He tosses me on the mattress with a grunt, removing his shirt with a fluid yank of his arm, and then stands over me gloriously naked. I’ve never seen a man so strong, and so virile as Anders. The veins running up his forearms and the carved shoulders and cut of his pectoral muscles that flex under the wispy mats of light hair have my fingertips twitching to touch him.
And the accentuated dips and valleys of his abdomen, bisected with a line of masculine hair that I follow all the way south to his ramrod hard-on, have me licking my lips ready to feast on him.
I swallow, watching as he removes my boots, socks, wrenching me free from my jeans and then slowly, with agonizing precision, peels me out of my sweater, leaving me only in my bra and panties.
I look down as a thought occurs to me. Due to my travel plans today, I chose my most comfy bra and panties, which don’t even match nor are they anywhere in the vicinity of sexy. But the reverence in Anders’s eyes, and the sweeping touch of his fingertips over the cups of my bra, indicate he has no qualms over my choice of lingerie.
He silently studies my body, learning the curve and shape of it as he glides his calloused fingers over my distended nipples that poke through the cups, exploring the skin at the plunge of my cleavage before he draws a path down my belly.
He flirts with the heat of my center, dipping a finger underneath the elastic band of my panties, flicking over the wetness there, drawing it up to my belly to circle my navel before he leans over and licks it away with his tongue.
I buck at the bolt of pleasure he evokes and awakes in me. The sensual arousal that accelerates and burns between my legs and the tension that grows tight like a rubber band, has me ready to snap.
And the feel of his beard against my sensitive skin is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. The delicious scrape of it over my tummy and then up to my breasts has me squirming with pleasure. While I fill the room with quiet gasps and noises from the hunger building inside me, Anders is quiet in his exploration. But he then lets out a deep exhale and his breath accelerates, growing louder and more pronounced, when he removes my bra and suckles a nipple in his mouth.
A growl emits from his chest and I feel the rumble of what sounds like thunder between us.
“Fuck, you taste sweet.”
I literally light up like a tree topper under his compliment. He’s less vocal of a lover than I’m used to, but words aren’t what does it for me. It’s actions. It’s the sexy sounds that drive me wild. That push me closer to that elusive summit of the mountain.
I’m soon divested of all my clothing and he presses his length into the juncture between my legs, sliding through the wetness of my folds, each of us holding onto one another in preparation for what’s to come.
Anders reaches between us, gripping his cock in his hand, the head at my entrance, as he takes me in a blinding kiss, thrusting inside me as he does. My body accepts him willingly – greedily enclosing around his erection, my palms squeezing his ass cheeks as we simultaneously moan in pleasure.
Words can’t effectively describe the feeling of fullness or completeness that washes over me. It’s shocking and unbelievable, but so damn perfect.
I lose all sense of space and time with each slide of his cock, with each wild and passionate kiss, and with the pleasure that exists with Anders inside me.
As his mouth locks on my neck, the whiskers of his beard teasing and tickling my sensitive skin, he pins me in place with his hips. And then the world stops turning, and time stands still when Anders wedges his hand between our bodies, as his tongue glides over mine, sweeping over my teeth with deep, probing flicks, as his fingers flick my clit in the same circular motion.
My body reacts with eager anticipation, as a fireball of sensation whips through my limbs and erupts from my core. I buck and scream a tortured but desperate cry.
With a croaked curse, his eyes bore into mine with such intensity that it seems like I’m looking into his soul, as if he’s baring his entire heart in our locked gaze. As if he’s saying to me, “You’ve found me. Don’t ever let me go.”
I beg, I thrash, I come undone as the intensity of my orgasm rocks through my core and causes an avalanche of pleasure crushing over me wave, upon wave.
“Anders…I’m coming. I need you to come with me.”
As if that was the signal he’d been waiting for, Anders lets out a savage snarl, throwing his head back in rapturous ecstasy as his body tightens and then shutters, releasing hotly inside of me.
I close my eyes and ride the aftershocks of pleasure, as we both come down from this unexpected high together.
Both quiet in the lingering afterglow, wrapped up in each other’s arms, silently reflecting on the surprising gift we’ve both been given on this Christmas Eve night.
A gift of human touch, a break from the loneliness and a brief moment of peaceful bliss.
Chapter 6
Anders
I watch her sleep, curled up against my chest, her strawberry blonde locks fanning out over my pillows. The soft, relaxed expand and contract of her chest indicates a sign of contentment.
It fills me with a peace inside my soul that has been missing in action for years.
And then a moment of intense grief and guilt hits me like a boulder to the heart. I am cheating on the memory of my dead wife.
I’ve fucked and am now sleeping with a stranger in the bed I once shared with Shawna. Every pleasurable married moment we spent together has just been overshadowed and replaced with my sexual exploits with a woman I just met.
She’s not a stranger. Your heart knows her.
I shake the thought free that came to me unbidden while we were making love. I couldn’t get past the feeling that I’m somehow connected with Ivy in some strange, phenomenal way. As if we’d been together in another life or in my dreams.
Ivy sighs in her sleep and I can’t help the small smile that it brings to my lips. A smile I haven’t experienced in a very long time.
Her naked body lies motionless next to me, and it beckons me to feather my fingers over her collarbone, down her arm, slipping in front to toy with her pert nipple. She moans huskily, eyes still closed and still in slumber.
A lock of her hair tumbles free over her cheek and I whisk it away with the lightest of touches. I’m in awe how this angel came into my life so unexpectedly. Whether right time and right place, or just serendipity, it fills me with a joyful happiness just to have her warm, naked body next to me. And whether she’s gone tomorrow or stays for a while, I’m just glad we had this moment.
Her soft voice startles me. “Are you staring at me like a creeper? Did I fall into bed with a serial killer?”
She laughs huskily and rolls over, propping herself up on an elbow and arching an eyebrow with humor.
I shrug a shoulder and toss her hair back behind her shoulder to expose the delicate skin that I bend down to pepper with kisses. Gently suckling her neck, I work my way up her jawline and then find her lips, pulling her on top of me with a lasso of my arm around her back.
When she’s settled nice and snug over my hardening length, she eyeballs me with a sexy smirk and then teases me with the rock of her hips, extracting a low groan from the depths of my throat.
“Not a murderer,” I insist, flicking her supple nipple, teasing it between my thumb and finger as she gasps and pushes forward. “But I think you might kill me with this body of yours.”
She’s so hot and slick between her folds, and I lose my fucking mind at the seductive way she moves over me, swiveling her hips as she rides me, seeking her pleasure.
“This has never happened to me before.”
I open my eyes, entranced at her fluid motion, as she arches her back and I cup both of her breasts in my hands. Fondling and plumping the firm pair of tits before greedily sucking them in my mouth, one and then the other.
She undulates, picking up speed as the friction grows, the intensity continuing to climb.
“What hasn’t happened? You’ve never ridden
a lonely, horny recluse on Christmas Eve before?” I say wryly, dropping my hands to her hips to assist her in her endeavor to orgasm.
I want to come, as well, but enjoy the slow and easy ride, and the wet glide of her pussy over my cock. It feels incredible and I want to worship her all night long.
Ivy chuckles and smacks her hands over my chest, nails digging my pecs, as the position now enables the head of my cock to meet her entrance. And my god, the heat that awaits is a gift from heaven.
Her pace increases, her breaths becoming harsh pants, her lips parting in a subtle request to be kissed.
“Anders… I meant I’ve never slept with a stranger before. This is…” She pauses mid-sentence, chasing a release that’s ripe for the taking.
I decide to help her along, guiding my cockhead to her entrance, thrusting inside and simultaneously circling her clit with my thumb. She spasms around me gloriously, letting go to seek her fulfillment and release.
I come as soon as I feel her walls clench around me, capturing her breast in my mouth as I let go a torrent of curses, shooting long and hard, releasing inside her for the second time tonight. After a three year hiatus from sex, my body is reclaiming its glory days and each time I come with Ivy is the gift that keeps on giving.
Replete and utterly satisfied, Ivy drops her head to her shoulder with a soft moan, the change in position causing my now semi-erect cock to slip out of her. I shift her to my side, now sated and sleepy, and run my hand up and down her spine.
“Stay with me for the holidays. Come to my mom’s tomorrow for our family Christmas dinner.”
She snuggles in, warm and soft, and murmurs her reply before falling sound asleep once again.
“Only if there’s pie.”
Chapter 7
Ivy
I wake up to the smell of breakfast cooking and the scent of maple syrup.
Is Anders making breakfast for us? I’ve never had a man cook me breakfast.
In bed alone, my naked body shivers in the cold bedroom, and I tug the blanket up to cover my exposed breasts. As I do, I glance down and notice the remnants of the beard-burn, red and blotchy over the tops of my breasts. I raise a hand to cup the curve of my breast, soothing and plumping the flesh that was well tended to last night by Anders.
Deciding I should go in search of a bathroom and help him with breakfast, I spy a discarded plaid shirt on the floor by a chair and toss it over my head, poking my arms through as I get swallowed up in the oversized material.
While I was focused on other things last night, I didn’t get a very good look around his bedroom in the dark. But now in the light of day I see how gorgeously appointed everything is, and how the dark granite tile of blues and greys in the master bath marble together to complement beautifully with the cherry pine of the cabinets. And the shower is a work of art that makes me want to step in and never come out.
I take care of business and wash up, opening a medicine cabinet in search of some mouthwash to get rid of my morning breath. As I open the door, the first thing I notice sitting alone on the middle shelf is a pregnancy test stick.
A positive one. With a note attached in swirly handwriting that says, “I love you, A. You’re going to be the best daddy.”
My stomach tumbles with acid and bile, as I slowly back away, my heart stopping the moment I hit the wall that wasn’t there a second ago. It’s a wall of mountain man, heat and tension penetrating through his T-shirt. I gasp and spin around quickly, raising my hands as if caught in the act of snooping.
“I’m sorry,” I sputter. “I was looking for mouthwash…I didn’t mean to snoop.”
Anders raises his hands and grabs me gently by the shoulders. I’m worried he’s going to march me right out of his house for being a nosy woman.
But instead, he pinches his full lips together and flicks a glance behind me. I know he’s looking at what I just found.
His voice is gravely with sorrow and pain. “Shawna – my wife – was three months pregnant with our first child when her car was thrown off the side of the mountain in an avalanche.”
My mind reels with the horror of his wife’s death and what he must have gone through in the aftermath of her death. I can’t form words, I just gape up at him, unshed tears stinging my eyes as I stare into his thoughtful and remorseful blue gaze. They look bottomless, like the deep blue sea.
“Anders. I can’t even…”
He nods his head. “Yeah, either could I. I haven’t always been a loner asshole.” He chuckles with self-deprecating humor.
“There are days I wake up and still expect to find her here. But then realization hits – this lonely existence without her and I remain submerged in bitter disappointment and anger.”
I enclose my arms around his middle, holding onto him as if my hug will make everything better. Will purge all of the pain and grief of everything he’s lost in life. His wife and his child.
“Anyone would be angry over that loss, Anders. You must’ve been in so much pain. It’s unimaginable.”
Taking his hand, I lead him out into the A-frame style living room, and we sit down on the couch where we were last night. He remains thoughtful and silent, as I hold onto his hand, thumbing over the ridges of his knuckles, tracing patterns over his hand. In quiet solidarity and support.
Finally, he raises his eyes and glances around the room.
“You know, she really loved the holidays. This place was always decorated like a winter wonderland. We’d cut the tree from our property and trim it with all these handmade ornaments that she made and that were passed down from generations before her.”
I follow his gaze, imagining the ginormous tree that would be set in the corner by the floor-to-ceiling window, lights flickering and dancing festively.
Taking a chance, I ask him to consider the possibility.
“I know my skills in decorating won’t come close to your wife’s, but I’m happy to help you if you want. I’ve never cut down a tree before.”
The thought actually excites me and by the expression on Anders’s face, it seems to invigorate his spirits, as well.
I stand up and hold my hand out and invite him to do the same. “Come on, Mountain Man. Let me see how sexy you look wielding an ax.”
* * *
We ate the breakfast he’d cooked before donning our winter gear to head out to the property behind his home, trudging through the thick, white snow that had fallen overnight. I watched in giddy awe as he worked every toned and ripped muscle in his arms, back and legs to chop down a massive Douglas Fir, before dragging it a quarter mile back to his house.
While Anders got out all the decorations and tree lights that had been stored away in his attic, I showered and made us hot cocoa with mini-marshmallows and turned on the local radio station that was playing 24-hours of Christmas music.
With the bright white of the snow and sun outside, I stare out the front windows with a view of the mountain ridge, basking in the warmth and glow, as I wonder more about Anders’s life since his wife died.
“Have you always lived here on the mountain?” I ask, as Anders digs through box upon box of tree trimmings and ornaments, handing me a few to begin strategically placing on the tree.
“Yeah, born and raised. This is my family’s mountain.”
His comment gives me pause, and I spin on my socks to gape at Anders, who grumbles over the set of tangled lights he holds in his bear paw-sized hands.
“This mountain and the entire area belong to your family?”
He lifts his gaze to mine, eyebrows narrowed in an expression of, “don’t you know?”
“Well, yeah. Knight’s Mountain and Knight’s Falls were founded and established back in the late 1800’s by my great-great-grandfather. My last name is, after all, Knight.”
A bubble of laughter I can’t contain bursts from my chest. “You really were my knight-in-shining armor last night. How lucky I was that you were forced to come to my aid.”
Anders stops fiddling wit
h the string of matted lights, places them on the floor, and step in close, his hands sliding behind my neck, cupping my cheeks to lock eyes with mine.
“I’m the lucky one and I’m sorry I was such an asshole at the café. I haven’t done well with people outside my family. But you’re like this angelic light that somehow shines through to blot out the darkness within me. You truly are my angel.”
Tree-trimming duties neglected, Anders makes love to me by the roaring fire, as the song Silent Night plays on the radio.
Chapter 8
Anders
“Oh Mary, everything was so delicious. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten a better holiday meal in my life. I’m absolutely stuffed.”
My mother’s grin is a mile wide with pride at Ivy’s compliment, who sits next to her at my family’s holiday table. Mom was tickled pink when I called earlier and asked her to include one more place setting in our already full-to-the-brim table. Two of my uncles and their wives and families are all gathered around, as per the usual Christmas tradition, where mom and the aunts make all the food for everyone to enjoy.
No one even batted an eyelash when I introduced them to Ivy, except my aunt Marguerite, my mother’s younger sister, who tittered animatedly over our new beautiful guest, turning things into the Spanish Inquisition on Ivy’s background and history.
My mom reaches over and squeezes Ivy’s shoulders with a side-armed hug, smiling from ear-to-ear.
“I’m so glad you enjoyed it, sweetheart. I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to have such a beautiful young woman with us at the table this year. And I’m so glad my son finally remembered his manners and invited you to join us.”
She flashes that knowing motherly stare and I shrug a shoulder blandly. I know she’s just kidding and has always been understanding of the toll my grief took on me after Shawna died. It nearly killed her, too, because she’d known Shawna her whole life.
The Knight Before Christmas: A Mountain Man Holiday Short Story Page 3
