It’s Christmas Eve,
maybe cold where you are. Maybe even snowing. Here’s a bit of
erotic romance to warm you up, from my MMF holiday short Almost
Home.
Blurb
Home is a state of
heart.
Suzanne and Gino have history going back to high school, but for years Suzanne has been three thousand miles away, preoccupied with her challenging career.
A mistletoe kiss at a holiday party reminds her of their old bond and proves that some things get better with age. When Gino rescues her from a New England blizzard, though, she discovers that she's not the only love in his life. Gino shares his bed and his colonial-era farm house with taciturn painter Harris Steele.
Snowed in, without electricity or running water, the three explore the many shapes a triangle can assume. Although she's far away from her everyday existence, Suzanne realizes that she's almost home.
Suzanne and Gino have history going back to high school, but for years Suzanne has been three thousand miles away, preoccupied with her challenging career.
A mistletoe kiss at a holiday party reminds her of their old bond and proves that some things get better with age. When Gino rescues her from a New England blizzard, though, she discovers that she's not the only love in his life. Gino shares his bed and his colonial-era farm house with taciturn painter Harris Steele.
Snowed in, without electricity or running water, the three explore the many shapes a triangle can assume. Although she's far away from her everyday existence, Suzanne realizes that she's almost home.
Merry Christmas to all!
The mug of tea cupped in
her hands chased the last bit of numbness from Suzanne’s fingers.
Propped up on a couch in Gino’s spacious kitchen, swaddled in
quilts, she watched him toss another log on the roaring fire. He
moved with easy grace, a man at home in his own skin.
The heat from the blaze
matched the desire simmering in her belly. She felt her body
expanding, unfolding. Her tension and fear evaporated. In their place
came delicious comfort edged with arousal. Gino poked at the glowing
timbers piled on the hearth. She admired the line of his broad back
and the curve of his buttocks under the stretched denim.
“Gino,” she called
softly. “Come here.”
He gave her a smile that
rivalled the blaze he tended. “Suzanne?” He sauntered over to sit
beside her half-prone form. “How are you feeling?”
“Much better, thanks to
you. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t come
along.” She grasped his hand, entwining their fingers. He laid his
other hand on top. It might have just been a gesture of friendship,
but it sent sparks swirling through her. Her nipples tightened into
hungry knots.
“You know, Suzy, I had
this strange feeling. Jack and I had just settled down to our annual
game of chess—one of our traditions—when suddenly I knew I had to
leave. I told them I had a headache, and actually, it felt a bit that
way—some kind of urgent need pounding in my skull. When I saw the
car burrowed into the snow bank, I knew right away that it was you.”
“I’m so grateful.”
He was close enough now that she could smell him, wood smoke with an
undercurrent of wintergreen. “I was pretty scared.”
“You should have let me
drive you,” Gino scolded. “But then you always were stubborn.”
He leaned back, away from her, and released her hand. Suzanne wanted
to pull him closer. Why did he hesitate? Didn’t he know she wanted
him?
“I’ve got to be back
in California by Monday morning,” she murmured. “Important
meeting. But I don’t suppose there’s any possibility of getting
to my hotel tonight, is there?”
“Not a snowball’s
chance in hell,” Gino replied triggering a laugh that relieved some
of the strain. “The governor’s called for a state of emergency.
The Mass Pike is closed to all but emergency vehicles. Latest
forecasts say we’re going to get two feet.” He caught her eyes as
though trying to read her thoughts. “Lady, you’re stuck here for
the foreseeable future.”
Suzanne reached for him.
“In that case, why don’t you kiss me?”
He allowed her to bring
his lips within inches of hers. Then he stopped her. “Are you sure?
I got the idea back at the party that I made you nervous. That you
still weren’t interested in being more than friends.”
“You do make me
nervous—but in a good way. I feel like a teenager when you’re
around, hot and bothered, excited and embarrassed. You’ve always
made me feel that way.”
“And that’s good?”
“I’m beginning to
think so. Why don’t you kiss me and we can find out?”
He didn’t need a second
invitation. Sliding his hands under the blankets, he gathered her to
his chest and planted his firm lips on hers. Even though she was
expecting this kiss, it still shocked her. Sudden heat swept through
her like a forest fire. Any last reservations burned to a crisp. He
took possession of her mouth, scarcely allowing her to take a breath.
Meanwhile his hands roved over her curves, sending waves of electric
pleasure shimmering down to her sex.
The velvet transmitted
every brush of his fingertips. She might as well have been naked. It
hardly mattered that she was wearing a bra or panties. He rolled one
brazen nipple between his thumb and forefinger, waking tremors in her
clit. She gasped into his mouth. He cupped her damp mound through her
clothing, his lips still glued to hers. She spread her legs, begging
for more, and he obliged, rubbing the velvet back and forth along the
groove of her pussy.
His groping made her
increasingly desperate. As though he read her thoughts, he broke the
kiss. “I want to see you naked,” he breathed. “I always have.”
She flung the quilts away
and pulled her dress over her head in one fluid motion. He watched,
clearly fascinated, eyes gleaming in the firelight. Reaching behind
her, she unhooked her crimson bra and set her ample breasts free. She
cupped them like an offering, her own hands feeling almost as
wonderful on her flesh as his. He fastened his mouth on one taut nub,
pinching the other. The sight of his dark head suckling was almost
enough to make her come. Gino, she thought, buffeted by a
confusing mix of emotions. After all this
time.
His hand snaked between
her thighs, wriggling into her soaked panties. A finger stroked her
clit. Lightning jolted her. Her back arched, sending the finger
slipping into her folds. “Oh please! I can’t take this!” she
moaned. “I need you inside me.”
Don’t forget to claim
your free copy of my BDSM erotic romance A
Contract for Christmas. My
holiday gift to you! Details here!
1 comment:
Merry Christmas Lisabet!
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