Holiday Heat II

“Fuck, Rose. You’re… perfect. Don’t move. Let me look at you. ”

His attention, his command… it’s so sexy. The feeling is intoxicating, and it makes me bolder. Braver. I want him to see me. I want him to touch me.

I need him to touch me. My body is electric with the desperate need to feel his hands on me.

My pussy pulses, and I can’t deny how aware I am of the way my hard nipples ache now that I’m exposed like this.

“He’s fully dressed, not even touching me, and I’m naked in front of him except for my stockings and heels. ”

“Can I- I need you to tell me now if you don’t want to do this. Can I touch you, Rose?Please. ”

I’ve never heard a man speak to me like that. With such raw need and command and it sends a flood of desperation to my pussy. I’m so wet, I can feel the dampness of my response to him on the inside of my thighs.

“Yes. Touch me.”

I expect him to move toward me, to kiss me, but he doesn’t. Instead, he drops to his knees and one strong hand wraps around my thigh, lifting my leg until– Oh god. Until my heel is resting on his shoulder, my legs spread wide as he kisses his way down my thigh until…

He’s kissing my pussy.

My back arches against the door, his tongue is hot and gentle as he splits me open, spreading my soaking pussy lips with precision and god, it feels incredible.

“Fuck, you taste so good… you’re so wet for me. So good”

His mouth on me is so good, so perfect. It’s everything I didn’t know I needed as he works me with his lips, his tongue. He leaves nothing unexplored as he licks and kisses, sucks and circles me. He thrusts his tongue into my needy pussy, and I can’t help the desperate sounds I make while he eats me out against the door.

I’ve never been this responsive, but I’ve never been tongue fucked while standing either so

“Oh, fuck, yes. Right there.”

He hits the perfect spot, and my whole body arches into his mouth, my hips rolling of their own accord as I grind into his perfect mouth. Begging for more. God, I need—

“More, fuck, yes. Don’t stop.”

“You like that? Right here?”

He does it again, licking me from pussy to clit in one long, swirling swipe with pressure that reaches through time and space to make my mind go blank of everything but desperate need for this man. He’s working me so good, his tongue, the perfect pace and pressure, his lips sucking my clit hard and long enough to leave me desperate but never giving me…

“Please, fuck, please Ben. Please.”

“You want me to keep going? Then I want you to cum. Ride my face, Rose, and cum for me. ”

“Yes, yes… fuck, right there.”

I’m so close, and I don't know if it’s his words or the situation but.. It doesn’t really matter when it feels this fucking good

I do exactly as he asks, I roll my hips, grinding my pussy against his tongue as I ride his face, my orgasm building fast and hot, moving through me like wildfire that I can’t stop, don’t want to stop.

“Oh fuck, I’m close, I’m–”

“Cum.”

“That was…”

“Only the beginning. Where’s the bedroom?”

His mouth is wet with me, lips shining and swollen, but he doesn’t wipe it away before he dips his head to mine and kisses me, hard. I can taste myself on his tongue. It’s so hot.

We’re kissing and walking, moving down the hall toward the bedroom between desperate kisses and popping buttons as I work to remove his shirt. I want to feel him.

“Off. want you naked.”

“Needy girl, aren’t you?”

And I can’t argue because I am needy. And desperate and impatient and achingly desperate for more of him.

When he’s naked, he gives me everything I want and more, pressing me into the mattress, his cock notched between my thighs so we’re humping as we kiss like teenagers. The slick slide of his hard dick between my even slicker pussy lips shouldn’t feel so good, but I think I could cum like this…

“So good.. Fuck, I’m not even inside you and I already want to fucking cum”

“The rush of pride at how desperate, how close to cumming he sounds just from grinding his dick against my pussy makes me feel incredible. But I need more. ”

“Want you inside me.”

“Condom?”

“Drawer?”

“I've got one… pocket of my… oh, fuckkkk, of my pants.”

“He shifts, twisting away from me to reach for his pants and I take the opportunity to roll out from under him until I’m on my hands and knees…”

“You want it like this, Rose? On your hands and knees for me… fuck, so good.”

“He grabs my hips, pulling me back, rocking his hips until he’s pressing against me and I’m begging and I don’t know who’s more desperate as he- ”

“You ready for me, baby?”

“So fucking ready…”

And as he slides into me, I’ve never felt so fucking alive.

With my feet tucked under me, a purring cat beside me and a fire roaring, I feel a peace unlike anything I’ve ever known. Or at least, that’s what I’m telling myself. What I actually am is bored out of my mind. No amount of walking through the quaint village or reading thoughtful books seems to be filling the space my thoughts take up when I’m alone with them.

It’s only like 4 in the afternoon but it’s been dark here for almost an hour and there’s absolutely nothing good on Netflix, so I’ve been making do with a running monologue of all my thoughts to the cat..

“Do you think it’s more or less pathetic that I’ve travelled all this way just to be just as bored as I could have been at home?”

“At least you’re enjoying my company”

“Fair enough. There’s only so many conversations I can have with a cat in a day”

I don’t want to talk to myself either. And I definitely don’t want to scroll social media after the... Hashtag blessed ordeal. But I don’t have to be alone. If I’m feeling this lonely, there’s a chance that Rose is too, so I pick up the phone and video call her.

“Amelia, Hi! Good morning! Errr, good evening, I suppose.”

“How’s it going? You look… tired. But like in a good way. The glowy way. Like you got a great facial. Oh my god, did you try the in-house skincare specialist?”

“Um, not exactly. I’ll take the compliment, you sure know how to make a girl feel good. How’s it going over there? ”

“Do you know where the milk frother is?”

“Um, oh! Uh—”

“ROSE! Was that…is there a man in my apartment? Did he stay the night?”

“Um…”

I try not to get too far ahead of myself as she tries to think of what to say. But the pause is all the answer I need.

“It was! He did! You didn’t get a good facial, you had good sex… I mean, maybe there was a facial involved. I’m not judging. But I need to know…. Did you have sex with a stranger? Or is it someone I know?”

“Let’s see… you went to the christmas party. Who else usually goes? Lucas, from the third floor? No, he’s dating that artist… Hm, maybe Mr. Humphrey, he is a bit of a silver fox but… not your type… hmmm- OH! Ben! Mr Casual charm and god, those dimples! It’s totally Ben, isn’t it? ”

“Possibly. Maybe. Ugh! Fine, yes. That’s… yeah, Ben is here.”

“I knew it! You’re glowing. It’s a very… ‘I made a questionable decision and it paid off’ kinda vibe. ”

“Well it’s certainly not a decision I’d usually make but… no regrets right? I’ve spent so long feeling invisible, it felt so good to be seen. ”

“I get that. And honestly, it’s really working for you.”

“Thank you, really. But enough about me. How’s it going for you? ”

“It’s good. Quiet. So quiet. But listen, I’m glad you called. I meant to message you. This guy came by, Nick? He brought your Christmas tree…”

I trail off, because I can’t really think of a polite way to tell her I probably made sure he’d never sell her another Christmas tree again.

“Oh dear, of course he did. I should have cancelled it, but I totally forgot. And Nick, he’s a man of his word.”

“He definitely is that. And, now I have a tree.”

“And how did that go?”

“About as well as you’re imagining it’d go when someone delivers a 7 foot tall Christmas icon to a woman actively at war with Christmas. I definitely owe him an apology… But I’m not sure how to say ‘I’m sorry for insulting you, your livelihood, and possibly your emotional stability in one fell swoop, I swear I’m not a soulless Christmas-hating robot, please forgive me’... when I don’t even know how to find him again.”

“Well, I can help you with one of those things. His business card is next to the kettle. He doesn’t really do the phone… or email… he’s kind of old school that way. But the address for his farm is on there. It’s open to the public most afternoons. ”

By the time I’d wrapped up the video call with Amelia and gotten the courage to face Ben, the post-sex glow had worn off and I found myself fully immersed in panic mode whilst trying to unmake the largest bed I’d ever seen in my life.

“Oh no… oh no, no, no. What have I done?”

Okay. Deep breaths. You are a grown woman, Rose. Adults have one-night stands. With gorgeous men. In luxury apartments that don’t belong to them. Perfectly normal. And the fact that he left me a note, and then left while I was in the shower? Also super normal. Zero to do with me. Besides, he made me a coffee before he left. That’s got to count for something. No one makes coffee for a disappointing hookup… right?

“This is not how I’m supposed to be finding myself. I came here to… I don’t know! Reflect, do yoga and journal or something ”

I definitely did not come here to have the hottest sex of my life with Amelia’s neighbor just because he’s so hot he could be responsible for global warming…

and then do copious amounts of laundry in the most complicated machine I’ve ever seen in my life.

“Delicate eco-foam refresh? That sounds like the third course of a taster menu I can’t afford.”

“Oh God, stop! Stop! No, that’s not… oh brilliant.”

“I cannot believe this. I came to New York to find myself… not lose my knickers. ”

But honestly, I can’t say I regret a moment of it.

“This is ridiculous. Normal people don’t chase down men they yelled at to apologize. They just… repress. Or send cookies. Apology cookies”

And yet, here I am. Acting very not normal when I show up at this poor man’s doorstep after insulting him, to make himself feel better.

“That’ll do you, just 20 quid.”

“Okay, alright, sorry sir but I only have… like, 5 American dollars… (rummaging again)... a Dior lipstick and… the heel from a Louboutin I broke in…I haven’t gotten to… any chance you take American Express? Doesn’t matter. Can I just- ”

“Sorry love, cash only. No signal here, you see.”

“Morning! Donald, what do I owe you?”

I feel like disappearing into the snow when Nick reaches across me and into the taxi, handing the driver several bills that he produces from absolutely nowhere.

Great. Now I have to apologise for being a Christmas ruiner and a damsel in distress.

“Cheers, Nicholas, my lad.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“You’re welcome. But I admit, I didn’t expect to see you again… especially not here. To what do I owe the pleasure? ”

“I know, and I’m sorry for intruding. I came to… well, I just wanted to apologize. For, you know, the incident. With the tree.”

“Is that what we’re calling it? An incident?”

“Yes, an incident. Look, I’d had the trip from hell and all I wanted was to escape Christmas… then a massive christmas tree and Mr. Christmas himself show up on my doorstep like the plot of the next Hallmark holiday special and— And I overreacted. Massively. ”

“Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself. It happens. Not everyone is ready for Christmas to literally come knocking at their door.”

“Exactly. And… I’m still sorry. You really didn’t deserve the wrath of a wronged New Yorker.”

“Apology accepted. But you’re not the first city girl to underestimate the power of a countryside Christmas…I still think there’s hope for you. ”

The easy acceptance of my apology catches me by surprise and I feel a little like my heart of ice is thawing when he smiles. But only a little.

“Tell you what… if you’re sticking around, me and some mates are heading to the pub tonight. Christmas quiz, a good pint, and better company. You should come.”

“A pub quiz? I don’t exactly scream local trivia.”

“That’s fine. You can just relax and enjoy, blend in with the locals. It’ll balance out all our brains with your beauty.”

“Are you implying I don’t have brains?”

“I-uh…”

“Or that I could ‘blend in’ at a pub?”

“Not at all, but it’d be fun to watch you try.”

At first I don’t realise that sound, the laughter, is coming from me. But now that I’m paying attention, I feel the unfamiliar tug of a genuine smile at my lips, and a lightness in my chest I’m not sure I’ve ever felt in New York.

“Pick you up at 7?”

And I think I surprise us both when I say:

“Sure, why not?”

This is exactly what I needed. Fresh air. Perspective. A new outlook. The bustle of the city is perfect for forgetting who I was and figuring out who I want to be.

Not to fall in love and have happily ever after. This is about me. About finding myself.

Or at least, I hope if I tell myself that enough, it’ll start to stick. Because this city really is a winter wonderland of chaos and magic. It’s so cold I can see my breath, but look! That girl over there is wearing shorts and she’s owning it. That’s New York Confidence. That’s what I came here for.

And coffee. I definitely came here for coffee. It’s just like out of the films, the little carts and kiosks serving all manner of things. Hot dogs! At 9 in the morning! Better just stick with the coffee.

“Next please!”

“Hi, I’d just like a cinnamon latte please?”

“Sorry, doll. Cash only.”

“Right I– oh, alright then, thanks very much.”

“There’s an ATM across the street, you can–”

“I’ve got it.”

“It’s him. Ben. Of course, it’s him. In a city of 8 million people and somehow, he’s here. Looking like he’s walked right out of a snowglobe. ”

“Oh! Hi Ben.”

“Hi yourself, looks like you need a caffeine rescue?”

“h, no, I was just–”

“So, what’ll it be?”

“A large hot chocolate, and whatever she’s having.”

I want to refuse, but he’s handing over cash before I can think of what to say. I mean, I really shouldn’t accept the kindness. Especially since he made me coffee, but by the time I recovered from my laundry-fueled panic, it was cold and I couldn’t figure out how to work the damn microwave. .Without caffeine, I feel a little hopeless and still lost in my daydreams of our night together.

Which suddenly feels more embarrassing now that he’s…here. It was just a hookup and a cute gesture, and now, it’s just another cup of coffee. But I can’t help myself.

“I can get some cash, from the ATM- he said it’s over there? Somewhere? ”

“I’m sure there is but the fees will be outrageous. Don’t worry, I’ve got this. Consider it payback for me ducking out on you this morning during your shower karaoke.”

“Oh god, you heard that?”

“Steel and glass are great sound conductors, I think the neighbors three floors down heard that.”

“Shall we walk?”

“I should speak, say literally anything instead of just gawking at him as he hands me my drink. But I don’t know what to say, so I take the drink gratefully and nod, falling into step beside him. ”

“So, Rose-from-England, what’s on your agenda today? Shopping? Sight Seeing? A famous New York Coffee cart? ”

“All of the above actually, whilst trying not to look like a tourist. How’m I looking?”

I realise how it sounded a second too late, but he’s already smiling, his gaze travelling over me in a slow perusal, like he’s remembering what I look like naked. Or maybe I’m imagining it all.

“Honestly? You look good. Like you belong ”

Don’t remember what it felt like when he was looking at you like this in bed, while he was inside you… oh god, don’t think that. He cannot know– Don’t blush. Whatever you do, don’t blush.

“I’ll take that. Though I did almost get hit by a cyclist this morning, which would have really shattered the illusion in a spectacular fashion”

“Oh no no that would have been the most New Yorker thing of all. Tourists are careful, but a real New Yorker knows traffic laws are just suggestions. They take chances.”

“Not that I’m encouraging you to get hit by a cyclist, or wander into traffic.”

God, he’s charming. Infuriatingly charming. And that stupid dimple, why does he have a dimple? No one mentioned dimples in the terms and conditions of heartbreak recovery.

“Rose? You okay?”

“Oh! Yeah, sorry. Just jet lag. And caffeine deprivation. Jetlag and caffeine deprivation. ”

“Well I’m glad I could help with one of those…Though last night might have made the other worse. Drink up.”

As we walk along the Manhattan streets, I can’t help but think that I could get used to this. The city. The sounds. The company… Him. Especially him.

Stop it! Don’t be ridiculous, Rose!

“So, is this your signature move? Rescuing women from themselves with a well-timed gift of coffee? ”

“Depends. Sometimes I switch it up, lean into the whole hero thing and rescue tourists from overpriced souvenirs too.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

As I take a sip of my coffee, I can’t help but feel the weight of his gaze on me. It burns through me, settling low in my belly with a low hum of need that reminds me how good his mouth felt.. How perfect his hands were… how good it felt when he–

And I think I’m in trouble, because I like the way it feels when he notices me like this. I really like it. And I want more.

“Alright, the team’s decided: you have to name of our pub quiz group.”

“How about the ‘I want to go home’s?”

“Perfect, I’ll put us down as ‘The Cheerful Americans’”

“Of course you will.”

He’s actually insufferable. Nothing ruffles his feathers. He’s always smiling and it doesn’t matter how hard I try, I can’t get under his skin the way he seems to so easily get under mind. And somehow it’s… cute?

“Okay okay, it’s here. The first question is… ‘Who wrote the Fairytale of New York?’. WHAT! Are you joking mate, that’s so easy! It’s the Pogues! ”

“How did you even know that?!”

“Basic cultural knowledge for all merry folk. You’d know if you weren’t so busy fantasizing about dropkicking Christmas.”

“I’m not fantasizing about dropkicking Christmas. Just, maybe lightly rolling it into traffic.”

“Why, that’s practically festive for you!”

“So, Amelia from New York, are you always so averse to joy, or is the dreary British weather bringing out your worst?”

“I prefer the term ‘emotionally efficient’. Grumpy is offensive in grinch culture.”

“Sure, sure, of course. And I’m just aggressively well adjusted.”

His quick wit and easy smile make it hard to hold on to my straight laced, straight faced bad mood, and I find myself—

“You’re smiling. I didn’t think that was possible”

“Don’t get used to it.”

“Oh come on, just admit it. You’re... Enjoying yourself. ”

“Maybe I am… but just a little.”

“Well I’ll be. We’ll make a pub-going Brit out of you yet.”

“Walk you home?”

“You just want to gloat cause you won”

But I don’t want to tell him no. It’s been… I’ve had a great time tonight, and I want to hold on to the fun, just a little longer. So I nod.

It’s quiet out here. Too quiet. I can hear my heart doing… weird things. It feels light and almost… fizzy. Is that– what is this feeling? Probably indigestion.

As we walk along, I find myself less disgusted by the Christmas lights strung between every fence post, and the ornaments tucked into every holly bush and fir tree along the village lane.

It’s almost quaint and Nick quiet presence at my side makes it feel even more atmospheric.

It’s comfortable, being with him like this. Or maybe it’s the beer or three I had at the pub. Who’s to All I know is, we’re almost to the cottage, and I’m not sure I’m ready for this night to end.

“Tonight was fun”

“Yeah. It was. Against all odds ”

“Has it changed your mind about Christmas? Or about me?”

My heart is racing, and I hope that he can’t hear it in the quiet of the night. He's close, and it’s just us. I want– I can’t get caught up in what I want, no matter how wonderful this night was.

“Maybe a little.”

“I’ll take that. Goodnight, Amelia”