by CJ England
"I am, ma chérie. And I was chosen for two reasons. One, I matched your description of a real man.” He struck a pose and his eyes twinkled. “Is true ... no? Black eyes and all?"
She fought a grin. “Yeah ... you look a lot like the snowman.” Her eyes dropped involuntarily to his groin and her face burned again.
"Oui ... and I do thank you for that,” he laughed. “I was not so ... well endowed in my first life."
Jerking her hand away from him, she covered her face in mortification. “I can't believe this."
"No, no, Ami...” He grabbed her hands and held them again. “Do not be embarrassed. I am very grateful, and after our loving, I would think you would be, too."
"I refuse to talk about this anymore,” she huffed. “You might jump in and out of showers with strangers, but I don't. And just because I'm on the pill doesn't make it safe for what we did!"
"But, ma chérie ... I promise you, I cannot hurt you. That is not my way. And I told you I have not been with a woman in a very long time. My place in the sky is a lonely one."
"Lonely?"
"Oui ... when we spirits are not working, we drift in a sort of limbo. All in all, I would much rather be here ... with you."
"Okay ... let's say I buy the whole Christmas spirit thing. She rolled her eyes. “Which I'm NOT saying I do ... Let me get this straight. You are the ghost of a dead Frenchman, who has become a Christmas spirit, so you can come down to earth during the Christmas holiday to do good deeds?"
"Magnifique!” His smile lit up his face and Amy felt that warming in her stomach again. “You are exactly right.” Pulling her to him, he kissed her hard on the lips. “Now that we have that taken care of ... I am affamé ... hungry. Do you have waffles?"
She stared at him. “Waffles?” Smirking, she rolled her eyes. “Wouldn't you rather have Frosted Flakes?"
Givré frowned. “Frosted Flakes?” Then his face cleared. “You make a joke ... no?” Then he shook his head. “I have been craving waffles ... with jam and cream on top."
Amy shook her own head slowly, then suddenly freed her hands and pushed away from the table. “This is insane! I'm not making waffles."
He looked hurt. “You are not?"
"Givré ... look...” she tried to keep the frustration out of her voice. “I'm having a hard time believing any of this. Snowmen don't just come to life!"
He stood also and walked to her. “Non ... they do not.” He cradled her face in his hands. “But I am a very spécial snowman ... one brought to life just for you.” He bent and grazed her lips with his. “Remember I said there were two reasons?"
She nodded.
"I live also because of your wish ... your hope ... your kiss.” He kissed her again, more deeply this time. “Ami ... I am the real man you wanted in your life. I am here to be with you and to take you to the ball on Christmas Eve."
Any could barely breathe; her heart was pounding so hard at his touch. “And then what?"
A shadow moved in his ebony eyes. “Then ... fini How do you say ... finished. I will go back to my place in the sky."
She clutched at his wrists ... the thought of him leaving was unsettling. How crazy was that? She barely knew him. “I still can't believe this."
Givré smiled slowly and kissed her again, this time starting at her forehead and caressing each part of her face. Her eyes, her cheeks, the tip of her nose ... till finally he touched her lips with a most gentle kiss. “But you do believe. It was your belief that brought me here, ma ange. Do not let fear rob this joy from you. I belong to you for as long as you will have me.” His smoky eyes searched hers. “Will you belong to me ... as well?"
Amy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I ... I don't know. This is all happening ... so fast.” She thought again of all the reasons she should say no, but they kept getting pushed away by how much he did look like her missing snow sculpture.
He kissed her again. A deep drowning kiss that made her head spin and her knees go weak. “It is fast, sweet Ami, but it is right. Can you not feel it?"
She gave a little gurgle of laughter. The thing was ... she could feel it. She didn't know if he was a magical snowman, or an escapee from a loony bin, but there was something about him that made her feel things she'd never felt before.
"I'm probably crazy too for doing this,” she muttered softly as she wrapped her arms around his hard body. “And it doesn't mean I completely believe you ... but I'm willing to go with the flow for now."
His arms tightened. “Go ... with the ... flow?"
She giggled. “It means ... what the hell. I'll belong to you, too!"
She gasped as he lifted her against him, slanting his mouth over hers in a deep passionate kiss. “Ma amour.” Vous ne serez pas désolé,” he whispered in his own language before kissing her again.
Amy moaned and wrapped her arms around him, standing on tip-toes to press herself closer. His kiss was voracious, as if they hadn't been together just a half hour earlier.
As if he heard her thoughts, he abruptly released her, his black eyes shining with desire. “I cannot get enough of you. Je vous veux ... I want you again!"
Sweeping their coffee cups off the table with a crash, Givré lifted her to the tabletop. “If you will not give me waffles,” he growled sexily. “You must give me something else.” Pulling open the tie of her robe, he spread it around her as he pushed her back to lie on the table.
"Givré,” she gasped, but his finger touched her lips to quiet her.
"I wish to taste all of you, ma ange,” he murmured, his dark eyes caressing her face. “You will be my breakfast ... no?"
Amy swallowed hard. Lying naked on a table was another thing she'd never done before, but the heat in his eyes told her that he liked what he saw. Taking a deep breath, she leaned back and tried to relax.
Givré looked his fill. He had been too incapacitated to really see her in the shower, but his gut clenched when he saw just how beautiful she was. Her long blonde hair had fallen out of its untidy ponytail, and now streamed over her slender shoulders. Eyes, the color of the blue Nigelle flowers that he'd picked in the mountains above his home as a boy, stared up at him. “Love-in-Mist,” he whispered, remembering the English translation of the name.
He traced his finger over her high cheekbones and full red lips, then smoothed over her stubborn chin. Unable to help it, he bent and kissed her again, reveling in the taste of her. She was addicting ... just like fine French café, and she was as sinfully sweet as expensive chocolat. The kiss deepened, his tongue stroking into her mouth to dance with hers.
Breathing heavily, he broke the kiss and leaned back. “I am not done looking,” he said hoarsely. “This,” he swept a hand down her trembling body. “This beauty I missed earlier."
"Givré—” she protested.
"Non, ma ange.” He shook his head reprovingly at her. “You are très belle. And you are mine!” His hands stroked over her shoulders and down her slender, muscular limbs. He could tell she was an artist. Her arms showed her strength. He kissed each fingertip, one by one, until she squirmed on the table.
Grinning, he cupped her breasts in his hands. They weren't large, but just the right size to hold. Using his thumb, he gently caressed her nipples causing them to go pebble hard beneath his touch. She gasped his name, and he could see the desire flush her cheeks.
"So soft,” he murmured. “Like rose petals.” He moved his hands to trace them down her flat stomach to her slender, yet womanly hips. Her long legs hung over the side of the table and his body tightened in a rush as he remembered the feeling of them wrapped around him as he thrust into her.
"Ahhh, ma chérie,” he groaned. “I want to be inside of you, feeling your silk tight around me. I was never closer to heaven, than when I was loving you."
Amy's eyes filled at his words. He made her feel so special, so loved. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. “Then love me, Givré ... I want you, too."
His eyes darkened even more. “Non ...
not yet.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “I am still hungry.” Kneeling between her legs, he kissed up one thigh, and then the other. Her legs trembled wildly, but he lifted them to his own thighs. Then, capturing her gaze with his own, he kissed her naked mound.
She cried out, feeling totally exposed, yet completely safe. His eyes held hers as he began kissing and licking her, gently separating the folds of her sex to lick the moist treasure that awaited him.
His own lust threatened to overwhelm him at the scent of her arousal. He beat it back into submission as he continued to nibble and suck at Ami's nether lips. She was so soft, so smooth. There was no hair to bar his passage as he stroked his tongue between the soft, warm folds to the elixir that awaited him.
He groaned aloud. Her taste was as he knew it would be. Dark. Erotic. Sweet. Growling a little, he pushed open her thighs so he could feast more readily. She fought him, her hands going to his head, but he met her eyes, as he licked her juices from his lips. “Trust me, ma ange. Let me give you this pleasure. I wish to taste you, to lick the sweetness from your body. It will give me much pleasure as well."
Amy felt the heat swelling inside her, bringing her close to climax from his words alone. His eyes were so black, like ebony stars that burned with the fire of his need. She moaned his name, bringing his head back between her thighs, trusting him as she'd never trusted a man before.
His tongue licked up through her folds and curled around her clitoris. Her nipples prickled with need as he began to suck gently. She felt his hand smooth up her thigh and then his mouth moved away and his finger took its place, rubbing and plucking at her throbbing nubbin. His mouth moved lower, his tongue flicking back and forth between the folds as if searching ... searching.
Suddenly, his tongue stabbed deep within her dripping quim and she cried out, her hips arching off the table at the heat that shot through her. His thumb pressed against her clit and his tongue swirled inside of her, over and over again until she screamed out his name and exploded. Heat and light shot though her like an electric shock, all centered where his mouth busily sucked and caressed.
Givré groaned. Her response almost did him in. He barely had enough command of himself to hold her down on the table and continue his ministrations until she was done shuddering and crying out his name. When she finally lay still, trembling on the table, he stood and desperately pulled his sweat bottoms off. His cock stood straight upwards in its need, and her eyes widened when she saw it.
He closed his eyes and prayed for control when her hand reached out and wrapped around it. “Ami...” he rasped out. “Be careful of what you do here."
She looked at his erection with awe. “Maybe I am an artist."
He choked out a laugh and covered her hand with his. “Oui, ma chérie, but now allow me to show you another kind of art.” Gently, he kneed her legs apart and stepped between them. “Put me inside of you, Ami.” His eyes glistened with need. “Show me you wish this joining."
Amy smiled. So ... he would let her set the pace. Gently, she stroked his penis, delighting in the hard softness of him. His groan made her stomach tighten again, and she wondered just how much she could stand. Slowly, she guided the head of his cock to her opening, allowing him to just rest inside the entrance. Her whole body tightened and her heart started to pound again. Then she looked at him, seeing the barely held control in the clenched jaw and heaving chest.
"Pleasure me again, Givré,” she whispered. “Show me why the French are considered such great lovers."
Chapter Four
I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know
Make my wish come true ... All I want for Christmas ... is you
'All I Want for Christmas ... Is You'
He growled low in his throat and grabbed her legs, wrapping them around his waist. His heated eyes burned into hers as he pushed slowly into her welcoming warmth. Even though he had been inside her earlier, her body didn't easily accept his possession. He stretched her ... almost painfully, making her wonder if she could do this or not. She tensed, and he felt it, stilling immediately.
"Ma ange,” he murmured, bending low over her to buss her lips with his own. “Relax ... it is certain we fit before. You were made for me, and I for you. Remember?” He took her lips again in a deeper kiss, and felt her calm beneath him. “Bon ... bon,” he said again as he began to move inside of her. “You see, we are parfait ... perfect for each other."
He slanted his mouth over hers, his desire flaring abruptly as she moved against him. He thrust deep inside her, groaning his need into her welcoming mouth. He held her tightly against him as he continued to move in and out of her body. When she moaned his name, his thrusts became more rapid, more out of control. Reaching down, he grabbed her hips, grinding his own against hers as he felt his orgasm approaching.
He tore his mouth from her. “Come with me, my sweet Ami,” he muttered. “Fly with me, now!"
Amy's eyes flew open at his hoarsely growled command. She was so close that she ached from the need she felt. One look at the passion on his dark face and the ache intensified, sending all the feeling spiraling up through her body into her breasts, and then back down to her quim. One more hard thrust and she imploded, her body bucking against his as she came apart.
Givré didn't stop ... couldn't stop. He was out of control, pumping in and out of her with abandon. Muttering in his own lyrical tongue, he hitched one of her legs higher around his waist. He swore as the movement pushed him even deeper within her. That and the feeling of her squeezing his cock like a hot wet vise was more than he could take. With a roar, he came, jetting his seed into her with such strength that his vision grayed and his legs gave out. He slumped over her, still vibrating with the power of his climax and the emotions that surrounded it.
After it seemed like an eternity, he lifted his head and kissed the side of her neck. “I did not think it could get any better than the first ... but I was wrong, mon Ami doux."
Amy sighed. She was feeling soft and completely wonderful. She ran her hand through his damp hair. “What does that mean? That and ma ange. I love hearing you speak in French."
He leaned up and kissed the tip of her nose, his eyes caressing her face. “It means ... my sweet Ami. And ma ange means ... my angel"
She smiled. “I like that. How would I say ... my handsome Givré?"
"You wish to learn my tongue?” He grinned down at her. “You would say ... mon Givré beau."
"Mon Givré beau,” she spoke the unfamiliar words slowly. “You are, you know. Very handsome I mean."
His smile widened and he bent and kissed her again. “Does this mean I get my waffles?"
She began to giggle, and then gasped as her laughter dislodged him from her warmth. “You're still hungry?"
"Ami ... you fill my mind and my soul, but my stomach ... it is still empty."
Something sweet squeezed her heart. She didn't stop to think, but just pulled his head down to hers for a long satisfying kiss. After several long minutes, he raised his head, staring down at her with an almost hopeful expression in his dark eyes.
"Givré?” she asked. “What is it?"
His face cleared immediately. “Nothing, chérie.” He grinned and tickled her bare stomach. “I am just expiring from hunger."
Amy laughed and pushed him off of her. “All right, all right. I'll make you waffles."
He pulled her to her feet and carefully wrapped the robe back around her. “I thank you and my stomach ... it thanks you."
She was reaching up to cup his cheek when the phone rang. The answering machine immediately picked up.
"Amy? Are you there?” Sophia's angry voice pierced the intimacy of the room. “Where the fuck are you? We've been waiting for twenty minutes."
"Oh my God,” Amy gasped. “I totally forgot.” She raced to the phone. “Sophia, hi...” She grimaced as she held the receiver away from her ear. The sound of her friend's voice could easily be heard as she berated her.
"I'm sorry ... I'm so sorry.” She cringed as Sophia went on. “What happened?” Her eyes met Givré's. “Uh, well ... Dimples appeared in her cheeks. “Something came up.” She waved her hand to shush him as he burst into laughter. “No ... No ... I'm fine, but I won't be at church.” When Givré reached over and pulled her into his arms, she couldn't suppress a giggle.
"What? No ... I swear ... I'm fine. She looked up into her dark lover's eyes and what she saw made her melt inside. “I have to go, Sophia,” she whispered. “I'm going to go make some waffles."
* * * *
The following week was the most wonderful and confusing of Amy's life. She and Givré spent most of their time together. She showed him her basement studio where she designed and carved all the beautiful ice sculptures, even going so far as to make a miniature statue of him.
He said he'd been an artist in his human life. A painter who was just beginning to be known for his work when he was killed. He refused to say how he had died, just that it had been too soon, and that was why he had been given the opportunity to be reborn as a Christmas spirit. Amy saw the darkness in his eyes when he spoke of it and knew that it was a painful subject, so even though she wasn't sure she believed him or not, she didn't push any harder.
She showed him how to work in ice and was pleasantly surprised at how quickly he picked up the skill. He had a good eye and since he didn't get cold as easily as she did, he could work longer. His first effort at carving a swan was good enough to use at an upcoming wedding and when she told him so, his chest puffed out with pride.
Amy giggled. They'd celebrated his first work by making love right there in the studio. Her panties moistened as she remembered how he'd tossed her on the workbench. She could see her breath in the refrigerated studio, and when her back made contact with the cool marble, she'd shivered.
But Givré had warmed her right up. His heated body covered hers, and his black eyes had glowed when he slowly pushed his turgid length into her. They had both cried out at the feeling. Then ... as if he couldn't hold back, he pounded into her, holding her hips in place so she wouldn't fall off the high table. Amy had given as good as she got, grinding herself against him, raking his shoulders with her blunt nails. They'd climaxed together, their cries echoing off the walls of the small room.