It’s time we got back to who we are.
Which is exactly what I told Lover tonight.
*This post contains mature adult content.**
“It’s time we find ourselves together again,” she said, plaintive over the phone. “I’ve seen you every day this week, yet I still miss you.”
“It’s been a hell of a gauntlet,” he agreed emphatically, sighing as he sat down somewhere in his apartment. “Tonight, I’m all yours.”
“Let’s stay in and drink whiskey and stay away from all the crowds,” she proposed, idly browsing through dresses in her closet, clicking the hangers together as she evaluated one and then another and then another. “Come and pick me up?”
“Of course; give me a bit to shower, and I’ll be right over,” he replied, adding, “I’ve missed you, too.”
She hung up and put down her phone, staring into the abyss of clothes with a small moue of dissatisfaction. Even for a night staying in, she wanted to look good; it was a source of pride that he always appreciated the extra effort it took to put together exactly the right thing.
Then she saw it, tucked up on top of the shelf rather than hanging on the bar, a single red sleeve hanging awry. She pulled it down, reveling in the feel of the luxuriously soft fabric.
Yes, this was definitely it.
When he knocked on the door, she welcomed him in with a playful grin.
“So, am I on the naughty or the nice list?” she asked, her dark eyes sparkling as she pirouetted for his approval in a velvet red dress, complete with striped knee-high stockings and a Santa hat set askew over loose ponytails.
“Do you even need to ask?” he replied, pulling her in for a hug.
“Does this mean I get to sit on your lap?” she teased, and he shook his head, grinning as he held the door open for her.
Midtown Sacramento was fairly deserted as they drove back through the grid. After some debate, they decided to stop at Temple Coffee Roasters on K Street to try the advertised dark chocolate Midnight Mocha before hiding out for the rest of the evening. They sat at a small table by the door, she spinning effortlessly back and forth in the white egg-shaped chair while he was still, thoughtfully watching her as they discussed craft coffee and compared this drink to other holiday specials.
“I think all mochas should taste like this,” she stated, shrugging her shoulders and unimpressed.
“The chocolate is richer; that’s the difference, in comparison to their usual mocha,” he explained, ever the connoisseur. She rolled her eyes, and he laughed with her. “You should give the Mill a try again, someday.” But she shook her head firmly no as he stood up, holding out his hand.
They walked back down the street, the wintry air brisk and chilly. Moments later they arrived at his building, shivering and giggling in the elevator, hands pulling each other close as soon as the doors shut.
“I wonder if they videotape in here,” he wondered aloud.
“We should find out, sometime,” she suggested, and they exchanged knowing looks, laughing at the possibilities.
Inside they resorted to their usual routine–she kicked off her shoes and shook her hair loose while he mixed drinks in the kitchen, settling into the couch and snuggling in close, talking about the day and the week and the year, wondering where the time had gone, touching and kissing and tickling, his breath on her neck raising goosebumps all the way to her toes. His hand on her thigh moved higher, fiddling with the stiff hem of the red dress, sliding a finger under the upper band of her striped stockings as she caught her breath, moving deeper into his arms. His beard tickled as his lips found her neck, pulling her dress down to cup her breasts, tweaking her nipples as she sighed, holding on to his wide shoulders.
“Yes, I do like your dress; and, yes, it definitely lands you on the naughty list,” he admitted conversationally, winding his fingers through her thick hair as his other hand explored between her legs. She was wet and eager but he took his time, flicking her clit while she writhed and squirmed, held in check by that leash of long hair wrapped around his hand. Burying his face in the soft swells of her breasts he slipped two fingers inside her and began to work his magic, vibrating hard and deep against her clit until she cried out, arching backwards as every muscle in her body pulled taut, whispering his name over and over as he kept going, faster and faster, increasing the pressure until she suddenly sobbed, begging him to,
“Wait…please…oh god, please…wait…”
For a moment he paused, watching her catch her breath, feeling her body relax in tiny increments as her chest heaved and her thighs trembled, smeared and sticky with desire.
“One of these days, you’re going to find out what happens when you think you can’t take any more,” he promised, his voice dark with surety. He stood, bringing her up with him, and led the way to the bedroom…
‘Twas the night before Christmas
And all through the house
Not a creature was stirring
Not even…a mouse.
Need some more heat for the holidays?