What Happens During the Holidays: A Holiday Anthology

by Lucy Gage

  I ran my fingers over his back, running them up and down, while we both caught our breaths.

  Sven was the first to break the silence.

  “You’re absolutely stunning. God, I’ve missed this. Missed you,” he whispered, holding himself sheathed deep inside me.

  I agreed with the sentiment. “Sven, I’ve never wanted anyone but you.”

  His eyes softened. “You’ll always have me. I promise it, Ginger.”

  The moment seemed suddenly too intimate, and I knew, if I didn’t protect my heart, I’d be losing it to him before the week’s end. I sighed and settled into his side when he rolled off me, sleepy from my much overdue orgasm.

  Sven’s fingers mindlessly trailed up and down my arm as soft Christmas music played in the background.

  “I never thought I’d find myself making love with Bing Crosby crooning,” he said, breaking the silence.

  I laughed. “Just be glad that awful hippopotamus song didn’t come on. I think that’d ruin even the most passionate of moments.”

  Sven shuddered at the thought.

  “So the list…We have naked Christmas baking, naked Santa—which, of course, you’ll have to be an elf,” he decided.

  I propped up on my elbow. “An elf? What about Mrs. Claus?”

  He reached out and tapped me on the nose. “A bit more scandalous this way, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Of course. You’d only ever be a naughty Santa.”

  “Let’s see, then we have the outdoor exhibition sex, drinking coffee and whiskey underneath Christmas lights. Anything else? We’ve plenty of time.”

  I tapped my finger against my chin. There was something I’d never done, something I was curious about, and I trusted Sven enough to do it. “Umm…what about… umm, you going down my chimney?”

  Ugh. That was terrible. But it was too late, I’d already blurted it out.

  “Your chimney?”

  “You know. My…my back door!”

  Sven’s eyes widened. “You want… you want anal?”

  I shrugged. “I’ve never done it. And I’m curious. If we find ourselves in a situation where it seems ideal, I wouldn’t mind trying it.”

  He laughed, obviously pleased, then pulled me against him, skin to naked skin. “Yes, älskling, I’d love nothing more than to,” his hand slid down to the curve of my ass, running along the seam parting my cheeks, “slide down your chimney.”

  By the sixth day, I was fully aware I’d never be able to give this man up again. But how could I keep him? As quickly as he worked his way into my bed, he worked his way into my heart. Every minute spent together he was attentive, passionate, possessive, and he was always within arms’ reach. We spent every waking moment together. We danced. We laughed. We went Christmas shopping and spent hours either curled up by the tree or out on the deck, talking about our favorite Christmas memories. He wanted to know all about the kids, and I was equally keen to hear about the last fifteen years we’d spent apart.

  He’d just given me what was probably the hundredth orgasm since our first night together. He hovered over me, staring down at me with such hunger, shivers tingled all the way down my spine. “I’m never letting you go again,” he panted. “Never.”

  I needed space. I didn’t want space. I needed to put something between us. I needed to tell him I’d never leave. I was a bundle of confusion and had no idea what to do. I hopped out of bed, claiming to get coffee as my excuse. While waiting for the pot to brew, I contemplated the idea of us giving this a real shot, being a real couple. God, Sven was only three years older than my son, Kale. But he made me feel younger, alive, and our connection was unlike any I’d ever had before. Age really was just a number, right?

  What would my kids think? Did it matter, if I was happy?

  Kids.

  A sudden pang hit my chest, and I knew I had my unwanted out.

  Abandoning the coffee, I returned to the bedroom to find Sven sitting up on the edge, flipping through television channels.

  “I can’t give you children,” I blurted out. “I’m too old for you. This can’t be anything other than a holiday fling.” Sven’s mouth tightened. “Be practical. You’re thirty-four. I’m forty-nine, about to be a grandma.”

  “Come here, Ginger,” he growled, watching me from where I stood in the doorway.

  My feet moved of their volition, straight towards him.

  He grabbed the tie at my robe and pulled, loosening it until the material spread and my breasts and belly were bare to him. “Merry Christmas to me, indeed,” he quipped, and I shivered at the heat in his gaze. “You came right to me, without hesitation, like the perfect Christmas gift wrapped in a pretty little bow.”

  My lips quirked as I tried to contain my smile. “Sven, listen to me,” I pleaded, but he ignored me.

  Instead, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me into his lap, situating me so I was straddling his waist. Situating me so his cock pressed against my entrance just so that any squirming would slide him right in.

  I battled the urge to squirm with fierce determination. Or perhaps not so fierce, because seconds later, Sven filled me to the hilt.

  He pressed quick kisses against the curve of my neck as his hands encouraged my hips to ride him. Far be it for me to protest.

  “Silence your sweet protests, älskling. You want this. You want me. Listen to your body. Age means nothing. It’s all about the chemistry. The physical connection. The emotional, as well.”

  “But…”

  The protest came out as a groan, thanks to Sven’s finger finding my clit and pressing firmly against it. My hips bucked up and down, frantically searching for the path to eternal bliss. It wasn’t long before starbursts lit up the room and I cried out his name, repeatedly until I was hoarse.

  Panting, I collapsed against him, my arms wrapped around his neck, my face in the crook of it. Sven grunted his release and then fell back, keeping me locked tightly in his arms.

  I sat up slowly, peering down at him through a shield of hair. He brushed it away from my face and gazed up at me. “Ginger, it’s not a problem. Kids. I’ve never wanted any of my own. And after my accident? Well, I can’t have any,” he paused, then winked at me. “But I can be one hell of a grandfather.”

  My heart soared with his admission. I couldn’t think of any other reason why we wouldn’t work out. I knew, then and there, that if tomorrow, if Sven wanted to stay, there’s no way I could deny him.

  Hours later we were sprawled out on my back deck, exhausted from hours spent in the kitchen doing the Christmas baking. And fucking. And all kinds of devious things that Sven, ravenous (and not for cookies) could come up with. I’d never be able to look at my kitchen table the same. We’d just gotten the kitchen all cleaned up, cookies and other baked goods all packed away for Christmas day. I should’ve known better, but I’d bent over to pick up an errant chocolate chip that’d fallen under the table. Sven’s cock was instantly pressed against my backside.

  I went to rise, but Sven’s hand came to the small of my back where he stopped me. “Stay,” he ordered. “Place your hands on the table. Don’t move.”

  I shivered with anticipation. “Sven…”

  “Fuck. Fuck. I’ve thought of taking you from behind so many damn times. You smell delicious. A morsel waiting to be devoured,” he whispered, peppering kisses on the curve of my neck.

  And devour me, he did. His body covered mine, his chest pressed against my back, his thick cock deep in my pussy. His hands captured mine, and he entwined our fingers while he fucked me, rutting like the most virile bull until he was spent, and I was crying out my pleasure for all the world to hear. It was the hottest, most erotic moment of my life.

  Now that we’d enjoyed coffee and whiskey, Sven laid me down on a soft blanket, then cocooned me with his body and another cover. Christmas lights twinkled all around, and a small fire was crackling in the pit nearby. He slid into me, slowly, and I felt every single inch a
s he stretched me out. His hands found mine, and he tangled our fingers together before placing them above my head. We were thoroughly connected, his body covering mine entirely as he slowly thrust in and out at an unhurried pace. I writhed beneath him, wrapping my legs around his waist, silently begging for him to go faster for me to reach that ultimate high.

  “Faster,” I pleaded, pushing my hips up to meet him sooner than he wanted.

  “Shh,” he whispered, his eyes shining down at me, colors dancing in them. “We’ve fucked all week, hjärtat. Tonight, I want to make love to you. Slowly. Tenderly. Completely.”

  “Sven,” I breathed, suddenly wanting the same.

  I slowed to his pace, enjoying the push and pull as we found a perfect rhythm. Sven gave when I took; he took when I gave. We were in perfect unison, and I knew then, why I had waited. Why no one else seemed worth bringing into my bed. Because Sven was always there, in my heart, and he was the only one I'd ever wanted. I had no idea how long we made love; time both seemed like it stopped and was endless. Nothing mattered but those moments when Sven worshiped my body, whispering Swedish sweet nothings in my ear. Just as the wave of my orgasm crested, Sven tightened his hold on my hands and pressed firmly against me so nothing could come between us. I closed my eyes to commit the moment to memory. I never wanted it to end. Because this? This was the ultimate intimacy, and I knew, Sven was it for me. He had my heart, and if I was honest with myself, he always had.

  Anyone who says the missionary position isn’t sexy simply isn’t doing it right. Because missionary with Sven? We may have fucked six ways to Sunday, but making love skin to skin? Connecting in the most primal way? It took the cake. He stretched out over me; every inch of our bodies touching, connected. We were the perfect fit. As if we were meant for each other. As if our bodies were molded precisely for this.

  “Hjärtat,” he whispered, his piercing blue eyes connected with mine. They were full of emotion, and a single tear slipped out of my eye. I'd waited a lifetime for this. Nearly half a century.

  It was absolutely worth it.

  In the aftermath of our lovemaking, we spent hours talking about the fifteen years that had separated us. It was comfortable, familiar, as if we’d never spent any time apart.

  “Sven, what does hjärtat mean?”

  I hadn’t wanted to ask, but curiosity got the better of me. Butterflies flitted about in my belly as I waited for his response.

  His fingers were splayed out over my belly when he turned to face me. “Hjärtat, in Swedish, means heart.”

  My own skipped a beat. He’d called me that twice while he was inside me. “Sven, it’s beautiful.”

  His hand came to my face where he cupped my cheek. The pad of his thumb ran soothing circles against my skin. “It’s true, Ginger. You are my hjärtat, and you’ve had mine since the day you left me.”

  I blinked back the tears that suddenly filled my eyes. Before I could return the sentiment, Sven’s lips descended, and he gave me a mind-numbing kiss, then tucked me into his side.

  “Sleep, baby. We only have one more day, and I have many wicked plans for you.”

  Warm and safe in Sven’s arms, I did exactly that. I fell into a dream-filled slumber full of nothing but images of the gorgeous, Swedish skier who’d captured my heart, and would forever have a hold of it.

  Even though it was the night before Christmas Eve, this was it for us. The culmination of our time together. We made love for hours under the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree, both of us desperately seeking to get our fill, not knowing when we’d find such passion again.

  I whimpered when Sven rolled away and I lost his warmth. If we only had a few hours left, I wanted to make the most of them, not spending a single second with our bodies unconnected. I watched as he crossed to the stereo and moments later, burst out into a fit of giggles as Clarence Carter’s “Back Door Santa” played over the speakers. Sven winked, then shimmied a little to the music before returning to my side.

  “I believe there’s one more thing on your bucket list we’ve yet to check off,” he whispered, his hand sliding to my ass. “But only if you’re sure.”

  Sven came back to me and pulled out a bottle of lube. Nerves twinged low in my belly, but I trusted him explicitly, and when I told him so, he covered my mouth with such aggression, I knew my lips would be swollen for days. He pulled back, and I could see every emotion he was feeling. Desire, affection, and possession radiated from his expression. His hands caressed every inch of my body until finally, I felt a finger at my hole. It was foreign, forbidden, yet it felt completely natural at some primal, basic level. At the same time, Sven captured my breast with his mouth, teasing, licking, and softly biting my puckered nipple. His free hand circled my clit, making me wet with desire. His finger moved from my hole, gathering up my slickness, and trailing back down to lubricate my ass.

  He pushed into me, and we both groaned. “You're so tight here, baby. And you’re so fucking wet already. It may sting a bit. Make sure you don’t tense up on me. Relax, nice and easy.”

  He continued coaching me until his finger was sliding in and out, quickly, and I was panting, wanting more. The pressure was intense at first, but with Sven attending to my clit, breast, and ass, I was nearly ready to burst with orgasm. “Sven, I’m ready,” I breathed.

  That was all it took. His cock lined up at my hole, and when he started to enter, his finger at my clit moved faster. The immediate pressure was so intense, I was unsure for a moment if I could do it. Just as I was about to tell him to stop, he pushed past the ring and slid in. The pressure turned to pleasure. Sven held still, pressing onto my back, his lips finding my neck. “You okay, baby?”

  “More than okay,” I replied. “I feel so full, so utterly claimed.”

  He nipped my skin, then began slowly pushing in and out of me, stretching me in hungry passion. I never imagined anal could be this way. So possessive, so primal, so utterly intimate. Before long, I felt Sven’s cock convulse just as my own orgasm was imminent. With one last hard, forceful thrust, we came in unison.

  “You’re amazing,” amazing," he whispered, both of us groaning when he slid out of me. I felt the loss immediately. “I’m going to get something to clean you up with.” He leaned down and brushed my hair away from my face, giving me a sweet kiss.

  My eyes blinked open to see Sven propped up on one elbow, his gaze intently perusing my naked body as if committing the sight to memory. As if this was it. The last time he’d see me this way.

  My chest tightened with the pain of my imminent loss. I’d never felt this way about anyone before, not even with the father of my children. With Sven, I was alive… I was fulfilled. For the first time in my life, I felt desired, wanted, and I couldn’t imagine moving on without him.

  As if he’d read my thoughts, Sven rolled on top of me, brushing a stray curl off my cheek. “Happy Christmas Eve, baby,” he whispered softly, staring into my eyes. Eyes that quickly brimmed with tears. Eyes that suddenly widened when Sven reached over and plucked something off the nightstand.

  A ring box. Sven’s grin widened at the shock that must’ve adorned my face. “Open it,” he insisted.

  With trembling fingers, I took the box and opened it to see an exquisite emerald setting on a glowing golden band.

  Sven took my fingers and entwined them with his. His dark eyes bored into mine. “My fiery beauty,” he whispered, his voice holding the same awe I was experiencing. “I’ve been holding on to this ring for fifteen years. I bought it after I lost you. I know it probably seems crazy, but I’d never met anyone like you. Your spirit, your outlook, your positive personality. You’re vibrant, caring, full of life, and you light up any room you walk into. You light up my heart. Ginger, you’re everything. And our connection? I felt it, deep in my soul, just after three days.” He paused, his brows furrowed. I held my breath, waiting for him to continue. “Then you left. I can’t say it broke my heart because you’d taken it with yo
u. But I knew, somehow, someway, I’d find you again, and when I did, I’d be able to place this ring on your finger.”

  A jumble of emotion ran through me. Could this be? Was I truly finding my happily ever after?

  “Sven,” I whispered, unable to put my thoughts into words.

  He pressed a quick kiss to my lips before pulling back. “I know this is fast, but fuck, after fifteen years, I can’t lie about how I feel. I’ll wait as long as it takes for you to be ready. I wanted to show you, so you’d believe not a day has passed that I didn’t crave you. It only took me three days to fall for you all those years ago. This time you’ve given me double that. What did you expect?”

  I circled my arms around his neck and stared into beautiful blue eyes that shone with love. My heart skipped a beat. And then another. “You didn’t need to convince me. I believe you.”

  Hope filled his eyes, and I knew, at that moment, I’d spend the rest of my life with this man. “You do?”

  “I do. After all, I haven’t stopped thinking about you, either. I’d be a hypocrite not to believe you.”

  He let out a triumphant laugh, then straddled my waist, peering down into my eyes. “Would it be crazy to say I love you? Jag älskar dig.”

  Hearing it in Swedish, for some reason, made it seem even more real.

  “Only if that makes me crazy, too,” I whispered, finally admitting to myself, and him, the truth in my heart.

  In the blink of an eye, Sven was suddenly inside me, thrusting, whispers of love punctuating every single one. When we were both panting from the aftermath, I wrapped my arms tightly around him and met his gaze. “I never want to lose this moment. I never want to leave this bed.”

  Sven’s eyes locked in on mine. “Then stay with me. Forever.”