by Mia Madison
“Yes,” she says and we leave the tree standing there in the middle of the kitchen, the pine scent making it seem a lot more like Christmas here than it ever did before.
“You're very tidy for a guy,” she says when we get to the bedroom, the only light coming from the hallway.
Tidy? What the fuck has tidy got to do with anything? Women never cease to amaze me, the way their minds work. “What can I say? Cleaning service.” I pull her down onto the bed and kiss her as I open the buttons on her shirt, one by one, taking my time, teasing her, and unclip her bra so that her breasts tumble out, so tempting, the pale skin topped with pinky-brown tips. Her breath is ragged as she kisses me back.
CHAPTER 7
Gemma
“Beautiful,” he tells me. “You're just perfect.” I resist the urge to protest that my breasts are too small, because it seems to me like he really means what he says.
His big hands cup them and I feel the roughness there against the softness of my skin. He torments me with his touch, circling each one lightly, almost reverently, and then he rolls my aching nipples between finger and thumb and I moan, pulling at his T-shirt, lifting it up so I can run my hands over his abs, his chest.
But I don't get far with that and I don't even care because a second later he pushes my breasts together and holds them captive, his tongue running from one hard sensitized peak to the other, driving me wild.
I forget everything but his mouth on me, as he sucks hard, first one nipple then the other with his hot, wet mouth, my fingers frantic in his hair, and then he holds the engorged peak tight between his lips, flicking the bud with his tongue over and over and adding teasing nips with his teeth.
I feel my hips lifting off the bed as if they have a mind of their own and I come undone crying out his name. I open my eyes to find him looking down at me as I try to catch my breath.
Shit! Did I just come? And we are still almost fully clothed.
“So sensitive,” he says. “I love that.”
And I laugh. I loved it too!
He pulls off my shirt and bra and unzips my jeans, pulling them down, and takes them off along with my socks. I would help, but I feel so languid I can't move.
“I like these,” he says, two fingers running under the lace band of my white cotton panties, and I feel a tingle of excitement running through me at the thought of his fingers exploring further. “Okay, panties stay on for now.”
He pings the elastic and smiles, pulling his T-shirt off to give me my first sight of his hard body, the body I could only guess at in my mind but it's even better than I imagined, the smattering of hair on his chest, the smooth planes of his muscles, his hard abs, a trail of hair running down into the band of his jeans. There's no doubt he keeps himself in shape. I guess he has to for his work, but not all the firefighters at the station looked as good as this.
And then when he unfastens his jeans and sits down on the bed to take off his socks and shoes, I find the energy to get up and nuzzle behind him, my bare breasts against his back and he groans.
“You make it hard for a guy to concentrate on undoing laces,” he says.
“Definitely hard,” I whisper in his ear, running my fingers over the impressive length of him. He shrugs off his shoes. “Fuck the jeans,” he says and turns me over onto my back on the bed and I squeal, laughing. He pulls down my panties and pulls me over his lap and whacks me three times on my bottom. At first I continue to laugh, but then I feel it, the heat in my behind and I'm not laughing I'm panting over his lap, his cock pressing into my side, my panties around my thighs.
“And that's not your real punishment,” he says. “That comes later. If you're good.” His fingers trace a path over my slit. I know I'm wet for him, wetter than I've ever been.
“Bad, you mean.”
“Bad. Good. It's the same thing.” He laughs and pulls up my panties.
“What are you doing that for?” We can't stop now!
“I hadn't finished what I was doing,” he says. “Patience.” He kisses me on the nose and his fingers move between my legs very lightly, back and forth over the white cotton fabric.
I know I must be shamefully wet there, maybe the fabric is even see-through by now, drenched in arousal. His fingers are not helping. I'm sure he can see everything. And then he rolls me off his lap and onto my back and bends his head, teasing me through the thin cotton with the hot wet tip of his tongue right on my clit. My hips buck off the bed.
“Mmh!” he says. “You taste so good.” And he open his mouth and sucks at my cotton-covered mound, moving his tongue over and around with me squealing and squirming beneath him, before yanking the crotch of my panties aside and entering me with his tongue as his fingers circle my clit. And I can't help it. I lose it again, my thighs clutching his head, my back arching into him.
CHAPTER 8
Ben
She's so beautiful when she comes. It seems to take her by surprise, as if coming wasn't a natural part of sex. It doesn't look like Hot Wheels (was that the Vince guy her gran was on about?) was up to much in the sack, a thought that makes me both annoyed at the uselessness of my fellow males and pleased that she's getting what she needs from me.
But never mind him, I told Gemma to have patience but fuck, I can't wait any longer. It's killing me. I shed the rest of my clothes at lightning speed and I see her watching me, licking her lips, making my cock jump. It's obvious she likes what she sees. A lot.
I grab a condom from the drawer at the side of the bed, hoping the fucking things haven't gone out of date. It's not that I don't get plenty of offers, schoolteachers included, but that one-night stand thing is not all it's cracked up to be and I never met anyone I wanted to get to know properly for the last year or so. Not before Gemma.
“It's okay, I'm still on the pill,” she says. “If you're okay. I don't think Vince, my ex, was cheating on me. He was never like that.”
I nod. “Yes. I'm okay, I've been tested.” And she may or may not be right about her scummy ex but my cock wants to take the risk—I swear it gets even harder at the thought of being skin to skin with Gemma. And my brain cells aren't fighting the idea. At all. I'll need to slow down before I go at her like a jackhammer on speed.
She pulls me down to her. “Fuck me,” she begs, and patience goes right out of the window at her words. I kneel between her legs, and her thighs open wider welcoming me in as I position myself to enter her, rubbing the head of my cock against her folds before sliding into the tight heat of her with one smooth slow delicious deliberate stroke, opening her up, filling her, grinding my cock deep into her belly, before drawing her body closer, her soft breasts against my chest. I want to claim her, own her, spend hours tangled up in the sheets with her.
Her moans are sweetness in my ear. “So wet, so tight, honey bun, you're a fucking angel,” I tell her and then I thrust into her again, hard, over and over, pounding into her, twisting my hips to take her at different angles, making sure she feels every movement, every inch.
She squeals out her pleasure, wrapping her legs around me, as I take her deeper, harder, each plunge taking both of us closer, her fingers gripping my ass, almost unintelligible sounds from her sweet mouth urging me on.
I sense she's close, oh so close. “Come for me, Gemma,” I say, looking into her eyes. I want to watch her and feel her clench on my cock as I come and fuck if she doesn't do just that at my words. I feel her inner muscles tighten and loosen in spasms around me and her limbs shudder as I explode in blissful inevitable release, deep into her body and we ride out our orgasm together. So fucking perfect!
CHAPTER 9
Gemma
He holds me now, one hand raking through my hair as we get our breath back, his other hand stroking my spine.
That was hot and raw and I loved every moment. I loved every grunt and groan of pleasure that came from his mouth, every frenzied thrust inside me as he buried his cock deeper and deeper in me. Sex was never like this for me. Not before this. I feel like I
just discovered some special secret that only some people know.
I kiss his chest because it's like he gave me a gift and he laughs down at me. “What was that for?”
“Just because I wanted to.”
“There are lots of things I want to do to you,” he says. “Some of them involve kissing your chest, funnily enough. But all in good time.”
He kisses the top of my head, pushing my wayward hair behind my ears, and then he kisses my ears too.
I feel so cared for, lying in his arms. I can't believe I'm feeling on top of the world, being kissed and held and caressed after the miserable time I've had lately. If I'd known this was around the corner I wouldn't have shed so many tears.
“Don't forget,” he whispers in my ear, his voice low and gravelly. “There's still the matter of your punishment. Do you want it now or later?” Another shot of desire runs through me and more than anything else I know I want that now.
“Now or later?” he asks again.
“Now,” I squeak.
“No, I think later because a little anticipation is good. And besides, I want you dressed first just so I can pull your panties down again.”
I thought I was over blushing with him but apparently not. My face is beet red again. But after lying over his lap earlier I know exactly how it feels to have my panties pulled down. Fuck anticipation, I want to try that again. But I don't say anything.
“I love it when you get all shy with me,” he says. “You blush so prettily but you're not always so shy. I seem to remember you saying the most unladylike things a short while ago.”
He laughs and I smack his arm playfully.
“Anyway, are you hungry? I'm going to cook dinner,” he says, grabbing his shirt. “And it's always best to be dressed when there's any kind of naked flame or hot sauce involved. If that sauce lands here or here...” he rubs his knuckles over my nipples, and they pebble up in response, “I'd never forgive myself, so though I'd love to see you naked in my kitchen, it's a shame but I think you'd better get dressed too.”
We put on our clothes. It takes a while because we keep stopping to kiss and as many buttons get undone as done up but eventually we get there. We wander into the kitchen and Ben starts pulling a pot out of the kitchen cabinet
“Do you need to call home and let them know you'll be late?”
“I already told them I wouldn't be back for dinner. I thought I'd grab a burger after walking Sullivan. Maybe look up a friend.”
“A friend?” he says, frowning.
“I mean Katie or one of the gang—Julie or Sarah.” I like that he seems jealous of who I'm seeing.
“Have you said anything to Katie?” he asks.
“No, not yet.”
“I'll talk to her this week.”
“She's not going to like it. It was Katie who told me Stephanie was going to invite you to supper. Katie is hoping you and her mother get back together.”
“That's never going to happen. Katie was too young to know, but Stephanie is insane if she thinks there's any chance of us getting back together. She did a fine job of bringing up Katie despite that asswipe husband of hers, but there's never going to be a happy ending there. Katie's a big romantic. But I'll put her straight.”
“Why is it such a non-starter?” I really want to know, though I'm glad he's saying it wouldn't work.
“Let's just say past history. That ship sailed long ago.” He shrugs.
I can't help digging further. “Was it so bad?”
“Yes. It was.” He shuts me down.
I know it's time to change the subject. “Is there any music here?”
“Ipad over there.” He smiles again. “Choose something while I cook.”
I scroll through his collection as he gets busy with the chopping board and knife and boils up some water in the pot. I think he's making some kind of pasta thing and salad.
“I thought it might be all eighties music,” I tease.
“There's nothing wrong with eighties music,” he says, laughing. “You mean eighteen eighties, right?”
“Very funny.” I set the ipad on random because none of his collection is that bad or out-dated and he pours an inch of wine into my glass before he stops. “Can you stay over?”
“Not really. They'll send out a search party.”
“I'd better not give you any more of this, then.” He takes the wine bottle away.
“I want my own place but I need to get a better job first. Not that I don't love working with Katie, but I need to find my own way and make enough so I can buy somewhere or at least rent.”
“What do you want to do?”
“I didn't know for a long time. But the last year or so I've been into taking photographs a lot more than anything. I just don't know if I could make a go of it as a business.”
“Why not?” he asks, adding pasta to the pot of water bubbling on the stove.
“It's not that easy.”
“Probably not, but if you look at it from a really simple point of view. You point the camera. You click. There you go. Photograph. The more you take the better you get at it and maybe you take a course for the technical stuff. If you take nice photographs, people pay money for them. If you start small, you can build up a business in your spare time. What is really stopping you?”
“The not knowing, I think. What if I finally decide to go for it and it doesn't happen? There's nothing else I really want to do.”
“There's always something else. You might be destined to be the world's greatest plumber or tightrope walker. But you'll never know about photography until you try.” He stirs the sauce. It smells delicious. “What kind of pictures would you like to take?”
“I want to take pet portraits but not in a studio— out in nature. I'll show you some I took on Sunday. Hang on a minute.” I find my coat where I left it when I came in and fish my phone out of the pocket. “I took these before I bumped into you.” I liked a couple of them so much I put them on my phone. There’s one of Bertie tumbling in the mud and a close-up of Bertie against the frosted ground
“They're gorgeous. People would go crazy for pictures like these of their pets. The bakery is closed on Boxing Day, isn't it? That's my next day off. We can go out. Take the dogs up into the hills and you can take as many pictures as you like. It's a shame if you know what you want to do and then you don't do it.” He drains the pasta and mixes it with the sauce like he’s done this a million times before. Does he always cook dinner for women here?
It's as if he knows what I'm wondering. “You're madly impressed at my Raymond Blanc impersonation, aren't you?” he says.
I laugh.
“There you go, I knew it. I taught myself from cookery shows to stop myself starving. I'm a dab hand with avoiding soggy bottoms. My pies are perfection.”
“Now I know where Katie gets it from.”
“No, she's far better than me. But I had to learn. A man cannot survive on ready meals and take out alone.” He brushes his lips on mine and pours the pasta onto the plates, then tosses the salad. “Voilà. Your dinner awaits, madame.”
We sit around the kitchen table our legs brushing against each other like that first day here, all of what? Two days ago! Yes, Sunday when I took those pictures. My world seems to have changed since then.
“Seriously, why are you not working on your own business already?” he asks after we have a couple of bites, with me savoring the spicy sauce and trying not to make a mess with the spaghetti. He must already think I'm a klutz after my brush with the cupcakes. “Is it just fear in case it goes wrong?”
“I suppose there's a bit more to it than that. I knew Vince would be moving to London and I thought once we were settled there, I'd start something. Maybe study photography at art college, because I've only taught myself so far.”
“Your whole life was on hold because of him? Did he know?”
“I think he did, though we never talked about it in so many words. As soon as he got his posting, he finished with me. I expect
he thinks the streets of London are paved with women hotter than me.”
“Impossible,” Ben says gallantly. “The man is both blind and stupid if he thinks that.” He squeezes my hand. “Bastard! Though on the other hand, I can't hate him for leaving you because if he hadn't, you wouldn't be here eating spaghetti with me and I wouldn't be kissing that adorable blob of sauce off your nose.”
After dinner, I have to tear myself away. I can't stay out all night, though I'd love to wake up with Ben. I have to do something to get my own place. It never felt like an issue when Vince was around. He had an apartment his parents owned. They are probably financing another one in London. Vince always had everything easy—home, parents, girlfriend. He can count me out of that equation now, if he even thinks of me at all. And as Ben kisses me goodnight and helps me into my car, I know the best thing Vince ever did for me was that break up—even if it means I'll be super cautious driving on ice for the rest of my life.
CHAPTER 10
Ben
The station is going to be busy over Christmas. It always is. I was supposed to have the whole of Christmas Day off this year, but I already swapped my night shift with Toby back in September so he didn't have to work at all his kid's first Christmas
When I wake in the afternoon of the twenty-fifth after sleeping off the night shift, the first thing I do is text Gemma to wish her a “Happy Christmas,” and then I take Sullivan for a quick Christmas walk and give him his present before going to Stephanie's to catch Katie and Rob.
I can't help looking over at Gemma's house next door, but I don't have an excuse for calling. No one knows about us yet. I'll have to change that soon. How come every time I get the opportunity to talk to anyone about Gemma and me, it's some kind of special day so I can't rock the boat?
And I'd like to come clean right now, because Stephanie is all over me today. She even invites me to stay for a bite to eat. She's never shown that kind of Christmas spirit before. I can see Katie beaming at us too. It would be fucking convenient for Stephanie if one man moves in as soon as another one moves out, but I'm not taking part in her game of romantic chess. So, I'll have to tell her she's barking up the wrong tree, just not today.
