Page 72 of Unwrapped

“So sweet. Always surrender to me. You’re mine, my love. Only mine.”

“Yes. I swear it,” I gasp as he lips tug my tender nipple into his mouth. His tongue and teeth work it over as his hands delve deeper, faster, harder.

“Come for me.”

“Ah…,” I gasp, convulsing into a symphony of pleasure as my orgasm flows through me from my core, rippling outward.

“Who are you?”

For some reason, I’m unable to see my lover’s face. It’s hidden against my body and he never raises his head.

“You already know who I am. I’m in your soul and you’re in mine.”

Desperately, I grab the back of his head in an attempt to lift his face from my breasts. Just as he’s about to look me in the face…I’m ripped from my dream by the sound of a plow beneath my window.

“Shit.”

I’m jarred from my dream, again horny as all hell, wet and aching for sex. The hard kind of a fast fuck that will make this pain go away. I’m temped in my dazed state to go down the hall, sneak into Dare’s room and ride him like a cowgirl.

But I know the sweet ecstasy will be replaced by pure pain and humiliation shortly after.

Instead, my hands creep down feeling my freshly waxed, pussy. Damn, it is soft as silk and ready to go. But I won’t waste it on Dare. Maybe, it’s time to find my sexy Santa and give him a ride.

Grinning, I pinch my nipples with my free hand and let go, half-hoping Dare will hear my satisfied moans as I take care of my own business.

When I finally venture downstairs after a long shower, I feel refreshed but in desperate need of coffee.

“Ooh, hello!” I bend down, stroking the soft fur of the mama cat nestling her babies in the box on top of fresh blankets. My bitterness wants to relent just a bit because as much of an arrogant ass he can be he definitely has a soft spot. The large den is silent. The board games we played all stacked neatly and put away. The blankets are all folded. The pillows fluffed. The cozy, intimate scene that unfolded the night before has been erased. Like it never happened. Sighing, I move to the window.

Will my stupid heart ever learn?

My eyes are overwhelmed by the beauty outside. White, fresh snow as far as I can see blankets every direction. Some of it clinging to giant evergreens across the fields.

Letting the curtain fall back, I walk on light feet to the kitchen. It’s empty but a full pot of coffee is still on next to the pot is a note written in crisp, bold writing. It’s from Dare telling me he went into town.

I’m half disappointed, half relieved that I won’t have to face him yet. After fixing myself a cup, I check on the kittens and go back up to my room to get my leather journal. I have the entire inn to myself and I decide to explore the large, old rooms; really appreciating the cozy furnishings and bold artwork on the walls. One in particular catches my eye, it’s autumn here at the Maple Tree. I recognize the orchard trees I gazer at from the window in my room. But in fall, they blaze with fire as the setting sun’s rays reflect from the turning leaves. Whoever painted it captured the scene perfectly.

With a sigh, I move back into the main room where the cats still slumber by the fire. I place a few more logs on and settle into a cozy chair by a window. In no time, I’m lost weaving words together on a page; sewing the seams of a story. Hours roll by as I write the movie in my mind down by pen.

I write past the cramp in my hands. Past the need for more coffee. The mama cat leaves her litter to twine around my legs. But I can’t stop to pet her, if I do, I’ll lose the words.

Whoosh.

A set of paws lands on my page. A blinking pair of green eyes stare up at mine.

“Fine. You win.” I blow a lock of hair from my eyes as the cat tries to communicate with me.

“Do you need to go out?” My fingers scratch the top of her head. I take her “meow” as a yes and reluctantly leave my chair, stretching my arms wide as I do. She follows me to the mudroom where I collect my coat and stuff my feet into warm boots.

Looking down as the cat, trots between my feet I miss the fact that he’s home until I open the back door, colliding into his chest.

“…ooff. Watch where you’re going!” I straighten out, poking my finger into his chest.

“I was. You weren’t.”

“Whatever,” I grumble, moving past him, almost falling knee-deep into a bank of snow.

“What are you doing?” He turns, his handsome face wearing the ghost of a smirk.

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