by Poppy Parkes
Ginger is breathless too, tiny pants forming puffs of condensation in the air between us.
There’s too much air between us. I lower my head to hers, eyes asking the question I’m afraid to voice.
She responds by lacing her fingers around the back of my neck and tugging my face to her waiting lips.
I take my first taste of her. She is all softness and fire, vanilla and spice, taking and giving. Her kisses fly between being gentle and demanding in a way that makes my heart thump.
Her teeth are on my bottom lip, closing until I just feel a needle of pain before releasing me, moving that mouth to tend my jaw.
I drive a thigh between hers. Even through our clothes I can feel the fever gathering at the place where her legs meet. I push against her, and she groans into my neck.
I’m instantly harder than I can ever recall being. I thought I’d been aroused before. But the sound of her raw pleasure in my ear from this rough, simple touch is so much more exciting than I had reason to expect.
One of her hands grasps my hips and tugs them into her, one leg reaching around my hip, while the other grapples with my belt buckle.
Now it’s my turn to groan as I realize that she is all in, right here and now, desiring everything I have to give.
What can I do but oblige?
But first, before Ginger can release my length from my binding slacks, I pull away from her, just a little. She mews her displeasure, but quickly quietens, eyes wide but ready, when I drop to my knees before her.
Watching her face, so exquisitely flushed in the cold we both seem unable to feel through our need for one another, I slowly lift the starched satin of her dress. Beneath the waist line of her tight stretch up to her belly button.
A moan escapes me when I realize that she has nothing more on than the flimsy fabric of those stockings. I stare up to see a naughty smirk play over her lips.
But it’s her eyes that get me. Because for all that she’s brazenly offering herself to me in the dead of night, there’s a vulnerability in those green eyes that makes me want to fold her into my arms and try to keep her safe from all that life might throw at her. I want to cradle her close and cherish the glorious human that she is.
The smirk grows. She hooks both thumbs into the hem of her tights and, eyes never leaving my face, peels them down until the delicate curls of her mound are fully exposed to the winter night.
The invitation is clear, and I know exactly how to answer.
With a smirk of my own, I bury my face in those curls, damp with Ginger’s desire — her desire for me. I plant sweet kisses there, but she bucks her hips forward, insistent, and I know she’s hungry for more.
I’m a gentleman. I can only give the lady what she wants.
So I invade her folds with my tongue, tasting and lapping and letting the musk of her juices slide into my mouth with every nuzzle.
Instinctively, her legs part, allowing me greater access. She lets me drape one leg over my shoulder, enhancing her stability and giving me more angles to work with.
I glance upwards. Ginger’s head is leaning back against the tree, eyes closed and throat exposed, fingers tangling languidly in my hair as I pleasure her. Her breath comes in little pants, and when I hit just the right spot, her hips vibrate and jump.
I want to make her feel more, to feel everything that’s good. Eyes still on her face, ready to stop at the slightest indication that she’s not enjoying herself, I slip a single finger into her depths. Her lips immediately clutch at me, milking the digit. Her hips roll, seeking greater fulfillment, so I add a second finger, and then quickly a third.
Her pants become a throaty moan as I thrust my fingers into her, thumb circling her clit.
“That feels so good,” she manages, clutching at the tree trunk she’s leaning against with both hands. “So fucking good.”
I reply by replacing my thumb with my mouth at her most sensitive place, tugging and rolling at it, swirling my tongue over her clit.
She rewards me with a deep gasp, thighs clamping around my face just before her hips begin to buck and twitch. I shove my fingers into her all the deeper, relishing how tight she’s become — and how, impossibly, harder I am.
If I could be the one to send this woman’s body and mind cascading into shuddering pleasure for the rest of her days, I’d die a happy man.
I spiral my tongue all the faster. Her first orgasm barely finished, she shatters into fresh pleasure, her sweet wetness in my mouth the only sugar and spice a man could ever need.
Ginger
I might feel ridiculous, fucking a guy I hardly known in the woods behind my mother’s house like some teenager.
Except my orgasms — yes, plural — are so damned good that they leave no room for any other feeling than pure pleasure.
Nat grasps my buttocks with strong hands, pulling them apart as he dives back into my slit. And as good as his mouth is on my vulva, I want more than just his tongue and a few fingers in me.
I grab his suit jacket and haul him upwards. He obeys, standing, and I kiss him hard, my juices slick on my own tongue now.
“Is everything okay?” he asks, words breathy, eyes dark with — I hope — everything he promises to do to me.
“Fantastic,” I say, voice trembling. “But I need you.” I cradle the sizable bulge pressing the front of his pants forward “I need all of you.” My eyes flick to his. “Please?”
It’s the last syllable that seems to undo him. The emotions that flick across his face show me both a fortitude and a tenderness that make my chest feel as if it’s splitting open to make room for everything I feel for this man.
I don’t quite know how it’s possible, but I believe that I’m falling for Nat. Every moment that we spend together sees me further gone.
I’m not upset about it.
I feel so fucking good when I’m around him. So good that I’m barely aware of the snow melting inside my heels. My toes should be freezing cold, my stockinged legs covered in goosebumps, but I’m warmed by Nat’s presence. In the winter dark, I find that all that I care about is how my pussy lips are clenching at Nat’s touch.
I hear the metallic clinking of his belt as he opens it, and a shiver that has nothing to do with the temperature sweeps over my flesh. Giddy, I turn around and pull up the skirt of my dress, frigid air kissing my bare ass. With my hands I brace against the tree, ready for Nat to take me.
When I feel his hands on my shoulders, I bit my bottom lip, heart racing at the prospect of him filling me.
But instead of thrusting his manhood into my waiting wetness, he gently pulls me toward him. He turns me so that he can press into my lips a kiss so sweet that actual tears spring to my eyes.
“No,” he rasps. “I went to see your face when I take you.”
All I can do is nod. What else can a woman do when the gorgeous man you’re with tells you he want to see your expression as he sinks his cock into you?
Taking small steps toward me, our shoes crunching in the light layer of snow that has made it to the forest floor, Nat advances until my back presses against the bark of the tree once again. Knowing that he’ll support me no matter what, I knot both my legs around his waist, rubbing my wet pussy against his lower belly.
Nat makes one barely perceptible adjustment and then his cock is pressing forward, sliding inch by glorious inch into my ready depths.
My head falls forwards onto his shoulder as he supports me with taut muscles, gasping at how he fills me. The tip of him nudges places within me I didn’t know had sensation. I’ve never been more glad to be proven wrong.
When he begins to withdraw, I have to suppress a whimper. I know that he’s only pulling back to fill me afresh, but even so the brief emptiness within me feels excruciating.
Nat’s strokes are long and slow and even despite the fact that his breath is as ragged as mine. His neck muscles flex when he’s sunk fully into me, and the sight of it shoots electric sensation into my low belly.
T
he pace of his pants increase and so do the speed of his thrusts. I drive my hips forward to meet every one, grunts escaping me with every convergence.
His thickness feels so perfect inside me that it takes me long moments to realize that he’s slipped a hand between us, a finger circling my clit.
I feel my orgasm building from deep within my core, traveling down my belly to bind my pussy closed around Nat’s hardness. My vulva’s lips are the last to draw together, encasing him in my pulsating ecstasy. My cries are loud among the trees now, but I don’t care if anyone hears. In this moment as Nat joins me in his own climax, there is only me and this man, everything I ever need and never thought to expect.
When Nat and I steal back into the party, it feels like we’re visiting from another planet. I glance at the clock over my mother’s mantel — it’s been less than an hour since the two of us stole away for our wintery tryst. And yet it feels like whole timelines have shifted and we’re no longer inhabiting the same reality.
Which, perhaps, is true in a way. Because I certainly would not call our time outdoors a mere tryst. It felt like not only the most unlikely lovemaking, but also the promise of something more.
It felt like the beginning.
I don’t know what it’s the beginning of, exactly. But when I meet Nat’s eyes and see how they shine extra for me, I know that I’m not the only one who feels this way.
My mother bustles up, a half-eaten empanada on the plate she’s carrying. “Nat, you’ve really outdone yourself with these.” She nods to her plate. “I don’t know that I’ve ever tasted something so simultaneously sweet and savory. It’s heavenly.”
He ducks his head in acknowledgement, that smile that warms me plucking at the corners of his mouth. “Thank you. They’re an experiment gone very right. Unlike some of my others.”
“Nonsense. Everything you make is delicious.” She turns to me. “Ginger, have you tried any of what Nat has to offer?”
I try to swallow the sudden laughter that swells in me, my recently sexed mind hearing only an accidental double entendre in my mother’s innocent words. I glance at Nat and see that he’s fighting the same battle.
“Um,” I say, struggling to keep the giggles out of my voice and almost succeeding. “Yes, I’ve, uh, sampled quite a bit of his goodies.” I look him square in the eyes. “I’m very satisfied. Although I hope that this won’t be the only time I get to.”
The humor in his eyes quietens. Nat’s tone is as solid as stone when he answers. “I’ll make it my life’s work to ensure you’ll never be without anything I have to offer ever again, if that’s what you want.”
I step closer to him, breathing in his delicious scent. I’m already hungry for more of him. “You bet your ass it is.”
He sweeps an arm around my waist, making my mother’s eyebrows shoot skyward with delight, sudden visions of grandchildren dancing in her head. “You know, I’ve considered expanding Sugar & Spice, maybe even franchising.”
“San Francisco wouldn’t be the same without you there.” I feel my eyes dancing playfully, but I mean every word I say. My gut tells me that Nat does too.
“I was thinking exactly the same thing,” he says with a grin. “Know anyone that might be able to show me the town, introduce me to a few people, maybe even share a home with me?”
“I know exactly the right person,” I murmur, unexpected tears welling in my eyes. How can this be happening? Just twenty-four hours ago, my life felt so different. Now I’m dreaming of a future with a man that I just met but that I instinctively feel is one that will make my life more and more beautiful every day that we’re together.
Nat is not what I expected to find when I visited Snowdon this year. But it turns out that he just might be everything I never knew I needed.
“I agree,” he growls in a voice that’s just for me. “I think she’s exactly the right person for me too.”
Also by Poppy Parkes
Our Happy Holiday
Falling Into You
First Time Player
Cowboy’s Pride
Mister Cowboy
Giddy Up, Cowgirl
Her Declaration of Independence
Accidental Valentine
The Light Between Us
Finding Me and You
Wedding Jitters
A Love Note For You
Dear wonderful reader,
Thank you so much for reading Hot for the Holidays! I hope you enjoyed Ginger and Nat’s love story as much as they did. ;)
If you’d like to stay in touch and be the first to know about fresh releases and sizzling deals, I invite you to sign up for my mailing list.
If you have a few moments, I’d be so grateful if you considered leaving a review for Hot for the Holidays here on Amazon. This helps your fellow readers know if it’s the right book for them.
Thanks again for reading! It means the world to me. You rock!
Love,
Poppy xo
Acknowledgments
Thank you to Sara and Katherine for reading my smut and catching all my typos. You are the best. :)
About the Author
Poppy Parkes is the author of sweet and hot love stories. Poppy writes, paints, and dreams in the mountains, where she raises her two boys. She is in love with luscious color, moon-gazing, and dancing wild. And coffee. And wine. And chocolate. You know how it is.
www.poppyparkes.com
