The Mammoth Book of Hot Romance

by Sonia Florens

  He fishes around blindly for a moment, while still trying to kiss my neck at the same time, then lets out a curse as it becomes apparent he can’t find them. Goddamn it!

  “Haven’t you got any?”

  “Yes, I have some, but it’s a while since I had a need for them and they must have got buried.”

  “Let me look.” With my sex still simmering, I half roll, half clamber over him, and my thigh brushes his hot erection as I go. I edge a little way out of the cave of duvet heat and lean over to look in the drawer. It’s full of typical male detritus: passport, car documents, an old iPod, but, underneath them, I find an open twelve-pack of condoms, barely touched. I’ll ponder what this might mean about his recent sex life another time. For now, I just want get a contraceptive on him, so I rip the foil off and set to my task.

  Innes’ efforts seem to have tired him, and he lies inert as I enrobe him in latex. “Are you sure you want to do this?” I ask, even though it’s blatantly obvious his cock wants to do it, even if the rest of him is flagging.

  “Hell, yes,” he says fiercely, and, as if regenerated by a moment’s respite, he surges up again, rolls me on to my back again and rears up over me, duvets and all. “There’s still a bit of life in me yet, Florence, so don’t you worry!” He pauses to give me a rough but pussy-melting kiss. “I’ll probably be completely knackered afterwards, but it’ll be worth it! I’ve wanted you far too long to let anything stop me now.”

  For a moment, I feel sad, thinking of months and months of lost opportunities. Then there’s no time and no reason to feel sad, because first I’m wriggling and squirming out of my panties, and then Innes’ lovely erection is nudging at my pussy. After a few moments of the manual adjustment dance, he pushes on into me.

  And pushes and pushes … God, he’s big. Just the way I imagined him during idle moments at the office spent fantasizing about what lay inside his elegantly tailored trousers. He’s everything he promised to be and more.

  Finally, he’s right in. Deep. To the hilt. And we both lie still as if adjusting to a whole new world. My mind keeps chanting, This is Innes. This is Innes. Oh my God, this is Innes, while my heart just croons, Thank you, thank you, thank you …

  But prettyoon, my body instinctively rises, pushing against him, wanting to be closer, closer …

  “Cally,” he groans, not really thrusting, just pushing back. Despite his claims, I know he’s still fighting the illness, but desire gives him strength from out of nowhere and enough to give me pleasure, through pressure and friction. As I strain against him, he jerks his hips, and the action knocks my simmering, needy clit.

  “Ah … Oh … Oh, Innes.” I croon his name as orgasm claims me again, so soon, so quick, so deep, so intense … No need for a long extenuated dance of the flesh. He’s in me. I love him. So I come.

  Gasping and whimpering a lot of wordless nonsense, I arch even harder against him, my body working of its own accord, while my mind is blank but for the white world of pleasure and the single word “Innes”. He moves too, kissing my face and my neck, his chest heaving as he drags in long breaths. Bracing himself with one arm, he slides a hand beneath my bottom to hold me closer.

  “Oh hell, I wanted this to last. I told myself if it ever happened, I’d make it good for you.’ His narrow hips buck fast, faster, then furiously, as I cling on, gripping his back and his bottom, just as he grips me. “Cally … Oh my Cally,” he gasps through gritted teeth as he jerks in a desperate rhythm and comes inside me.

  The feel of him pulsing sends me soaring yet again.

  Afterwards, it’s like having survived a cyclone. I haven’t got the flu. I’m in rude good health at the moment. But even I’m completely exhausted by our efforts, so heaven knows how Innes feels.

  After he climaxed, he hauled himself off me with an obvious effort, then collapsed beside me, his fingers searching blindly beneath the duvets to lace with mine. There was still strength left in him to hold on tight, really tight. “Oh God,” he sighed, then promptly fell asleep.

  Not that I can blame him. If ever a man deserved to sleep after sex, it was Innes, now. His performance was above and beyond the call of duty for a man as sick as he’s been.

  I lie for a while, just holding on to his now relaxed hand like it’s the Holy Grail. Either that or the greatest Christmas gift ever, barring none. And it is Christmas now. We’ve slept and made love through Christmas Eve and now it’s the early hours of Christmas Day.

  I’m tired. In fact I’m exhausted. But I fight to cling on to consciousness.

  This is Innes. I made love with Innes. What’s to become of us?

  I squelch all thoughts of the future, kiss his shoulder … then drift off myself.

  Actual morning rolls around, and I’m awake again. The room is still cold when I poke out an experimental limb, but fortunately Innes feels comfortably warm beneath the covers, neither feverish nor chilled. Sleeping easily, he looks like an adorable rumpled angel.

  Staring down at his beautiful, sexily stubble-clad face, I make an executive decision. While he sleeps on soundly, I wriggle into the various bits of clothing I took off then drop a kiss on his cheek, preparing to go.

  As I turn away from the bed, his hand shoots out from beneath the duvets and clamps around my wrist, his grip ferocious for a recovering invalid.

  “Don’t go … please.” His eyes snap open, blue and clear and luminous. “I know it’s going to be a crap Christmas here in this icebox, but we can always keep warm by staying in bed.” His smile is as wicked and playful as I’ve ever seen it.

  I place my free hand over his, on my wrist. “Don’t worry. I’m coming back. I’m only going for supplies. I’ve got a fan heater, and some hot-water bottles, and some Christmas dinner stuff I want to bring round.’ His smile widens, and there’s real relief in his eyes. “If we combine our assets, I think we can hve a decent little Christmas between us.”

  Innes draws my hand to his lips and kisses it in a way that makes my knees go wobbly and the rest of me just wants to crawl back beneath the duvets with him, double quick. “Good thinking, Florence.” He winks at me. “I’m all for combining our assets, if last night was a taster.” He kisses my hand again, with evident meaning, then releases me. “Hurry back though. I’ll miss you while you’re gone.”

  I give him a little wave and dash out of the room, before I say something really, really stupid. He’s fond of me, I know, but this is probably the Christmas equivalent of a “holiday romance” to him. To me, it’s a treasured dream, despite the cold, and his flu.

  Trying not to think too deeply, I summon a taxi, ride back to my flat, and have a quick shower and change before gathering together the things I think we’ll need. Then I stuff everything, along with my weekend bag, into the boot of my car, and hurtle back to Innes’ place as fast as I dare on the icy Christmas roads.

  Innes sounds bright when I buzz up to be let in and, when I reach his flat, I find him up and shaved and showered. He’s bundled up in his dressing gown over a sweatshirt and track pants, and his complexion is a still little bit pale and wan, but his smile is happy.

  “You idiot, have you had a cold shower? You’ll have a relapse!” I upbraid him as he grabs me for a quick kiss.

  “Don’t fret, woman. The bathroom’s a bit cold, but it’s a power shower, so we can get any hot water we need by using that.” He hugs me hard.

  “Very civilized. But I wish you’d get back to bed and rest. You’re still poorly, despite having –” he quirks a blond brow at me “– recovered some of your … er … capabilities.” Speaking of which, the way he’s holding me tells me that wasn’t a fluke.

  “Everything’s in perfect working order, nurse,” he whispers, sliding his hands down to my bottom and holding me against him. “Would you like to check?”

  Tempting … oh so tempting …

  But I resist. “I’ve got stuff to bring in from the car, then I’ll see about an inspection, maybe.” I give him a stern look as I pull away from
him, then wink.

  “Let me get my coat and I’ll help you.”

  “No way! There isn’t that much. You need to save your strength!”

  I see the decisive, always in control Innes of the office longing to assert himself, but then he smiles and shrugs, abandoning macho stubbornness. “OK, boss,” he says, with a twinkling wink. “But is it OK then if I make us a cup of tea and some breakfast while you’re bringing in the hoard?”

  I give him an old-fashioned look. “All right then, but don’t overdo it.”

  Not long afterwards, we’re back in bed, under the covers, eating toast and marmalade and watching a silly film on TV. The fan heater is coughing gently in the corner of the room, and though it’s not tropical, the worst of the chill has left the air.

  What follows is the strangest Christmas Day ever spent … and the best. Some of it’s spent platonically, scuttling between the kitchen and the bedroom, preparing and eating rich but jumbled meals and getting slightly tipsy on seasonal beverages, then goggling mindlessly at daft but traditional television programmes.

  But it’s not all platonic. In between there are giggly but beautiful bouts of cuddly, fumbling, duvet-bound sex, also slightly tipsy and rich with kisses and pleasure.

  Innes mostly sleeps afterwards, revealing that he’s still not fully recovered, but I salve my conscience by telling myself that sex is the perfect light exercise and good for his spirits. Bloody hell, it’s doing wonders for mine!

  Every now and theonder what’ll happen when we return to normal life after Christmas. Innes doesn’t speak of it, and I guess he’s putting it out of mind, like me, but as he lies sleeping, he stirs and frowns once or twice.

  Boxing Day morning brings a trill on Innes’ entryphone and, as he’s still sleeping, I swathe myself in his dressing gown and answer the call. To both my delight and my suppressed dismay, it’s the central heating engineer.

  While Innes sleeps on, I deal with him. The cheery craftsman quickly sees the problem and, miracle of miracles, has the right parts to fix it. I offer him tea, and while we chat I discover something that makes me feel fonder and prouder of Innes than ever. It seems that he gave up his priority place on the central heating man’s worksheet in favour of an old folks’ home where the heating had broken too – and then told the guy not to spoil his Christmas by coming out afterwards.

  When I return to the flat, the rumbling radiators are already warming up and, as Innes sits up, he smiles from ear to ear as if he’s kid and Santa’s brought him a bicycle.

  “Wahey, let there be heat!” His blue eyes cruise slowly over me from top to toe. “Maybe now I’ll get to see a bit more of your gorgeous body. It’s been a crying shame to keep it covered up with jumpers and duvets.”

  “Well, it’s early days yet. I’m not stripping off until the radiators are right up to temperature.”

  Innes is unabashed. “That just gives me something to look forward to, Florence.” He waggles his sandy eyebrows again. “So, what’s for breakfast?”

  It’s strange to be able to walk round the apartment without cringing and shivering beneath layers of clothes and blankets, but pretty soon, the central heating does its job and the atmosphere is toasty. Innes allows me some private me time in the newly warm bathroom, then takes his turn while I make phone calls and tidy up. It’s lovely not to be cold, but perversely I’m also a bit nostalgic for it. Our arctic Christmas experience is almost over now, and we’ll both soon be heading elsewhere to our separate New Year celebrations.

  And after that, it’s back to work and we’ll either assume our normal roles or everything will change.

  So, there’s all the more reason to make the most of our last day and the possibilities afforded by central heating. I knock on the bathroom door, hoping Innes will let me in.

  He does, though his “Come in!” is muffled.

  Inside, a sumptuous sight greets my eyes. He’s standing stark-naked in the steamy air, drying his blond curls vigorously with a small towel.

  Desire twists hard in my gut. He’s beyond beautiful and this is the first time I’ve seen his remarkable physique in its entirety since that moment I ordered him back to bed, what seems like a lifetime ago. I’ve explored his body by touch, beneath the duvets, but here in the light and warmth he’s more magnificent than ever. He’s a poem of smooth, athletic musculature, a dusting of tawny body hair and a long thick penis, already awake and taking interest.

  “J–just came to check if you were OK,” I stammer as if I haven’t fucked him and touched him goodness knows how many times in the last couple of days, “hoping you hadn’t had a relapse.”

  “Do I look as if I’m having a relapse?” His smirk is roguish and the way he drops his towel then casually frisks his cock is nothing short of boastful.

  “You look fine, actually.”

  “Just ‘fine’?” He advances towards me. “Cheeky madam … weren’t you supposed to be showing me all the goodies I’ve blindly been fondling under the covers all this time?” When he reaches me, he pulls me hard against his body so I can feel everynt inch of him. Intoxicated, I wish my clothes would just dissolve.

  His kiss is long and thorough, expressing the desire of a man who’s now fully recovered and ready to exert his full powers; something that thrills me and at the same time piques my own sense of devilment. So he thinks he can start throwing his weight about now, eh?

  I push away from him. “I still think you should take things easy, boss.” The endearment is pointed. “If I’m going to strip off, I think it’s safest if you lie down, you know. I wouldn’t want you to pass out from the magnificence of my beauty.”

  Innes laughs, and nods. “All right, Ms Nightingale …” Gracefully, he subsides on to the fluffy bath mat and stretches out like a pasha in his harem. The sleek way he moves is as much Innes putting on a display for me, as the other way around, and the sway of his heavy penis has me hypnotized. I just stare as he takes a hold of it and gently pumps.

  My own strip isn’t very graceful, but Innes seems to like it. He gives a low growl of appreciation and grabs my ankle to pull me down. “You are magnificent, Cally, but I’ve no intention of passing out just yet. Maybe when I come inside you, yes, but for the moment, I’m staying conscious, believe me.”

  We roll and rock on the mat, our bare bodies rubbing against each other while Innes strokes and kisses me. Within moments, my heels kick and I arch in a quick, hard orgasm, before running my fingers over every inch of him I can reach, including his cock. “Oh, hell, yes,” he grunts, and pushes me over firmly on to my back, “I think we’re going to need a condom, Nurse Florence.”

  I push on his shoulder with force of my own, and smilingly he concedes and settles on to his back. “We are,” I confirm, throwing a leg across him and settling over his thighs while I scrabble for the pocket of my abandoned jeans and the condom in it.

  His cock is a rosy, delicious pole nestling against my belly. He’s hot and hard, his glans stretched and juicy. He gouges at the rug, then grabs my thighs as I roll the thin latex down his length.

  “Oh, Cally,” he moans as I fondle him, his bottom shifting against rug, rocking me to and fro, “please don’t tease me … God, I’ve got to be inside you.’

  “Anything to oblige, boss.” It comes out flippant, but that’s not the way I’m feeling. Every moment is precious beyond words, and I rise up, and up, to position my body over him. Then, between us, our fingers jostling, we ease the tip of his cock inside me, and I sink down again, and down and down and down.

  I gasp. It’s like he’s pushing into every cell in my body and every corner of my mind. He totally engulfs my heart, and I have to close my eyes to hide the tears.

  Oh, how I love him. Life will never be the same again.

  I blink hard and dash at my eyes, praying he won’t notice, but when I look down at him, his own eyes are closed and his beautiful face is a mask of taut sensation. We settle into a rhythm, slapping against each other, Innes’ hands at my waist gu
iding my movements as I incline over him, my hands braced upon his shoulders. When the gathering of tension becomes too intense, I arch back, supporting myself one-handed on his thigh. With my free hand, I reach for my clit, but he’s already there, seeking it out, wanting to give.

  After that, all is mad crazy beauty, a chain of orgasms, several of mine, and one of his. There are moments when I’m not sure where I end and Innes begins. It’s the closest thing to paradise upon this earth, but in the aftermath, cuddled against him, the tears return.

  After this, nobody else will ever reach me quite the same, and though Innes murmurs my name, I sense his thoughts are as troubled as mine.

  .

  Christmas is over. The New Year has begun. It’s my first day back at work, but no sign of Innes yet. He must have been in yesterday though, because there are papers to file from the Simpson deal. Or maybe he worked on them while staying with his family.

  We haven’t spoken since our strange, slightly awkward parting. He seemed to hug me as hard as I hugged him, but neither of us could think of anything much to say. He’s texted me a few times since – odd, funny, strangely intimate little missives from his family home, nothing about “us” but feeling like messages from a friend.

  But now we’re back to being working colleagues, although I’m not really sure I’ll be able to hack it.

  How shall I greet him? How shall I be with him? Do I even refer to our chilly idyll? I just wish he were here, so we could face the situation head on.

  I make coffee. I get on with routine tasks. I watch the door, my eyes yearning for a glimpse of him, no matter how problematical our new relationship is.

  After half an hour, the door swings open. He’s here!

  Innes strides in, so handsome and familiar, yet so different from my beloved Christmas “patient”. Restored to full health, he’s immaculately suited and groomed in the way that’s always taken my breath away. But having seen him naked adds an amazing new dimension. Having touched him makes me flutter with instant desire.