Vermont Christmas

by Tracey Pedersen

  “I can give you some pointers.”

  “And I can give you pointers on how to move on in return.”

  “I have moved on. It’s been three years.”

  “Why are you still hiding out here, then?”

  “I like it here. I have a business, and a life. Vermont is fast becoming one of my favourite places.”

  “Prove it.”

  “What?”

  “Prove you’re over her.”

  He shakes his head, his eyes not dropping from mine. Does he know what’s coming? Could he have any idea? Do I even know just how far this post-Greg version of me will go?

  “How exactly am I meant to prove that?”

  I push myself forward and slide around onto my knees in front of him. He watches, wide eyed as I reach for his mug. He resists as I tug on it, but I unpeel his thumb and he relents. Our two mugs are soon safely on the little table beside the couch, and I turn back, kneeling in front of him. I raise an eyebrow in what I hope is an alluring manner. “Kiss me.”

  Brant’s eyes widen and then he blinks and opens his mouth. The only sound to squeeze out is a kind of wheeze, then he closes his mouth and blinks some more. I wait, moving forward until my knees touch the couch and I can touch his arm. His gaze shifts to my fingers, but not before I see it brush across my breasts. “Why?”

  “Why not?” The wine and the fire have gone to my head and for some reason I’m finding this exchange outrageously funny. His obvious shock combined with my absolute lack of experience in seducing a man mean the grin on my face must be enormous. “What else do you have to keep you busy in the middle of a blizzard, with no electricity, and a willing accomplice? When was the last time you fooled around on Christmas Eve?”

  I’ve noticed that Brant has a knack for mimicking my facial expressions and my movements. He flicks his eyes to my face, cocks his head and his own brows rise, a grin as wide as mine settling on his sexy mouth. “I have a willing accomplice?” There’s humour in his words and I let my stiff spine relax. He’s not going to let me make a fool of myself. “Does my accomplice know just how long it’s been for me?” He doesn’t meet my eyes. Just watches my hand on his arm.

  “I could guess, but I think I’d be wrong. I told myself you’re popular up here with the tourists, and the locals, too.” My fingers are making progress up his arm and they have his full attention.

  He lets his laugh out in a rush of breath. “I might be popular if I ever saw anyone besides my caretaker. I mostly keep to myself.”

  I watch in fascination as he moves forward, my palms sliding over his shoulders. “It’s been a while then.” It’s not a question.

  “More than a while.” Our eyes finally meet and the air sizzles with anticipation. At that exact moment the gas fire pops behind me and I imagine sparks bursting into the air if that were a proper fire. When I booked this holiday, I dreamed of getting naked in front of a roaring fire, the heat scorching my back, sweat beading on my skin, and sliding between my naked breasts. I just didn’t imagine it would be like this.

  In my head the sparks are still there. At least, I think they’re in my head. They could be sparks coming off his body as he takes my hand and puts it to his lips. The feather light kiss he places on the back ignites my skin and I slide a little closer. “You sure about this, Cherie?” He licks his lips, his eyes boring into mine as he tries to make sense of all that he sees. We’re not drunk. We’ve only shared one bottle of wine. But there’s an unmistakeable heat between us and it’s not coming from the fire. This spark was lit long before the pilot light was restored. Maybe even at the moment I opened the door.

  I nod. I’m tingling in all the right places. The last thing I want is to stop this little adventure. Isn’t that why I came on this trip alone? “Pretty damn sure. Unless your bits aren’t gonna work after such a long time out.” I can’t resist. Like I said, the wine is making me into a comedian.

  “Oh, my bits will work.” He pulls me forward, the spell of us slowly inching closer finally broken. His fingers twist in the back of my hair and he pulls me up and toward him, his lips finding mine a heartbeat later.

  We taste like chocolate and marshmallow.

  Brant would taste amazing, even without the sugar, I’m sure, but it acts like an aphrodisiac and shoots straight to that secret spot between my legs. My breath catches as his mouth does glorious things to mine, our tongues sliding like we’ve done this together a thousand times. There’s teeth, and sucking, and the promise of all that is to come. Without meaning to, my fingers clutch at his shirt as our kiss deepens. I love kissing, and this kiss is the best I’ve ever experienced. I don’t want it to end, and Brant seems to sense it, his mouth, his lips exploring every millimetre of mine. I started this on a dare to myself, making fooling around sound tempting to him.

  I want to do more than fool around, though. My body is on fire, and the brain cells that should be telling me to be sensible, have taken their own Christmas holiday.

  I want this. I want him.

  Chapter Eleven - Brant

  I don't know if it's the wine, my sudden relaxation after ingesting that most glorious of hot chocolates, or the way Cherie makes it so easy to talk to her, but we've quickly gone from sharing our tales of heartbreak, to the position I now find myself in. I should put a stop to it before it begins, but instead I welcome her closeness. Her stare. I want it to go on just a little longer before I let common sense intrude.

  Without even a pause she slid in front of me, removed my drink and casually placed her hand on my arm. I was sitting in a comfortable position manspreading in front of the fire for all I was worth, which means she's kneeling between my legs when she demands I kiss her. I can’t speak, but a million thoughts rush through my head. Images of what might come next. A vivid impression of the two of us pleasuring each other deep into this blustery night.

  I watch her creep forward and with a rush of understanding, my eyes betray exactly what I want. I drag them away from the soft sweater and stare at her fingers on my arm. Finally I rasp out, “Why?”

  Why? Why the hell do you think, you moron? There is schtupping in your immediate future.

  I’m aware of every spot where she touches me. Her ribs brush against my right thigh, and her sweater rubs against mine on my arm. Her skin burns mine through the fabric. One elbow rests on my other thigh and she looks up at me with a mixture of anticipation and expectation. Whether that is an expectation of rejection, or what might be about to follow, I can't tell. All I know is I'd like some more wine so I could gulp it down and give myself some courage. My throat is suddenly parched.

  Her face breaks into a smile and she says, “Why not?” Then she adds a smirk. “What else do you have to keep you busy in the middle of a blizzard, with no electricity and a willing accomplice? When was the last time you fooled around on Christmas Eve?”

  My fingertips tingle with the urge to touch her but a tiny voice tries to call me back from the brink of diving into whatever this is.

  She rented your cabin. This is a terrible, terrible idea. Whatever temporary release you might get from your time together, it can only end badly when she wants more.

  Her? What if it's me that wants more? What if the universe sent an Australian here to lure me home? What if I’m meant to recognize a kindred spirit and proceed without a second thought? She's beautiful, and it seems to be an inside and outside beauty, judging from all she's told me tonight. If I reject her now, do I want to make it awkward between us since there's no way for me to leave? Scratch that, what a shit thing to even think. I don't want to reject her. I want the opposite, and it has nothing to do with us feeling awkward afterwards. I've been attracted to her since the moment those dark eyes registered great relief to see me at the door.

  I match her grin with my own and tilt my head. We exchange more banter. I pull a chuckle from her when her palm slides over my shoulder, and my thoughts turn to peeling her out of her clothes. The room is warm, now. Hell, I'm warm, and I know if I reach
out and let my hands go where my eyes are, her warmth will match mine.

  “You sure about this, Cherie?”

  She nods. Then licks her lips, just like I am. I narrow my eyes, wondering if she’s mimicking me. I want her. I do. There's no denying that need.

  After all that deliberation, I don't come up with any good answers. There's no clear path ahead of me and for once I push my cautious nature aside. Instead, I let the man I used to be claw his way to the surface. She said she was sure, and I sure as hell am sure of what I want at this very moment. So, it's inevitable what comes next.

  We were meant to be here. Together. In this moment where no one else can intrude.

  I reach forward and grab the back of her neck scrunching my fingers in her long hair and pulling her toward me. When our mouths meet, fireworks go off inside my head and my need cuts deep. I want to devour her. Tear off the clothes that separate us from skin to skin contact and lay her down in front of the fire before I make her mine. For the first time I understand why Luthor made me keep the sheepskin rugs that cover the floors in front of the hearth in every cabin. Finally, I realise why they’re here. I harden just thinking of the two of us lying naked together in front of the fire and I bite her bottom lip, hoping she gets every message I'm sending through my tongue.

  She sighs against my mouth, giving every indication she’s enjoying our connection. I lick along her top lip sliding my tongue against her teeth and nipping her bottom lip again. My eyes are closed as I revel in the feelings coursing through me. I explore every corner of her mouth, not pulling back until she moans deep in her throat.

  “Are you really sure about this?” I murmur. She drags her eyes open, nodding vigorously and pulling me closer. I put a finger against her lips, but she sucks it into her mouth, grazing her teeth over my skin. I shudder, imagining what else that mouth could do. “I don't want to assume.”

  “I won't be changing my damn mind. Now shut up and kiss me.” Her pants match mine as she pulls me toward the fire. I wrap my arms around her and slide off the couch, gently laying her back, taking a moment to look at her as I loom over her body.

  I look deep into her eyes. “I don’t want to be anyone’s rebound.”

  She stares up at me. “Three months is hardly a rebound. And it’s been three years for you. If you’re still hung up on her you have worse problems than whether you’ll hate yourself in the morning.”

  She’s right of course. “I’m not hung up on her, but you might have regrets tomorrow.”

  “I won’t.”

  “So, this is just for one night?”

  She bites her lip. “I guess. We could really struggle for more since we live so far apart.” She smiles up at me. “We’re both adults, Brant. I won’t have regrets unless we stop.”

  “You’re a woman who knows what she wants.”

  “I am.”

  “What do you want right now, Cherie?” I want to make sure she’s satisfied. I want to know how to make her moan my name. I want the orgasm those eyes promise me, and I want it before I even think about exploring her on the inside. My cock is straining against my jeans, but I plan on waiting until she’s sighed out the last of her enjoyment.

  “I want you,” she says, eyes blazing as she stares up at me. “I want a sexy night in front of the fire, just like I imagined. Nakedness, and kissing, and release. That’s what I want.”

  “Then you shall have it.” I lean back, unbuttoning my shirt, not in any rush to give her what she asked for. She makes an impatient sound and reaches up to pull the shirt out of my jeans. I bat her hand away. “Uh, uh, uh. Patience.”

  “I’m not patient. Not even a little bit. It’s been months, Brant. I want you right now.”

  I undo a few more buttons before letting my open shirt hang at my sides. “Anticipation is half the fun.”

  “No.” She shakes her head, her eyes glued to my chest as I slide my shirt off my shoulders. I flick it across the room then turn my attention to her clothes. “Anticipation is ten percent of the fun, maximum.” I tug the fabric of her shirt out of her leggings and slide my hands inside and across her belly. She sucks in a breath and says, “Honestly, hard schtupping is at least eighty percent of the fun.”

  “You’re not into foreplay?” I remove my hands and lean over her again, my hands digging into the sheepskin on either side of her face. I pout and her eyes fixate on my lips. “I love foreplay,” I say, then I kiss the corner of her mouth, pulling back when she turns her head toward me. “I love exploring.” She giggles as I nibble her ear. “I love tasting.” My lips move to the pulse point in her throat and she sighs. When I shift again her eyes have closed and she has a dreamy expression on her face. “I love dirty talk.” I bite her shoulder and she moans. I sit back and my hands creep under her shirt again. I work my way up and my sharp intake of breath has her smiling and opening her eyes. When she disappeared into her bedroom earlier, she apparently misplaced her underwear, because my hands now find themselves exploring her bare breasts, the nipples hardening under my fingers with barely a touch. I slide the shirt toward her neck and my cock strains again.

  My fingers trace the lightest of touches around her exposed pink nipples and I smile when her fingers dig into my thighs. I move her arms in, so her breasts push up together, then I take my time, watching her face, as I tickle and pinch, pulling the flesh while my mouth waters. “God, you’re gorgeous.”

  “You too. Can we please fuck, now?”

  The pained expression on her face pulls a laugh from me. She’s so impatient.

  I lean over her again, enjoying the way she makes me feel as I look down on her. I let my chest graze her nipples, while my mouth captures hers. We’re immediately tongues, and sounds, and yearning, her hands burying in my hair and dragging me close.

  “Tell me what you want,” I whisper against her lips in between kisses. She bites my lip before pulling away.

  “I want you inside me. Right now. No more playing. You can play later.” She licks my tongue and the action shoots straight to my cock. “Fuck me. Do it this second. I want to swallow every part of you while the wind whines outside.”

  I groan, unable to resist her anymore. I pull her up to standing and use frantic fingers to yank down her leggings. She pulls her shirt over her head and places her hands on my shoulders. I want to kiss her all over when I look up at her full breasts, but she urges me on as I drag the leggings off and over her feet. Tanned legs greet me, and the leggings are the last thing to remove, because this naughty minx also isn’t wearing underwear. With a groan I pull her down to her knees and we kiss while I pinch her nipples. I do it harder, and she bites my lip and begs me to fuck her again.

  Who am I to ignore a lady’s Christmas wish?

  Chapter Twelve - Cherie/Brant

  CHERIE

  Pain and pleasure mingle as he teases me, biting and squeezing and licking. I’m panting, desperate for release. I don’t care whether he fucks me or gets me off with his mouth or his fingers at this point, I just need it to happen soon. I’m putty in his hands, giving over all control, my lips begging him to shoot me out of a cannon.

  His groans tell me he needs it, too, but he pulls away and pushes me onto all fours. The heat from the fire licks my skin, my nipples responding to the erotic picture in my head. I arch my back and look behind, my tongue almost lolling when he stands behind me naked, his jeans having joined the pile of clothing in the corner.

  I swear I’m gushing just at the sight of him.

  He pumps his dick a couple of times, his eyes glued to my ass. I drop my head a little, my fingers loving the sexy feel of the sheepskin rug. This is exactly what I daydreamed about. The fire. Me, naked. A soft floor covering and the sound of the wind howling outside. The wildness of the weather adds something, as does the power outage. I feel primal, like this is how it was always meant to be.

  Strong hands push me down, tilting my pussy up toward him. He mutters something like, “So fucking hot,” then his silky skin presses a
gainst my entrance. I urge him on, wanting him to push inside, and fill me. I got a good look at his shaft and he’s impressively thick. I can’t wait to clench around him. He pushes and the head of his dick slips inside. We groan together, my breasts swinging freely as he slides as deep as he can on the first stroke. I push against him, stars in front of my eyes as I moan, all my inhibitions having flown away on the wind. A fine layer of sweat prickles on my skin when he pushes my face down further and grinds all the way inside me with a grunt.

  There’s a moment where he holds his breath, then he’s moving, sliding against me and thrusting hard, again and again. The sensation is breathtaking, and I brace my hands against the rug and move with him. He grabs my hips, slamming into me, his fingers digging painfully into my skin. The sound of skin slapping has me panting again, the feel of him sheathed in my body, shooting electricity right between my legs.

  As though he reads my mind, he leans forward and wraps an arm around my thigh, his fingers seeking my core, their tweaking and exploring pulling gurgling sounds from my throat. We are finally fucking, our bodies slamming together, his dick filling me on every forward thrust, his fingers sliding through my wetness every time he pulls back.

  I throw my head back, moaning louder than I ever have before. We’re out here alone. No one can hear us over the wind and the sleet banging against the walls and the windows. I’m free to live out every fantasy, and for me that includes making a lot of noise. Brant’s fingers move in circles, as though he knows just what I like. Every thrust hits the depths of my soul, every swirl of his fingers pushes me higher. My pussy clenches around him, squeezing him tight, wanting to hold him inside me all night. His grunts fill the air and mix with my moans, the sounds serving to turn me on even more. My nipples are rock hard, the movement of my swinging breasts and the sweat on my body mashing together like a kaleidoscope of frenzied passion.