckle.

  She takes a drink and then looks up at me. I look at her right back. It’s getting light outside. It won’t be long before she looks out of the window and sees that the snow has melted considerably. Before she asks me to go out and move the tree so she can get out of here. Gemma will have heating and food and a warm bath. Gemma will have music and clean clothes and the Queen’s fucking speech.

  I want to lock the doors and shut the curtains so she can’t see it. So she can’t ask me. But I know I’m just delaying the inevitable. Maybe what we have now is just the same as what we’ve always had — just a fun Christmas Eve.

  Maybe that was always the way it was supposed to be.

  Or maybe Santa will be good to me this year and stick a wee baby in her belly. Then she would never leave. I chuckle in my own head — selfish prick.

  “I’m going to get ready and take the dog out,” I tell her. “You coming this time?”

  She smiles. “Sure.”

  And that single word right there is the nail in the coffin.

  Chapter 14

  ISLA

  The first thing I notice when we go outside is that Lewis takes my hand. No questions, no hesitation… he just grabs on to it like it’s the most natural thing in the world to do.

  As soon as I get over the shock of it is when I notice I’m not nearly as cold as I was yesterday. The thick white clouds of fog have cleared and the low watery sun is clearly visible in the sky. The snow has melted enough that walking is easier, and I can see outlines of things under the pile now.

  If we were walking in the direction of the road, we’d be able to see the tree. And if we could see the tree, then we could cut the tree and move the tree.

  I realize surely he must know this.

  But we’re not headed in the direction of the main road and the fallen tree. We’re walking the same way we did yesterday into the thick forest.

  And strangely enough, I’m actually quite glad of that. I know I’m being stupid. I know I need to leave. I know I have a job and a life and a flight to catch on the 27th.

  I know I need to leave. I just don’t want to leave right now.

  I want to indulge myself here with him and enjoy whatever this is. A Christmas fling, I guess is what it is. And I need to keep reminding myself that it can never be anything more.

  Even if I did do the unthinkable and quit my job… what the hell would I do? Live here with him?

  He doesn’t even live here for starters. And even if he did, he clearly likes it better alone. Just him and the dog and his firewood. I imagine he lives somewhere secluded, maybe in a cabin or a little cottage by himself.

  And I hate being alone. In London I have two flatmates who live with me, I have friends always dropping by. Sometimes I have to travel and spend nights alone in a hotel and I hate it with a passion.

  Basically, I would do his head in.

  We’d be so wrong for each other.

  So why the hell am I letting my thoughts run away from me and imagining a scenario where this could actually work.

  He probably wouldn’t even want that, anyway.

  We’ve been walking for hours in no real direction. You know like when you’re driving a car and you realize you have travelled ten miles towards your destination but have no idea how you managed it? That’s what walking while talking to Lewis feels like.

  I’m not even aware of anything that’s going on around me because I’m so focused on what he’s going to say next.

  I always knew he was funny since the first night I met him, but I also couldn’t help noticing how much his light humor had changed over the years to dour-faced sarcasm. I can tell this morning he’s trying his best to not be so cynical and I’m enjoying listening to him and the stories he has of growing up in this place.

  My stomach growls and I guess it must be near lunch… shortbread doesn’t keep you filled for long.

  “We should have had the foresight to lay some traps or something… caught ourselves a wee turkey.”

  He looks down at me and lifts his eyebrow. “How many wild turkeys have you seen stoating around here?”

  I smile at him. “Alright. Pheasant then. I never realized how much I enjoyed eating birds until all I had was shortbread.”

  “The second I get home I’m going to cook myself a whole chicken and a side of steak. Fillet steak, a big slab of it. I feel about half the fucking size I was three days ago.”

  Now it’s me who’s lifting my eyebrow. He is not a small man. “The shortbread cleanse was probably a blessing in disguise, if I’m honest.”

  He laughs. “Anymore of your cheek and I’ll cleanse you right over my knee, darlin.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  By the time we get near to the castle the sun has well passed the highest point in the sky. After he chased me for t
easing him, caught me and put me over his shoulder to “teach me a lesson” we agreed that we wouldn’t last until tomorrow without food.

  So he agreed to take the car and the chainsaw down the road and sort it out.

  I didn’t ask him what that meant for us, or if he’d go home tonight, or if he planned to take me to Gemma’s house, because I didn’t want to hear the answer. But I’ve spent the whole walk back to the castle thinking about it.

  As soon as the trees clear enough for the castle to come into view, I realize I shouldn’t have concerned myself with those thoughts.

  I was worrying for nothing.

  We have company.

  “That’s Jamie’s car,” he says as we emerge from the trees.

  “Gemma’s husband Jamie?”

  He looks down at me and nods.

  “But how did he get the car in?”

  If Jamie can get his car in, that means I can get my car out.

  Well, maybe not my shitty little city car. But definitely Lewis’s big 4x4 Discovery.

  It hits me that there won’t be a repeat of last night tonight.

  That was it. A one time only deal.

  It makes me sad but I tell myself I’ll remember it forever.

  “Jamie?” Lewis opens the door and calls out to him, but it’s Gemma who appears in the kitchen, not Jamie.

  “Isla!” Her face lights up when she sees me and she opens her arms out for a hug. She’s lost some weight since I last saw her and her blonde hair has grown out from the short bob she had. I embrace her, breathing in her perfume that hasn’t changed since we were teenagers. It’s DKNY Delicious, and it smells like apples. “We didn’t even know if you’d made it here, but then we saw the car. God, I’ve missed you!”

  I pull back, grinning and showing all my teeth. I’ve seriously missed her and it’s only now I’m realizing how much.

  “We’ve been stuck here for two days,” I tell her. “The power went out and we’ve had no heating and now we’re out of food, too.”