His Christmas Surprise

by Harper, Grace

  The registrar would have to find another venue and the guests would have to eat in the pub. Not something that easy to organise on Christmas Eve. Which was why they had it at the house in the first place.

  I’d got dressed before I’d come into my old bedroom, the thought of having a woman in my bed was too tempting if I were still in pyjama bottoms. It was getting cold in the room, her hot water bottle was encouraging me to get under the covers.

  “Jesus, fuck, it’s cold in this house,” she said, rushing back in not looking in my direction. The sleeves of her t-shirt were over her hands. Bronwyn twisted the metal doorknob to close the bedroom door without getting her hands cold. She took one step towards the bed and stopped still. A salacious grin swept over her mouth.

  “Comfy?” she asked, hopping on each leg in the middle of my worn rug, halfway between the door and the bed.

  “I had to get in, my feet were freezing. I have left the hot water bottle on your side.”

  “My side?”

  “Well, the side you last vacated, technically that’s my side.”

  She came nearer the bed, her eyes darting to each side, sliding into the empty side and groaned. I’d put the cover back over the sandwiches to keep them warm while she had left the room. I lifted the tray off my lap to stop the teapot from spilling its contents while she settled in. I’d forgotten how bouncy my old bed was.

  Which lead me straight back to Bronwyn and sex.

  She didn’t want a one-night stand, and I needed to leave straight after the wedding on an assignment. I hadn’t told her that. I shouldn’t need to, we’d only met a few days ago, but I felt guilty keeping it from her.

  “Ready for food?” I asked once the duvet was under her arms.

  “Yep, hand it over.”

  I watched with sheer bemusement at Bronwyn’s groans of delight as she devoured her sandwiches. To hear her moan, you’d think there was someone under the covers giving her an orgasm. It made me think of sex with Bronwyn.

  Again.

  Everything centred on my desire for this woman and her vow that she didn’t want a quick fling. It made her all the more alluring.

  “Aren’t you going to eat yours,” she said, inching her hand halfway towards my plate. I casually pulled the tray out of her reach. I wasn’t that chivalrous.

  “I’m happy to go and make you another, but this one is mine.”

  Bronwyn folded her arms under her breasts, and I let out a groan of my own. Her nipples had peaked at some stage and were poking the fabric of the t-shirt and pyjama top.

  I ate my sandwich and closed my eyes, banging my head against the headboard of the bed, trying to think of random objects that didn’t remind me of Bronwyn’s naked body.

  “It’s good isn’t it, you make a mean sandwich,” she said.

  “Delicious,” I replied. “What do we need to do today?” I needed to change the subject.

  “I have to call Mollie and let her know her cake will be ready despite us being snowed in. Then once she’s calmed down, I’ll need to call Eloise, Cassie and Jolene, to get them to go to my flat to pick up my dress in case I don’t get back in time to shower and change for the wedding.”

  “I see,” I said, placing the tray on the floor next to the bed.

  Bronwyn hugged her hot water bottle and gave me the side-eye.

  “What does I see mean?”

  “There’s no phone signal, and the phone lines are down.”

  “How are you going to submit your story?”

  That’s her first concern? My job? She is something else.

  “I think the wedding is more important.”

  “They can walk here if needed, it’s not that far. This is Mollie, we’re talking about. Nothing, and I mean nothing is going to stop her from marrying Charlie tomorrow. Even if she has to sweet-talk one of his friends to fly them up the hill in a helicopter and they zip cord down onto the roof with the registrar strapped to her back. They’re getting married.”

  “Wow, Mollie is a force to be reckoned with. I’m sorry that I didn’t make an effort to meet her sooner.”

  “Why is that? Why haven’t you been back here to meet her?”

  “My job, I guess. I managed to come back often to see Great Uncle Cadwyn but not much time for anything else. There was always a flight booked for me to go somewhere. Never in one place long enough to say hello, really.”

  “That’s a shame. You’re going to love Mollie and all the other bridesmaids.”

  “I quite like this bridesmaid,” I said, moving my hand towards her hot water bottle.

  “Oh no, you don’t, I couldn’t have your bacon sandwich, you can’t have this hottie.”

  I reached for it, but I was too slow, Bronwyn took it on the other side of her legs and rested her bum cheek on it.

  “I want the hottie,” I said, not referring to the hot water bottle in the slightest.

  As I went to grab it, she hurled it across the room out of either of our reaches. My hand grabbed her thigh. The grip was hard because I was in for a battle of the hot water bottle and was prepared to wrestle her for it. Her laughter rang out at her triumph of not surrendering. Somehow, in my fight, I’d ended up prone across her body, my hand clutching her leg and my mouth an inch away from hers. In seconds, her laughter halted, with her breathing turning shallow as she swallowed slowly and deliberately. Her mouth open, just enough for her to lick her bottom lip.

  “Am I crushing you?” I whispered.

  She shook her head, pressing her lips together.

  “I still want the hottie.”

  This time she understood my reference, shifting on the bed so that she was lying flat on her back, her left leg hooking over mine, loosening my hand on her thigh. My mouth watered at the intensity switch of a fun game, to full-on excitement and attraction to this stranger in my bed, fitting perfectly under me.

  Inching down, I tilted my head to get the perfect angle to cover her mouth with mine. Nothing was going to be chaste about this kiss. It was bone-melting, heating us up as she stretched her mouth wide to get a deeper connection. My tongue barely touched hers, this was all about lips in sync while I massaged her breasts. Something was thrilling as feeling up a gorgeous women’s breasts over her clothes in my old bedroom. At any moment, I expected my uncle to come into the room to yell at me for having a girl upstairs.

  I threaded our hands, stretching them above her head as I kissed her neck. She replied by hooking both her ankles together at the base of my back and tilting her hips up to my erection. We were passionate and chaste at the same time. Neither one of us making a move to undress the other. It was refreshing to take my time, kiss a girl without any hurry. I heard one of the pillow’s dull landing on the carpet. Nothing sounded like it had broken as I carried on kissing her smooth skin.

  Bronwyn was flushed, and she was panting when I broke the kiss but clambered for my mouth, seeking it out with her eyes closed. She was as passionate about our kiss tonight as she was under the lamp post when I first met her six days ago.

  It felt like I’d known her for years. The comfortable silences, the jokes and laughter. Now we had sizzling chemistry, and I didn’t want to ruin it by taking off her top to suck on her nipples. Her hand shook free of mine and snaked its way down to my arse cheek, holding me in place while she rubbed her crotch against my hard as steel, cock. She kissed me, plunging her tongue into my mouth, biting on my bottom lip while she bucked against me. Bronwyn wouldn’t let me move, forcing me to stay in one place while she moaned her pleasure through perfectly timed gyrations.

  “You need some relief?” I asked her when she stopped kissing me.

  “So bad, you make me crazy mad with your kisses, I’m so near to having an orgasm.”

  Bronwyn breathed heavily, pushing her chest up to mine when she took a long breath in.

  “I don’t want to have sex like this with you. I want to make it special, take you to dinner, drink fine wine, walk you home and then strip you out of the amazing dress
. I’ll hope you’ll wear,” I said.

  “I want that too, but I could cry I’m so close.”

  “Will you let me?”

  “No sex, not until we’ve dressed up and had dinner, maybe a bit of dancing too?”

  “I promise we will have a date before we have sex.”

  “Then, yes, please make me come.”

  It sounded like she was begging me to stop withholding her orgasm, and I didn’t like it. I’d happily watch her make herself come, I’d be right up close and personal to her pussy while her fingers played with her clit. She didn’t need my permission.

  “Your wish is my command.”

  I pulled my body to her side, sideways, facing her, hooking my foot over her ankle to widen her legs. Slipping an arm under her neck, I brought her head against my shoulder, her mouth close enough to mine to kiss. She was going to stay clothed for this. I only wanted to see her naked after our date. I was yet to figure out when that would be, but it would need to be soon. Taking the end of the drawstring of the pyjama bottoms, I tugged until the bow pulled free and the waistband was loose. I pushed her top up a couple of inches so her belly button was on display and circled around the dip. She had a belly button I wanted to stick my tongue into but that would wait for another night. I skirted the edge of the pyjama bottoms, inching my way underneath, careful not to lower them too far. Once I found her hairline, I stopped watching what my hands were doing and looked into Bronwyn’s brown eyes. It was the most important thing in the world right at that moment that I watched as she came. I pushed my fingers through her hair, over her pussy lips and then dragged them back past where I wanted to push my fingers inside her then back to her clit. Bronwyn bucked at my touch, hissed out her reaction and clamped her mouth on mine in a hard kiss. She grabbed the back of my head digging her nails in the soft flesh.

  “My God, Dean, I’m going to explode.”

  I thrust two fingers inside her, they were slick wet. My thumb slipped over her clit as I gently rubbed in a slow circle. Bronwyn yanked her head away from me, opened her mouth wide and let out a silent cry as her pussy walls grabbed my fingers in a tight grip of spasms. I was hoping she was a screamer when she came. But now, as she was falling apart at my hands, her quiet reaction was far more intimate than I ever imagined that would be.

  The ripples carried on as I continued to rub her clit. I would stay in this position until she rode out her orgasm. I could have watched her cheeks flush and the perfect round pout her lips made every night if she would let me. I was besotted at her openness.

  “I felt that release in every part of my body. I thought I was going to get cramp in my toes, I scrunched them so hard.”

  I couldn’t wait to repeat the event with my cock deep inside her. My hips flush with hers as I rode to my high with her. I had to figure out what I was going to do to make sure Bronwyn, and I was more than a one-night stand.

  Chapter 8

  Bronwyn

  Friday – One day until Mollie gets married

  The wedding ceremony was happening in twenty-four hours, and I hadn’t assembled or decorated Mollie’s cake. The snow had steadily fallen all morning, adding fresh layers to the already frozen snow that had swept in overnight. The animals must have snow blindness and be forever lost in the surrounding woods with the meter high drifts. With my mug of hot chocolate hugged to my chest, I read Dean’s report on a Kenyan school. It was heartbreaking to the point I was so angry I couldn’t think to take a sip of my decadently made cup of cocoa. Yet, I couldn’t let it go, which lead on to fury at my two-faced attitude.

  “I think you should stop reading it,” Dean said, taking my mug from my hands. He unclamped each finger and placed the cup on a mat next to the laptop, still within reaching distance.

  “I will drink it,” I replied, eyeing the suspicious mug, threatening my morals.

  “It’s stone cold, and you’re crying.”

  I touched my face, the wetness coating my cheeks without me realising.

  “The life that those young girls lead is harrowing, their mothers encouraging them to sleep with men old enough to be their fathers is just awful.”

  “Not all the school kids have that life, there are some fortunate enough to live in on school grounds and are kept away from that option. The pressure on the daughters to marry well is immense, especially if there is a big family. Some of those girls are products of the same situation their mothers were in.”

  “I want to fly over there and bring them home here, look after the girls, give them an education. They need to know they have more than one option.”

  “A lot of them don’t, and that is the sadness about it all. The authorities are just as corrupt and turn a blind eye. Anyone looking too deeply into it gets stern treatment from the local police.”

  “Like you?”

  “I’ve spent a night or two in a jail cell, but that’s it. Part of the job.”

  “It’s so dangerous, why do you risk so much?”

  “Because the story needs to be told, awareness is key to making their lives more habitable.”

  I dropped my head into my hands, quietly sobbing at the thought of me as a fourteen-year-old, being told to dress up to go and flirt with the older men to get them to sleep with me. It didn’t bear thinking about. I was far too young at that age to start thinking about having sex, let alone sleeping around for the meals on my table.

  Dean took me in his arms and closed the lid of the laptop. He cuddled me until I stopped sniffling, and my breathing evened out.

  “I’d better go and make Mollie’s cake, it will take my mind off what you’ve written. Which is excellent by the way. You write so well I can almost smell the sea air and see ramshackle houses.”

  “Thank you. If I submit the article, it is possible I won’t be allowed back into Kenya or maybe any of the African countries.”

  “Would that be so bad?”

  He frowned like he’d never thought of that aspect. Instead of answering, he took my hand to take me through to the kitchen. While I had immersed myself in his story, he’d been busy in the kitchen. Draught excluders were at the foot of the doors, blankets up at the windows and he’d rigged up a giant lamp above the central worktop. My box of cake decorating implements was on a stool and next to it, another stool with a cushion attached by silver duct tape. On the third stool was a hot water bottle. A red robot that had seen better days lay flat on the tall stool waiting to be hugged.

  “Sit down,” Dean said, pointing to the stool. “I have a belt that can attach the hot water bottle to your torso and it shouldn’t hinder you too much, it isn’t that big. Lift up your jumper.”

  “Your jumper.”

  “Lift the damn thing up,” he said.

  I lifted up my t-shirt stolen from his drawer and jumper at the same time and flashed him my boobs. He lurched for me, latching onto my breast with his mouth, sucking hard, taking me by surprise. He bit the hardened nipple and then kissed it better.

  “Unexpected,” I said.

  I was out of breath.

  “Not when you flash me a set of perfect breasts, I’m going to want to kiss them. Try not to do that unless you want to be manhandled by a teenager stuck in a man’s body.”

  I grinned at his comment and pulled down the shirt, keeping the jumper raised to my chin. He attached the robot hot water bottle with the belt and buckled me up. Dropping the jumper, my stomach now looked like I was six months pregnant.

  Dean nodded once, retaking my hand and pulled me to my workstation.

  “Now, what else do you need?”

  “Just the other box you brought in when I arrived and the cakes themselves.”

  He retrieved the cakes from the pantry. It took a couple of trips as he didn’t want to carry more than one cake at a time in case he dropped them. I settled on the comfy stool after I’d prepared the dishes with the ingredients for the icing. My thumb blister had stayed the same size, but the swelling and pain had all but gone. Still painful to press on but ea
sed enough that I could get to work making the rose petals.

  “How many do you need to make?”

  “One thousand, eight hundred and twenty-three.”

  I rolled out the icing on the countertop, mentally working out the measurements for the three cakes. It was far more than they needed for the forty guests coming to the wedding. The cake was more for the evening guests where there would be close to two hundred people piling into the community centre tomorrow evening.

  “How many petals?”

  I’d forgotten what I’d said to make him ask me that, it was at least twenty minutes since he last spoke.

  “A lot. How are you with a scalpel? Do you have a steady hand?”

  He was looking at me and then at the stacks of blocks of icing next to me. They were wrapped in cling film the same size as bricks.

  “I can’t help you. This requires a skill I don’t possess. Fuck, eighteen hundred petals? I feel so bad keeping you talking all morning. We could have left the warmth of the bed long before we did.”

  “Three times I tried to leave, I think you’ll find.”

  I aimed my scalpel in his direction. His eyes widened at the assessment of all the icing and implements.

  “You should have said something. I would have let you go if I knew how much work you had to do.”

  “Relax, Dean, you’ll give yourself a heart attack. It’s just a cake. I’ll get it done, I always do, it’s not like I can go anywhere. There’s only you to distract me and the freezing cold. That should keep me alert to be fair.”

  “I wish there were a fire in here, I could light it to keep you warm. I had no idea you needed to be in here so long, I only have one hot water bottle.”

  “Dean,” I bellowed. “Come here,” I barked at him.

  Like a puppy, he rounded the kitchen counter. He’d been pacing on the other side of the kitchen. The bench had to be twelve feet by six feet and took half a minute to get to me. Standing with his hands in his pockets at my side, I turned to face him. Hooking the heel of my shoes at his calf, I encouraged him forward, so he was in the gap in between my open legs. Once he was near as he could be, I crossed my ankles behind his calves and hugged him. My ear pressed against chest, his jumper warming up that side of my face. I loved that he was so distraught about the length of time it would take to decorate the cake. He was adorable when he thought he’d delayed me. I could have stayed in bed all day and finished the cake this evening and still be asleep at a reasonable time. I was a professional and could work at speed. What he didn’t know was, I’d already made fifteen hundred petals and had assembled the rose type flowers. They were in boxes by the back door. I needed them to stay cool.