Christmas Spirit

by Amy Garvey

  “Toasty,” Charlie said, not wanting to seem too eager for her friend to leave her own house.

  “I am toasty.” Lillian added thick-cuffed gloves to the ensemble and left with a wave to both of them.

  “Welcome home. I missed you so much,” Charlie murmured to Sam, nestling against him. His hands were cold, even though he’d worn gloves, which were now off. He was running them up and down her sweatered back to warm them up.

  “Same here,” he said, giving her fast little smooches on the cheek, chin, top of her head—his lips were cold, too.

  “Let’s go back to bed,” she offered, sticking her hands down the back of his jeans and treating herself to a feel of two rock-solid butt cheeks. At least her hands weren’t freezing and he certainly seemed to enjoy what she was doing. Sam tilted his hips closer to her, and she was equally pleased to feel his instant erection against her belly. Tall men were fun to play with, she thought mischievously, although all things were equal lying down.

  Which was where they found themselves only minutes later.

  “Let me,” she begged, pushing his hands away from his shirt buttons.

  “Wouldn’t this be easier if I was standing up? You knocked me flat,” he protested.

  “Like I could. You wanted me to.”

  He’d stood there with his hands on his hips and the back of his knees against the edge of the brass bed. Booted feet apart, sturdy thighs tensed, and grinning wickedly, he’d told her to try.

  And then he’d gone over like a falling tree, taking her with him. She’d landed on top, straddling his muscular middle. Didn’t seem to bother him—she’d bounced a little with his laughs.

  “Okay,” he sighed happily, holding up his hands in surrender. “Undress me.”

  “First I get to strip.”

  She stood up over him on the bed, a little unsteady, but able to get off her clothes and fling them on the floor. He cheered her on in a soft voice.

  “Lillian’s gone.” She laughed.

  “Yeah, but the animals might hear.”

  “You’re ridiculous.” She slid her panties down and showed him just a little of what he wanted, loving the way his eyes lit up. Then she stretched the elastic waistband and let them zing away.

  Charlie straddled him again. “I’m naked, you’re not.”

  “This is interesting,” he said, gazing at her with growing lust. “Where are you going with this?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

  She took her time with the buttons, sliding each one out of its buttonhole with a fingertip and then running both hands over his warm, T-shirted chest when the shirt was open. She circled her palms over each tight, hot little nipple and he practically purred.

  “Nice,” he murmured. “Yes. More.”

  Moving herself down to straddle his jeans-clad thighs, she leaned forward to stroke his taut belly, letting her bare breasts press ever so lightly against the huge bulge under his zipper.

  Sam groaned. “Sweet torture. Can I move?”

  “No. Not yet.”

  She rose halfway and played with her breasts as if no one was watching, not even looking at him for a minute. Then she did.

  His eyes were on fire now. “You’re going to have to cuff me to this damn bed if I’m not allowed to touch you. No guarantees otherwise, Charlie.”

  She smiled and dropped forward on her hands and knees, covering his mouth with hers and kissing him deeply and passionately.

  Sam’s hands came up to fondle her breasts and tug pleasurably at her nipples. He captured her tiny moans in his mouth as she allowed him to get a little rougher and squeeze just fractionally harder. Mmm. It felt so good to her. Being apart a day and a half was really worthwhile.

  She decided that tall worked lying down, too, when she felt his hands move from her breasts to her waist, and from there to her behind. Warmly and firmly, he caressed each cheek and pulled her down on him, so that she straddled his belly again, her breasts pressed comfortingly against the thin knit cotton of his T-shirt. They kissed for long minutes just like that, until he turned his head to the side to whisper in her ear.

  “Enough of this. Let’s both get naked.”

  Oh yeah. He still had his clothes on. Wriggling on top of him, completely bare but totally warm, she’d forgotten about that.

  Charlie straightened, moving her knee over him to let him up but he caught it in midair and held her bent leg up. Slowly, very slowly, looking at her face, he slid a finger into the hot wetness that wasn’t hidden anymore.

  A little off balance and afraid to move, Charlie drew in her breath and let him do it, excited by the gentle, in-and-out sliding. He added another finger, still watching her face.

  Charlie closed her eyes, not caring what he looked at, just enjoying herself. He withdrew his fingers and let her put her leg down, but he quickly found her clit and held it. With easy pressure, he excited that sensitive part of her, too, using little rubbing strokes that were so pleasurable she stayed exactly where she was to enjoy them. Her tumbled hair had fallen partly over her face, but she didn’t brush it away.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured. “Every part of you is beautiful.”

  Charlie opened her eyes, feeling deeply aroused and dreamy, saying his name but not aloud.

  He brought his exploring fingers to her lips, first pushing the hair away with the other hand, then placing his wet fingertips on her lower lip.

  She obeyed the silent command to taste herself, and licked his fingers with just the tip of her tongue. Then she pulled his fingers into her mouth all at once, sucking tightly around them, swirling her tongue.

  “Ohhh ... yes.” Sam blew out his breath. She let go and looked down at the bulge in his jeans. If she didn’t undo that zipper right now, he was likely to go right through the frayed spot.

  She moved aside and took the zipper tab in her fingers in about the same way he’d handled her clit and pulled it down little by little. Underneath it was more soft cotton and a very hard cock, straining up and out.

  Charlie pushed down his briefs and took that into her mouth, feeling his whole body tense and arch slightly as she pleasured him. Licking her lips, she sat up when she felt him push down frantically on his confining jeans and briefs. In less than five seconds, he’d shucked all his clothes and was ready to return every favor.

  “Lie on your back,” he growled. She obliged, opening her legs and running her hands over the inside of her thighs. He watched for a second or two, that impressive erection standing out from his groin, then kneeled, burying his mouth in her damp curls and licking where his fingers had been, in and around, up and down.

  As she began to writhe, he slid his hands under her behind and lifted her slightly to lick her better. Charlie gave a little cry and rested her legs on his broad back. She could feel him smile with satisfaction when she did. It made it easier for him to put his tongue in all the way.

  Oh. Oh. Oh.

  She couldn’t resist the soft sensation and she came that way, in midair, held in his hands, her thighs clenching his head.

  Charlie moaned, nearly sobbing with the intensely erotic feeling of this new position, as he let her down gently, wiping off his mouth when his hands were free.

  He leaned over the bed and her, pressing her down into the mattress with the delicious weight of his body, looking for his bag and a condom. She didn’t have to ask and he didn’t say. Charlie felt the huge hot rod that was about to be sheathed against her thigh, then her soft belly, as he finally found what he was looking for and came back up.

  This time he did the honors, ripping open the foil and unrolling the thin latex over himself with practiced speed. His hair hung over his forehead, shaggy with sweat and her ardent caresses as he looked down at himself for a second.

  Then he looked at her.

  “I can’t decide,” he muttered. “This way? On all fours? What do you want? Wow, you are so rosy. What a sex flush.”

  He dropped over Charlie on all fours and kiss
ed her breasts and nipples with wild abandon, suckling her hard on one and then the other as he squeezed her breasts together.

  She arched underneath him, moaning again, more excited than before.

  “All fours,” she whispered.

  “What—mmf—yeah.” His mouth was full when he replied but he let go quickly and rolled her around with one strong arm, positioning her with his hands.

  Charlie buried her face in the pillow, loving the wanton quality of showing herself like this. He was stroking her all the way from her shoulders to down over her buttocks now, in long, warm slides that ended at the backs of her knees.

  The sensation was soothing and extremely stimulating. Charlie couldn’t help but respond, undulating in response to his touch, a sight that made him draw in his breath and ... stop.

  She knew what was coming and moaned for it, turning her head to one side on the crumpled pillow.

  Sam positioned the heavy, sheathed head of his cock between her labia and didn’t go any deeper. Just staying like that, he stroked her back and behind again. His movements were controlled and slow, but each caress did make his stiff rod move a little where it was.

  She was going crazy with the anticipation of taking its full length deep inside her. But she let him tease her. That, too, was extremely pleasurable. His gentle strokes were a little less slow and not so careful as their mutual restraint excited them both, more and more.

  Charlie was done waiting. She pushed backward, sliding herself over that huge, hot shaft to the hilt, making him cry out. Sam grabbed her hips and hung on, letting her set the pace until he couldn’t stand it any longer.

  He thrust the way he wanted to, hard and fast, then stopped all the way up inside her. She felt his big body drop over hers but he held himself up pretty well with all that middle muscle so he didn’t weigh her down.

  With his cock snugged up where it was, he supported himself with one hand and fondled her breasts with the other, careful to pay attention to both. His hand was big enough to hold both when he squeezed them together. He rocked inside her, letting go of her breasts and slapping them gently, then holding his palm flat so her erect, highly sensitive nipples brushed against it as her breasts swayed.

  Charlie began to rock back, wanting everything he was doing to just keep on going, grateful she’d already had an orgasm so she could hold off for a little and let this one build inside her.

  She felt his cock increase in circumference and remembered that he hadn’t come. Above her, biting the back of her neck and still playing skillfully with her breasts and nipples, Sam was straining his taut hips against her behind. He didn’t seem to want to give in to what had to be intensely erotic sensations for him as well.

  Charlie smiled into the pillow and tightened her innermost muscles around him as she began to rotate her hips ever so slightly.

  He reacted, big time. Sam grabbed her hips and held on tight as he rose up and thrust into her for all he was worth. She added a little clitoral stimulation for herself, playing with his balls while she was at it ... until they tightened hard against his body.

  They came together that time, loud and blissfully, and collapsed in a side by side heap. He flung one arm back over his head and scooped her to him with the other, his face glowing, his torso slick with fine sweat.

  Dreamily, her body echoing with pleasure for the second time, Charlie nuzzled into him. “Welcome home,” she said softly.

  “Thanks,” he gasped. “You sure know how.” And then they dozed off, not noticing the sunlight move through the room as the hours ticked away until afternoon.

  She awoke with a start, realizing that he was no longer in the brass bed. Charlie sat up, hearing the faint clatter of pots and pans from the kitchen. Then she flopped back down and rolled herself up in the comforter, burying her nose in it because it smelled like him and her and great sex.

  When he came into the room bearing a tray, she peeked at him over the top of it, her laughter muffled.

  “Room service,” he said.

  “So I see.” She folded the comforter down at an angle and gave him space to set down the tray. He wasn’t wearing anything but jeans and his big feet were bare.

  “Ma’am. You’re naked. That’s distracting. I’m only human and you’re the most beautiful woman in this hotel.” He put down the tray and stood there, his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans.

  “You’re a peach,” she said. “That looks fabulous and I’m starving.”

  With a flourish, he gestured to the meal for two on one big platter. Scrambled eggs, last night’s steamed vegetables thrown around in a little sizzling butter, a stack of toast. OJ and coffee on the side. And, for a holiday touch, an iced gingerbread snowman who was missing most of his silver-ball buttons and his ribbon muffler—she remembered Gloria eating something ribbonlike last night and refusing to let go of it. Lillian had rescued the snowman, evidently.

  She tucked into it while he watched and then he pushed over the tray and picked up a fork himself. He leaned over to kiss her mouth but missed, planting one an inch higher that made her laugh.

  He grinned at her. “You have a good appetite and a cold nose. I think that means you’re healthy.”

  “Mm-hm,” she said, continuing to eat. “Speaking of that, how’s your head? All better?”

  “Now she asks,” he groaned. “You didn’t care when it was between your creamy thighs, did you? Noooo. All you could think about was—”

  “Shut up,” she said lovingly. “You do that so well, Sam. So incredibly well.”

  “I try to satisfy.” He gave her a cocky grin.

  She loved him like this. His natural wariness was gone, set aside somewhere or burned off by their shared sexual passion. “So did you finish the article?”

  He nodded, tackling a slice of toast. “Yup. E-mailed it to Kevin late last night, complete with photos of a mystery blob and a picture of smoke that an innkeeper said was a weeping woman. I didn’t think so. Cherchez le bong, I told her. What the hell. It’s a paying gig.”

  “You didn’t mention me in it, I hope.”

  He looked at her indignantly. “No way, Charlie. What do you take me for?”

  She gave a delicate shrug. “A true professional.”

  That description made him grin. “Thanks. Kevin apparently thinks so, too. I sent him an alternate photo of the blob with a boobalicious blonde in a Santa hat.” He held up a hand to forestall her inevitable who-was-she question. “Before you ask, she was a local girl who wanted to break into the big time. And she probably will, chest first. But I didn’t touch her, believe me.”

  Great. He prided himself on being faithful for thirty-six hours. “Sorry. I’m just nervous, I guess.”

  He finished his bite and brushed the crumbs off his fingers onto the tray. “Everyone is, even in my business. Hard news doesn’t sell, not that Scoop ever tried. But let’s see which photo Kevin runs and where. I don’t care. So what are you nervous about?”

  “Everything, lately.”

  Sam pointed a finger at her but not rudely. “Break it down into bite-sized pieces. Then deal with them one at a time.”

  She thought that over.

  “Which one bothers you the most?” Sam prodded gently.

  Charlie didn’t hesitate on the answer. “The ghosts, of course. I’d like to have a Christmas that’s just you and me—” Whoops. She broke off at his impassive look. Had she said too much, expected too much? He’d promised her a few more days, if you could call that a promise. Nothing more.

  “I was thinking about Christmas myself,” he said calmly. “And you’re right. Holidays are hard enough without supernatural beings carrying on in the spare room.”

  His tone was joking and light. Charlie smiled, trying to keep the mood on that level. She still didn’t know him all that well, and the sexually intense chemistry they had wasn’t necessarily helping that.

  She wasn’t sure whether this was the time to share what she’d learned about Temperance and Daniel either
. A wayward daughter, an elopement on Christmas Eve that must have shattered her family, the storm that might have killed them both—it was too dramatic, too romantic.

  What she and Sam had was nothing like that. It was basically so good and so downright good for them that it couldn’t possibly be the product of a paranormal connection that neither of them understood.

  It was real, and it felt like love. Having him so near after his short sojourn on the mainland emphasized that. It seemed to have done him good to take a breather. Once he’d gotten her safely tucked away at Lillian’s, he’d been willing enough to leave. He sure seemed damn glad to be back.

  Charlie smiled slightly, curling her toes with remembered pleasure. “I was a good girl,” she told him. “I never once went over there.”

  He nodded approvingly. “So what did you do?”

  “Hung out with Lillian. Walked around town some. She took me to the town archives,” she said offhandedly.

  “Yeah?” His ears practically pricked up. “Find out anything about the Prescott ghosts?”

  “We didn’t have a chance to go through all the boxes,” she said noncommittally. “But there were some interesting things in a few. Documents. Tintypes. And other stuff.” She didn’t mention the diary, determined to save that for another time that was closer to everyday reality and didn’t include mind-bendingly passionate sex. The two didn’t mix. “We’re going to go back. Want to come along?”

  “Sure,” he said. “I actually do like research. Plus the Prescotts are truly freaky, underneath their mild-mannered exteriors.” He winked at her.

  “We are not,” she replied, not too convincingly.

  He blew her a kiss. “But I like you that way. No one ever gave me any prizes for normalcy either.” He changed the subject. “How’s Butch doing?”

  “He likes it here and he sleeps on top of Gloria. She doesn’t seem to mind.”

  Sam picked up the platter and finished up all the food. “Must be love,” he said, setting it down.

  “I think it’s more like a mutual non-aggression pact, actually.”