by Ember Flint
And I have seven full days of this to look forward to.
Fuck my life.
“Yeah, sorry. Was just going over our story one more time,” I tell her.
She tosses back her long light brown waves with those blonde highlights that make me even hotter, and smiles big at me, her lovely face lighting up like Christmas morning.
“Oh, don’t worry, Chris, we got this… they are gonna totally buy it and leave us in peace for once. You’ll see…”
“Yeah, in peace…”
As If I could ever know true peace with how much I love you and want you, Hope.
The words burn holes on my tongue, but I keep my mouth shut.
I huff out a breath and see the air puff out in a white cloud in front of my face.
“Well, let’s get this over with then,” I say.
The snow starts to fall again around us, and I barely have the time to lean my fist against the wood for a knock when the door gets flung open and my mom and Hope’s come out to greet us, wearing matching Christmas blue and red sweaters and looking like twin tornados of happy shrieks and gleeful fretting.
“Oh, you made it, darling!” my mom says, her hands coming up to pat my cheek as I dutifully bend forward so she can reach me.
Noelle is practically shaking her daughter now. “Oh Hope, sweetheart!”
“Hey,” I manage to get out in a lull in my mom one-sided convo and then I kiss her cheek.
Mrs. Snow stops smothering her daughter and peers over my shoulder to the single car now parked in front of the cabin.
Her eyes narrow. “You came together?” she asks.
“Um, Mom, about that, we—”
“Let’s get inside, it’s too chilly to stand outside like this! You need a heavier coat, dear,” my mom interrupts Hope, grabbing her by the arm.
They drag us inside and we’re hit at once by the blinding flash of the twinkling lights, a blast of warmth coming from the blazing fireplace, the smell of hot cocoa and cinnamon cookies that fills the air and the strings of soft Christmas carols, coming from pretty much all directions at once if at all possible.
I nearly stagger back. It feels like we walked into the intro scene of ‘Home alone’: the gigantic log cabin looks like the epicenter of a storm in Santa Claus’ lab and there are kids running up and down the stairs at full throttle all over the place.
Twelve little faces, minus Lyssa and Molly who are as of yet too small to really understand, turn to look our way and we’re soon surrounded by jumping, giggling children.
That’s when I feel the first real smile of this week hit my face.
We exchange hugs and kisses with our siblings and our fathers, each of us with kids hanging from our arms and legs and laughing.
I look at Hope and feel my heart squeeze. I can’t say how many times I’ve pictured something like this, only it would be our kids climbing all over us.
I gulp hard, looking away.
Okay, you’re okay. You can do this.
There’s a ten feet tall Christmas tree ready to be trimmed, boxes of lights and ornaments everywhere and a crowd of thirty-one people, not including myself and Hope, in this living room and no matter how big it is, it feels crammed anyway and I almost can’t breathe.
Just as Noelle and my mom start to blabber about this cute ski instructor they met and this one nice ‘wholesome’ girl that’s also a guest here at Frosted Ridge, I feel Hope’s hand slide into mine. She strokes her thumb inside my palm, and I feel a shockwave course through me as my cock jerks and starts to grow further down my inner leg.
Damn and fuck, not now!
This is the signal and I need to stay calm.
I can do this. I can do this.
I can kiss the woman of my dreams, the one and only I’ve always loved, in front of all our relatives. Sure, I can.
I only need to close my eyes and go with the flow. Just like I did in the car before.
All right, maybe not exactly like that.
No tongue this time. Just a little kiss.
I take a deep breath and then I pull Hope to my chest, just like we rehearsed, at first no one thinks much of it, we are an affectionate group of people and I’m sure no one has noticed how few and far hugs between the two of us have been, but then I put my hands on her hips and lower my face to hers and everybody around us grows quiet.
I gently touch my lips to hers and we hear a collective gasp before our mothers start to squeal.
That’s right just a little kiss, easy peasy. No need to hurt my cock anymore then I’ve already had and—
My eyes widen when I feel Hope’s curves press to my front until my rock-hard dick is rearing up against her softness and pressing into her lower belly and then her tongue is pushing into my mouth, my mind just bursting into flames along with my body.
I think I lose touch with reality for a full minute there and then when I hear Hope whimper into my kiss and realize my hands are cupping her ass fully, my mind goes sharp again, bringing everything into focus one more time.
What the fuck?
—*—
I storm into the bedroom I’m staying in, and slam the door shut as a riot of emotions singes through me.
My cock is still hard as a fucking steel rod from the kiss from hell I just shared with Hope.
Holy fuck.
I still can barely breathe, and I have to use every ounce of restrain I have to keep me from rushing down the hall to Hope’s bedroom, say fuck it with this stupid charade and take what’s mine.
And this is only day one.
Shit.
I’m never gonna survive a week like this, particularly if we are staying under the same roof.
Usually we each bunk with one of our siblings and their families since the cabins around here are pretty big, but of course as soon as our mothers heard the ‘happy news’ of our engagement and stopped with the caterwauling and crying —for which I don’t want to even analyze how much of a deepshit I feel about, since I never thought they would be this damn ecstatic about it— they put their heads together, which is never a good thing if you ask me, and came up with a plan so that we could have a cabin to ourselves.
I don’t know how the fuck we didn’t think this would happen, not even once it came out during the planning of our stupid deal that we would end up sharing living quarters, but I guess it was naive of us.
Our mothers had everything rearranged and everybody shuffled around faster than I could blink, until they got us right where they wanted us: in the same cabin, enjoying the ‘the romantic wintery atmosphere’, possibly already starting to work on giving them more grandbabies to spoil rotten.
I should have known telling them we were engaged wouldn’t be enough, according to the both of them, we have already lost so much time we should ‘get on with it already’, whatever that means.
So now here I am, my mind is a mess, my cock is hard as fuck and I feel like I don’t have even a shred of control left.
Why the fuck did she have to kiss me like that?
What does it mean?
I know why I ended up plowing her mouth like there was no tomorrow, I fucking love her, after all, but what was her excuse?
How could she respond that deeply to me while not caring, while faking it?
How could that kiss be that damn fiery hot?
Maybe I am really losing it, or maybe I’m projecting my feelings onto hers or something, but I could have sworn it almost feel like she wanted it, me.
Could she be that good of an actress?
She played the part of the dotting fiancée to perfection, teased me, held my hand and stroked my chest, while our mothers run like headless chickens all over the place, crowing to each other and everyone who would listen about luck striking twice —I’m guessing this was said in reference to my sister being married to Hope’s brother— and about how they had always known we were ‘meant for each other’.
What the hell was t
hat about anyway?
Could they see I was in love with her then?
Has my every attempt to be aloof and keep this to myself been for nothing?
And, most importantly, what the fuck am I supposed to do now?
I lower my forehead onto the closed door, sighing as my stiff cock throbs in time with my madly beating heart.
I don’t think I’ve ever been this confused and aroused in my life and I don’t think there’s gonna be much sleep for me tonight.
I get undressed angrily, all the while trying to ignore my erection as I force myself not to think about Hope and the amazing kisses we shared or the feel of her compact little body in my arms.
My dick jerks painfully and I grit my teeth.
It fucking aches like a motherfucker right now.
I’m used to be horny all the time during our ‘Seven-Days-Of-Total-Christmas-Holiday’ here, but now that I’ve touched Hope, tasted her, it’s a thousand times worse.
I drop face-down onto my bed and grunt against my pillow when I feel more pre-cum slick the fronts of my boxers.
I must be a pathetic sight.
A twenty-nine-year-old virgin man dying to rub one out to thoughts of a beautiful girl that has never seen him as more than a friend and still could kiss him like that, just for show.
Why do I have to be this fucking in love with her?
I can’t help myself; I can’t stop, loving Hope is just like breathing for me: If I don’t, I die.
I turn to my back, squeezing my eyes shut against the pain.
I relive the kiss we shared over and over even if I know it will only make me ache more for something I can’t have and when my hand drifts down to my cock, I don’t stop.
If a fantasy is the only thing I can have of her then so be it, it’s not like I could ever get through this week with all my faculties unscathed if I don’t try to get some relief at least.
My fingers stroke over the tight bulge in my boxers as I picture her in my mind’s eye.
She’s spread under me, in my bed, back at home in New York, her large eyes are looking up into mine and she is calling my name and a whimper escapes her lips just like it did when we were kissing before.
I push the waistband of my boxers down and my hard cock springs free slapping wetly against my abs.
I immediately fist it and start to rub up and down, no sense in dragging this along, I need to get off so fucking bad, a teasing touch would never do, unless it came from her.
I thrust my hips into my fist and let my other hand slide lower until I’m cupping and squeezing my taut balls as I try to remember the feel of her thumb stroking over my palm and her sweet minty scent all around me.
Damn, my dick is dripping all over the place and I’m so turned on, it’s fucking painful.
I think about all the things I’ve never done, because I could never bring myself to share them with some other woman, all the things I want to do to her, with her, and more pre-cum leaks out of my tip, lubing my fingers as I jerk my cock harder and faster.
My spine tingles at the thought of finally knowing what thrusting into a tight pussy, her tight pussy, would feel like and I can feel my release mounting like a tidal wave as my body locks up and my breath comes out in pants.
I let my thoughts venture into uncharted territories now, out of my fantasy world and into the realm of possibilities and wishful thinking.
What is she doing right now?
Is she sleeping or is she lying awake in her bed just down the hall, staring up at the ceiling, thinking about our kiss and all the things we could have, we should have?
Is she even now deep in thought, trying to figure out why she kissed me like that and then left as fast as her legs could carry her, or is she doing what I’m doing?
What did that little whimper mean while we kissed?
Was she turned on by the feel of my hard cock jutting into the soft curve of her belly?
Is she touching herself right now, seeking relief like I am?
What would I find if I marched into her room right now?
Would she be naked in the middle of her bed, her digits tickling across her clit, all flushed and aroused, spread open for me, finally showing me what I want, what I’ve always know I couldn’t have, despite it feeling so fucking mine since I was old enough to understand?
The visual is too much for me and it leads me to my orgasm. I choke out a veritable roar of pleasure as I cum harder than I’ve ever have in my life, thick spurts of seed run down my still hard dick and over my hand.
I lean my head back against the pillow as I try to catch my breath and focus my blurred vision, I’m trembling all over and it’s only sheer will-power that keeps me in my bed and doesn’t have me get out of this room to go rip down her fucking door, just like I am right now: naked, angry and horny as fuck.
By the time my hips have stopped jerking uncontrollably, I’m panting like a rutting bear and I’m a total mess. My hands are covered in my load, I’m sweaty, sticky and grumpy, and worse than everything else, my cock is still thumping away in need.
I’m too far gone, only the real thing would do at this point and that I could never have.
Chapter 5
HOPE
My eyes are glued to the window as they follow the flurries of snow falling more and more rapidly in white bursts in stark contrast with the inky black starless sky.
It’s well past two a.m., but I feel like I downed ten coffees and a case of Red Bull, my body is buzzing with excitement and my brain is running a mile a minute as I try to make sense of my confusing feelings and thoughts.
What the hell is wrong with me?
This can’t be happening.
I’m ice-cold all my life and the first time I do feel something is for a guy that leaves across the country and only thinks of me as a friend and not even a close one at that. Not anymore anyway.
Maybe the lies are catching up with me.
Maybe he’s just a very good actor, but damn: he gives me one of his smoldering look and my heart goes pitter patter, he strokes my cheek with his long, tapered fingers and my legs turn to Jell-O, he calls me ‘baby’ for our mothers’ benefit and I feel like I would give anything for him to really mean it.
And let’s not even talk about those sizzling kisses of his and the way he pulls me up against his big, muscular body.
Why do I want this?
Why now?
Why him?
I mean, the man is beyond attractive and ticks all the ‘musts’ in my ‘oh damn, that’s hot list’: the bulk of his frame, the incredible shade of blue of his eyes, those lips of his, that sexy cropped beard on his squared jaw, his manly-man attitude and that voice, so deep, gritty and yet comforting.
And then that’s that damn cologne of his, what the fuck did they put in that thing anyway? Pheromones?
But am I this easy then?
I’ve always known him to be handsome, yet I had never thought of him this way before.
Is it because I starved myself for attention and human contact for so long that now even a lie can make me feel all fuzzy inside and so incredibly turned on?
Or there is more?
Am I missing something here?
Why do I want this… him, so much now?
Is it because I never even dared to look past the ‘friend-label’ I put on him?
Why does he make me feel like this?
Even now, hours after the end of ‘our show’ I still feel like a live wire is going through me.
And what does this mean for us?
Does he feel the same?
I might be a virgin, but I’m not completely naive, I’m freaking twenty-eight: I’ve felt his arousal when we kiss, the way his breathing hitches and his voice goes even more husky and low.
But what do I know about men?
For all I know, this could be a normal response for them when they are pressed up against anything of the female persuasion
if they’re not gay, no matter if they’re attracted or not?
Isn’t this why they joke that even a strong wind could get their dicks hard?
For some reason, I don’t think this is about a simple natural reaction, though: there’s always a tenderness to his touch and sometimes, when he doesn’t think I’m looking, there’s something in his eyes, a sadness, I can’t understand.
I hug myself, shivering against more than the cold.
I’m so utterly confused.
And so damn horny!
How can we go on like this?
It’s barely been two days and I’m already going crazy.
That last kiss of his, was like— ugh…
Stupid hormones, why would they choose to ambush me in such an embarrassing way with him of all people?!
I’ve got to tell him to tone it down a bit…
I shake my head to myself as I walk to my bed and throw myself on it.
Even as I’m thinking of the need for us to cool it down some, after all we have already more than convinced everybody that we’re an item, I can feel the disappointment rush through me.
I don’t know the meaning of these feelings, but I do know one thing: I don’t want them to stop.
The truth is that there’s only one thing that’s crystal clear in my mind right now: I’m enjoying this little sham of ours way more than I should, and I can’t even think about the end of this holiday and the conclusion of our deal without turning suddenly sullen and mad, both at myself and at Chris for making me love this so much by being this stupidly hot and sweet all the time and way too good at playing the perfect fiancée for my sanity.
I slip under the covers and I have to squeeze my thighs together as my mind replies the last kiss we shared, and I know I couldn’t stop the images from blossoming behind my eyes even if I wanted to.
I know for a fact I haven’t been this turned on ever in my life.
I can feel the sticky wetness that seeped from my core plastering my panties to my lower lips and, even as I try not to think about Chris sexually, I feel my pussy throb in need.
I need some relief if I want to get some shut-eye.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I’m slipping my hand down the curve of my belly and under the waist of my fuzzy PJs and touching myself where I need most.
