by Frankie Love
“Did they hurt you?”
She laughs tightly. “Not hurt. But they weren’t exactly nice to me, and they had plans. Plans that meant I’d always be someone’s property. These guys… they were shady. Are shady. Which is why I left.”
“Hell, Cozy. That’s… horrible. Someone’s property?” I shake my head in disbelief, realizing we come from two very different worlds. “Who are these guys? That isn’t right.”
“Right or wrong never really factored into it, Whitaker.” She takes a bite of her food, her eyes off in the distance.
I hate that the night has turned so heavy so fast, but I’m also grateful she has opened up. Cozy is in trouble, and I’m glad I followed my heart by keeping her here. She needs to feel safe.
“I know people, Cozy. If someone is after you, I can stop them.”
Her eyes grow wide. “No, you can’t. They are dangerous and they are upset with me.” Her words go cold, her body tenses with fear. “Very upset with me. And I just need to get away from them. Forever.”
“Okay,” I say, reaching for her hand. “We can make that happen. You’re okay now, Cozy. You’ll be okay. I promise.”
Her fingers wrap around mine, and she holds on tight. “Why are you so good to me? We just met.”
“It doesn’t feel like it though, does it?”
She shakes her head, tears filling her green eyes. “No, it doesn’t.”
She eats her food as if she has never eaten something so good before. It makes me smile, watching her take care of herself, get some food in her that is fresh and healthy. For years I’ve been building a successful company, but never have I felt so rewarded for my efforts. Cooking Cozy a good meal is so damn satisfying, and I’m already imagining cooking her breakfast.
“How long have you been here?” I ask.
“Two weeks. I ran out of money and gas… I was stuck.”
“Or maybe you ended up right where you belonged.”
She smiles. “This cabin… it is the most picture-perfect place I’ve ever seen.” A laugh escapes her. “I walked in and thought I fell into a fairy tale.”
I look around the space, trying to see it through her eyes. I always thought the furniture needed to be updated and the three-decades-old appliances needed to be tossed, but she sees something different. She sees home.
“Why do you like it so much?” I ask, serving us both more ham and green beans.
She bites her bottom lip, as if choosing her words. “My grandma raised me in an apartment in the city, until she died when I was sixteen. But she always told me these stories of when she was little. Her parents had a little cabin out on a lake and she had the best memories of it. I lived for those stories, of camping trips and catching trout in the summer and playing in the woods in the fall. They’d spend Christmas at the cabin and she said they always picked a tree form the woods and chopped it down.”
“Is that what you did?” I ask, pointing to her little Charlie Brown tree.
“I tried,” she says with a laugh. “I may be good at cleaning and shoveling snow, but I’ve never used an axe in my life.”
“It’s cute,” I tell her. “And besides, you did it on your own. That had to feel good.”
She nods. “Yeah, the last two weeks have felt like a dream. I haven’t had time alone like this in my whole life.”
Her words hit me. “I’ve spent so much time alone, I’m over it,” I admit. “I work long hours and sometimes I wonder what for. What is the meaning of busting my butt just to go home to an empty loft to eat food from a to-go box?”
We push back from the table, dinner done. Carrying our plates to the sink, she continues the conversation. “But look at everything your hard work pays for.” She points to the pots and pans. “Everything you own is so fancy. And this food?” She shakes her head in disbelief. “You should be proud of what you’ve accomplished.”
“I am, but sitting here eating with you has been the best conversation I’ve had in years.”
She takes my plate and sets it in the sink. Then she turns to me, lowering her chin, lifting her eyes. “I feel the same way. I haven’t lived alone, but God, am I lonely.”
“Can I hug you, Cozy?”
She nods slowly, and I pull her to me in a gentle embrace. Sure, I want more, but first, I want to wrap my arms around this sweet and tender woman who has been through hell, yet doesn’t complain. She did what she had to do to survive. My chest tightens, and I’m fucking filled with emotion, the desire to take care of Cozy. Forever.
My body feels it too, and my cock twitches, my whole being consumed with need.
I step back, not wanting to offend her. My cock needs to calm the hell down.
She presses her hands to my chest. “You smell good, Whitaker. Especially for a city boy. You smell like the woods.” She runs a hand over my jaw. “And I like your stubble. You’d look good in a beard.”
I chuckle. “You trying to make me into a mountain man?”
She smiles, her eyes bright. “Maybe. And what are you planning on making me?”
I answer without hesitation. “Mine, Cozy. I plan on making you mine.”
Chapter Eight
Cozette
He pulls me to him, the way I hoped he would. Softly, yet with a need that matches my own. His lips find mine and I melt, sinking against his solid chest as his arms wrap around me tight.
The kiss is the kind I’ve dreamt about my whole life. Sparks fly and my heart beats hard and my toes curl. It’s the kind of kiss that makes the bad things I’ve seen bearable and I wonder where this man has been all my life.
He pulls back, his hands on my cheeks, looking at me with awe, with wonder, like I am not a piece of property to purchase, but instead a woman worth holding onto.
“Cozy,” he growls, the mountain man inside of him begging to come out. “You’re so damn perfect.”
“Hardly,” I whisper. “I’m not like you.”
“What do you mean?”
I lick my lips, meeting his gaze. “You’re so talented, successful… but we come from different worlds.”
“Maybe it’s time our worlds collide.” He kisses me again and I love the way it feels, the way it feels to be held by him. A real man, but not a man in control of me — a man taking care of me.
Our lips part and his tongue finds mine, and I whimper, not wanting this to ever end.
“Are you okay, Cozy?” he asks. I nod, wrapping my arms tight around his neck. “Come here,” he says, his hot breath on my ear.
With my hand in his, he leads to me to the couch, and I curl up as he tends to the fire, stoking the logs. The blaze is bright and my whole body heats up — watching him take care of the fire soothes my battered heart. The Christmas decorations on the mantle remind me that he should be furious with me for trespassing, but instead he has been nothing but sweet and kind. He’s everything I need.
He turns the music down low and returns to me, drawing me into his lap, and running his hands over my back. “You are so beautiful but your gentle heart is even more attractive.”
“And you are so handsome,” I say, my finger running along his jaw.
“I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want,” he says softy.
“I want you,” I admit.
He nods stoically. “I want you too.”
“Then why the grave face?”
He smiles, kissing me again. “I know you’ve been hurt by people, which makes this moment all the more special. You’re letting me in. I don’t want to mess it up.”
“You won’t,” I say, taking his hand and guiding it to my hips, under my sweater, showing him it’s okay to touch my bare skin — to touch me. All of me.
He lifts my sweater up, over my head, and sets it aside. He takes me in, my breasts, my collarbones, my shoulders. “Damn, Cozy,” he exhales as he reaches behind me and unclasps my bra, setting it aside. My breasts are bare, the room charged with heat.
I look down at myself, wondering how he sees me. But his soft
touch tells me everything I need to know. He caresses me with such care, with such tenderness that I find myself biting down on my lip, hard, as a moan escapes me.
He kisses my nipples, his tongue twirling around them. He massages my breasts, and I have an ache in my pussy for him. I want to touch and see and feel him. I want to know everything there is to know about Whitaker, about what moves him, what breaks him, what draws him out. I want it all.
He tugs off his flannel shirt, revealing a chest of ripped muscles. He cares for his body, he has discipline, and it turns me on — seeing so much bare skin all at once.
He lifts an eyebrow and I close my eyes, overwhelmed by his absolute maleness. His thick cock presses against his jeans and I feel so ready for the next step. The next step with him.
“I’m a virgin,” I whisper as I lean back, his fingers on the button of my jeans. He looks at me, startled.
“A virgin?”
I nod, licking my lips. “Max and Joe planned on giving me to their drug dealer because they owed him money and were short. I heard them discussing it the night I left. I was a way to repay their debt, was going to be someone’s property.”
“Fuck, Cozy.” His eyes turn dark, his jaw tenses. “Who the hell are these men? I’ll make them fucking pay.”
“They aren’t worth your anger, your time.”
“The way they treated you… Cozette, baby, fuck, I’m so sorry.” He pulls me to him, and I straddle him on the couch, my face buried in his shoulder. “I’ll make sure you never feel like that again. Like a possession.”
I lift my eyes, setting them on his. “I wouldn’t mind you owning me, right now.”
He growls, his hunger undeniable as he kisses me harder, with a primal heat, and I match it. Wanting him, this, us, now.
We undress quickly, finding our way to the carpet, beside the Christmas tree and in front of the fire, my wishes all coming true. He kisses me again, and again and again, then slides off my panties, groaning in pleasure as he takes me in.
Propping a pillow under my head, I press my lips together, unable to deny how good his cock looks. He has bared it all for me, the same way I have for him.
“Are you nervous?” he asks, cupping my pussy, his firm hand right where it belongs.
I shake my head. “I’ve been waiting for you, Whitaker. All my life.”
He growls with a hunger that makes my pussy wet, and he spreads my knees, dipping his mouth to my center. He licks me up and down and I whimper, running my hands through my hair.
“Oh, Whit, oh… oh yes,” I moan as he teases me with his mouth. My knees buckle, but he presses them down.
“There you go, baby, nice and easy.” He purrs against me, stroking me with his fingers as I begin to come undone.
My back arches as he opens me up nice and slow. My whole body tingles in anticipation as he fingers my center, my pussy so wet, dripping for him. He leans down to lick me up and I flutter my eyelashes closed, raking my fingers through his thick hair.
“OH, don’t stop,” I beg. “Please… please… ohhh…” I lose my words, my train of thought as he presses a second finger inside of me.
“OH, fuck, you’re so tight, baby. So damn tight.”
I love that no man has ever touched me before. That my body is Whitaker’s, and his alone. I want to give him pleasure, make him feel strong and powerful — because being caressed me like this makes me want to do anything and everything for this man. I never want it to end, the way I feel under his hand as he opens me up, making me beg for more, and pant in pleasure.
“There you go, now your innocence is dripping nice and good.”
I can hear how juicy I am, how ready my body is to be explored in an even deeper way. He licks me again, sending jolts of heat through me, and I gasp as he fingers me again, harder, with a purpose — to set me free.
I come hard. And moan loudly as he makes me his. My body is jelly and my mouth falls open as I moan, getting off for the first time in my life. My pussy is spread wide open, and he sucks my clit as I come, his mouth on me as I wrap my legs around him, his mouth buried tight against my pussy as the orgasm rocks through me.
He leans over me, a grin on his face. “Damn, Cozy, you sure know how to turn up the heat.”
“Was that okay?” I ask, catching my breath as he rolls on his back beside me. He takes my hand, lacing our fingers together, and my heart skips a beat.
“Cozy, it was everything,” he says. “Thank you.”
“I should be the one thanking you,” I say with a laugh.
“Look at us being so damn polite.”
I smile, turning toward him, resting a hand on his solid chest. “I like that though, how kind you are. How considerate. It’s what I want in a man… someone who is gentle and tender.” Tears prick my eyes and he draws me close.
“Shhh, it’s okay, I got you now.” He kisses my tears away, and I smile, emotions running high.
I run my hand down his chest, to his thick length, stroking him. “Maybe it’s my turn to get you.”
Chapter Nine
Whitaker
She strokes me nice and slow, and I see in her eyes the desire to please me. It makes me melt, her loving nature, her gentle heart. I want to be the man she needs, the man she wants.
And damn, my cock has never been so fucking happy. She looks at me with eagerness, and I kiss her lips. “You’re doing so good, baby. So good.”
She smiles at me and then turns her body, lowering her lips to my cock. I groan in pleasure as she opens her mouth and takes me in. Her ass is sweet and creamy, and I run my hand over her, easing her closer.
I slip my hand between her thighs, fingering her ripe pussy the way she loves, nice and slow. It seems to relax her because she begins sucking me off with a rhythm that gets me going so damn fast.
“Oh yes,” I groan as she sucks me up and down, and she moans as she takes me, so nice and good.
She loves this, I know she does because she moves her head faster, getting into the motion, and I finger her pink pussy, easing her leg over my chest, wanting her pussy on my face — right where it belongs.
She moans loudly as I lick her cunt, and she bobs her head up and down, my cock a rigid rod ready to fucking explode.
I’m close, so damn close, and I want to see what my virgin does when I come.
Fuck, my balls are tight and my come is thick, shooting from my tip, and she moans as she swallows my seed. Fuck, that’s sexy. So damn hot, and she sucks me off until there isn’t a drop left.
She’s panting, turning to me with a new light in her eyes. She understands for the first time in her life the pleasure of being sucked and licked, fondled and caressed. She’s ready to be filled up the way she wants.
I draw her onto her back, taking her hand and easing it back onto my cock. “Stroke me again,” I tell her. “Feel how hard you make me.”
She nods wordlessly, our eyes locked, our hearts pounding in the same steady beat. As one.
“I’m going to make love to you now, do you understand?”
She nods. “Please. Make me yours.”
I do as she asks, I do as I need. I ease my thick cock into her virgin hole, nice and slow. Inch by inch, not wanting to hurt this gentle soul.
“Oh, Whitaker,” she moans, biting back the pain, wrapping her arms and legs around me as if for dear life.
“I got you,” I say. And I do. I hold onto Cozy with the promise to never let go.
She’s so tight, but she drips so damn good, tastes so damn sweet. I’m not surprised — she is sugar and spice and everything nice and I could eat her every damn day. And I plan on it.
She doesn’t know it yet, but there’s no way in hell I’m letting her go.
We move as one, and I kiss her again and again. When we’re both close, we gasp, finding our hearts knitted together in ways we both needed. I don’t want her to leave my sight.
“I’ve fallen for you, Cozy,” I say as we come, her pleasure written on her face.
; “Don’t,” she whispers.
“It’s true.”
A tear slides down her cheek. “You make me feel like I could be anyone. Like I could be yours.”
“You can. And you are. I mean it, Cozy. I’m not letting you go.”
“I don’t want you to break my heart,” she says softly.
“I won’t. Let me show you.”
I draw her to me, reaching for a blanket and covering us both. In front of the fire, the snuggle is real, and we hold onto one another until we fall asleep. Dreaming of a future I never imagined — but if she’s in my arms, it’s gonna be Cozy AF.
Chapter Ten
Cozette
In the morning, I wake with a strong, muscular arm draped over me. We’re both very naked and spooning like we’ve been at it for years. The Christmas tree is still lit but the fire has burned out. Jingle Bells plays on the radio, and my cheeks hurt from smiling so much last night.
I roll over, looking at Whitaker. It happened. All of it. The two of us, making love, making promises…
But how much was real and how much was a Christmas fairy tale? A story that comes to a close sooner than I’d like?
His eyes open and he looks at me. “Merry Christmas,” he says, kissing my cheek. “Sleep okay?”
I look around, sitting up. “I don’t even remember falling asleep.”
He stands, his cock solid, and my memories of the night return. Making love several times, laughing and exploring, learning one another’s bodies like they are road maps leading us both home.
“I worked up an appetite. Can I make you breakfast?”
I nod, wrapping a blanket around me. “Sounds perfect. I can make the coffee.”
“And I’ll make the French toast.” He finds some sweats in his luggage and pulls them on, and I admit with the low-slung waistband, he looks just as good as he did naked. “Why are you staring?” he asks with a grin.
“I can’t help myself, you’re so handsome, Whitaker. I can’t believe you’re single.”