Welcome to Sunday Snog. This week's smooch is taken from my 2009 Christmas novella, Candy Canes and Coal Dust.
A Finnish skiing holiday is the perfect winter wonderland for Bridget to escape her ex at Christmas time - beautifully decked trees, roaring log fires and plenty of mulled wine. What she doesn't count on, however, is a very erotic, very dirty dream on the plane from London to Levi - three perfect lovers all indulging her every whim and desire, how could she not moan and groan and beg for more?
But every dream must end, and as Bridget wakes, with toe curling embarrassment, she realises every passenger on the plane has heard her frantic orgasm...including the gorgeous Irish guy sitting to her left!
Suddenly, he was there, standing right behind her. He, too, was naked and she could feel the heat of his body radiating onto hers as his erection kissed the hollow of her back.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yes.” She turned to face him and rested her hands on his chest, letting her fingers fill with dark coils of his body hair before sweeping up to his collarbone. He had a Celtic symbol tattooed on the ball of his right shoulder and her index finger traced its dark, intricate pattern.
“And you’re sure you’ve been a good girl all year?” he asked huskily.
“Oh, yes.” She licked her lips. “Very good indeed.”
“Because good girls get their deepest, darkest wishes granted at Christmas you know.”
“Mmm.” She pushed up on tiptoes and reached for a kiss. “It’s what I’m hoping for.”
He grinned, reached for the Santa hat she was still wearing and pulled it onto his own head. Then he kissed her, and God, what a kiss. His soft lips were gentle but insistent, urgent but controlled as his sweeping tongue chased and danced with hers. She let him in, happily, revelling in the taste of him—man and sex and maybe a hint of beer.
He wound his arms around her waist and pulled her tight against his body. Her nipples meshed with his scratching chest hairs, and his penis, jammed between their bodies, settled against her stomach. She melted into a pool of desire. It had been so long since she’d indulged her lust, her body’s wants and needs, and James was so much hotter than a daydream.
Next thing she knew, he was pulling her towards the end of the bed, small steps which didn’t interfere with the delicious connection of their mouths. “I want you so bad,” he mumbled onto her lips. “I want you to ride me. Will you do that, baby? Will you ride me?’
Bridget managed a mumble of agreement as his mouth tore from hers and he sank his behind onto the very edge of the bed. She stepped in between his spread, bent knees. He reached forward and ran his hands over her butt cheeks, massaging and kneading before he laid his upper body flat and held his hands out for her. “Hop on,” he said with a lopsided grin.
Have a great weekend.