by Lucy Gage
I could’ve been embarrassed, but that wasn’t my nature. I’m a firm believer in that the naked body is beautiful and should be celebrated, not shamefully hidden away. I waved him off, then placed a hand on my hip. Leaning forward I read his nametag, pretending I didn’t recognize him on the off chance he didn’t recall me.
“Sven…How old do you think I am?”
It wasn’t the first time I’d asked him this question. His gaze took notice of my body before the intensity of it met my own.
“You could be between thirty and sixty, and it wouldn’t matter. You’d still be the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.”
Heat pooled between my legs at his words. This was wrong. Flirting with your masseuse, the man who’s about to spend the next ninety minutes with his hands rubbing all over your body. But on the other hand, this was Sven. The only man who’d given me pleasure in this century. And just like before, my body was humming just from his close proximity.
“I bet you say that to all your clients,” I teased.
His gaze darkened. He took a step forward, then continued until he reached me. A hand came to my robe covered hip. I stared up into his eyes, and just like before, I was electrified. At the same time, I was suddenly jealous of every woman who’d been patron to his services before me.
“You’re the first client I’ve taken in three years,” he admitted.
“Well, then, I hope you aren’t rusty,” I breathed, unable to take my eyes off him.
A devilish grin spread across his lips, and I inhaled sharply. There was promise in his gaze, and I knew if I let this man touch me, I’d never be the same. Hell, I still hadn’t recovered from before.
“Oh, Mrs., Montgomery, rusty has never been in my vocabulary.”
“It’s Ms. Montgomery, actually. I-I’m not married.”
I had no idea why, but for some reason, I wanted this man to know I was ripe for the taking.
Delight danced in his eyes. “You have no idea who I am, do you?”
“As if I could ever forget you.”
He gave me a small smile, and I couldn’t help but notice how his demeanor changed from playful to frowning. “You sure as hell tried. Get on the table, Ginger. Let me remind you how good I once made you feel.”
My body trembled as I lay on the table, doing as told by Sven. The anticipation of his touch was almost enough to have my nerve-endings on fire. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like when he finally did.
My mind wandered back to the first time we met at the 2002 Winter Olympics in Salt Lake City. It had been a rare occasion when Kale was a senior in high school, and I went with a girlfriend to see what all the fuss was about. It was the first time I’d been childless in seventeen years, and I had a lot of catching up to do. I’d been in the city for barely three hours before Sven swept me off my feet. I’m not ashamed to say I spent three nights in his bed. Our affair was quick, passionate, and my heart was already starting to open to him after such a short time.
And then I found out he was Sven Lindqvist, Sweden’s hot-shot alpine skier. Who was also twenty years old. I, who at thirty-five, had a son only three years younger, had utterly freaked out and fled before I could even say good-bye.
The next ninety minutes were pure bliss-filled agony. Sven did exactly as he promised. With each touch, each caress, he reminded me not only of just how good those three days had been, but how he’d turned into a man with strong hands that knew how to turn a woman to mush just through the art of massage.
We made small talk here and there, with him telling me about his career-ending injury (as if I hadn’t followed his career) and him asking about the kids (thoughtful, and made my heart squeeze a bit). For the most part, however, Sven worked in silence. Silence that made my mind race, wondering what he was thinking. What he wasn’t saying. Unspoken words hung in the air between us, and with his strong fingers working me over, I couldn’t help but let my mind wander to what might have been.
Useless, wishful thinking.
I’d just groaned from him releasing a knot in my shoulders when he broke a period of silence. “Now that the kids are out of the house, what’s the plan? Do you have a bucket list of things you want to check off?” He paused, swallowed deep, then continued. “Things we could possibly do together?”
I snorted. “Honey, my kids have been independent for over eight years now. I’ve been free to do anything I’ve wanted.”
Sven’s hands paused on the small of my back. A pity, as I’d been wondering how far he’d take this massage. My skin tingled when he was suddenly on the bed, straddling my waist. His warm body covers mine, his lips a whisper at my ear. “And in the bedroom?”
I tensed, and he immediately knew the answer. “You’ve spent your life raising three great kids, chasing adventure on your own. But when’s the last time you’ve had a man inside you? Because for me? I haven’t felt a woman’s touch in fifteen years.”
My eyes widened, but before I could answer, the timer dinged and Sven was off the bed. The loss ached more than it should have.
“I want to see you again.”
“I…”
He must’ve sensed my protest. With one strong hand curled around my neck, Sven bent over until his eyes bored into mine. “I let you go once before, Ginger, and I’ve lived in regret ever since. I’ll be damned if I do it again. You can run for now, älskling. I will always find you.”
I stood staring at the door long after he’d left. Fifteen years ago, Sven threatened to open up a part of myself that I’d closed off. Just now? The floodgates had opened, and it all came rushing out. I’d never gotten over Sven, and now that he was here? My heart didn’t stand a chance.
When I got home from the spa, it was all I could do not to blush when Kalli said I looked more relaxed than ever and I should go more often. If she only knew. To my surprise, Sven had been a complete—well almost—gentleman during the massage. His fingers traveled the curve of my breast on one occasion, and I’d moaned in pleasure. My cheeks had heated when I heard his low chuckle. Sven had me exactly where he wanted me and I’d given him every indication I’d wanted to be there, too.
But he hadn’t asked for my number. He hadn’t asked for a date. I had no idea what to think. So I decided not to think at all. I took Kalli’s advice. I put on a little black dress, with my favorite heels, fixed up my hair, and went out.
The winery was gorgeous, with a giant Christmas tree on display in the corner. Twinkling white lights strung about the room, along with the fire blazing in the fireplace, gave the place a romantic ambient lighting, and I sighed, wishing I wasn’t here alone.
“Is this seat taken?” a husky voice asked. Warm breath tickled my ear, and instead of my usual eye-roll and a quick shake of the head, tingles ran down my spine.
Startled by my physical reaction, I turned and glanced up into the most beautiful ice blue eyes I’d ever seen. Suddenly, my response made sense.
“You…” I breathed, my heartbeat quickening.
“Ja,” he confirmed in Swedish. “Yes, it’s me,
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were stalking me.”
The reflection of the firelight danced in his eyes. He lifted a hand to my cheek, brushing a lock of loose hair behind my ear. His touch was so light, yet it sent fire burning through my veins.
“You don’t.”
The tone of his voice was promising, menacing, and heavens above, it was enticing. The thought that this man would seek me out, knowing his intentions, remembering his touch, had shivers tingling all the way down to my toes.
“Why are you here, Sven?” I asked, breathlessly, his name barely a whisper.
It seemed naughty, incendiary, and almost ludicrous. A soap opera affair with a Swedish masseuse named Sven. But this was real life. I knew his touch, I knew his love, and I ran from it for so long. Now that he was here, right in front of me, I couldn’t do it any longer.
“For you.”
Sven’s lips hovered just above my ear. “I watched you for minutes before I approached you. Do you know what I saw? A beautiful woman who is exceedingly lonely. Is it true? Are you lonely, Ginger?”
I pulled back and looked up into familiar, gorgeous eyes and decided that for the first time in so long, I wanted to be honest. With him. With myself. “This time of year is always lonely for me, Sven. I love my kids, I do, but Christmastime is for lovers. I want…”
I paused, realizing Sven had pulled us off the dance floor and we were now standing near the fire, out of earshot of anyone around. “Yes, Ginger, what do you want? Your bucket list. Tell me all your wicked fantasies.”
“All?” I teased. “We’ll be here till dawn.”
He grinned. “Not that I’d complain. How about we keep them holiday themed. Give me seven days. If by Christmas morning I don’t satisfy all your cravings…”
I pressed a finger to his lips. “Don’t. I can’t.”
His eyes darkened. “Do you know how long I looked for you? How I craved you? The memory of you was all I’ve had for fifteen years, Ginger.”
“We promised. We said no last names, even if it was easy to figure yours out. We said nothing beyond that week. Nothing more than a fling.”
“You’re right. We said the whole week. But you left. The way I see it, you still owe me. And I want the clock to start over. I want that week you promised me.”
“But… my kids. They’ll be here Christmas Day.”
His hand circled my waist, and he drew me into him until I pressed against his firm chest. “Then give me till Christmas Eve.”
His thumb caressed my lower lip, and my brain went fuzzy. “I must be out of my mind, but okay, I’ll spend the week with you.”
Sven’s grin was beyond compare. “And so it begins,” he quipped, just before his mouth captured mine in a breathtaking kiss that promised seven incredible, sensual days ahead.
After a couple of more glasses of wine, and small talk around the fire, Sven rose to his feet, took my hand in his, and drove to my beach house. He held my hand in the car, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over my skin. Once we arrived, and I opened the front door, letting him in, the butterflies swarmed frantically in my belly. Like Sven, I hadn’t been with a man since him, presumably for the same reason. I was relatively inexperienced, and nearing fifty. Was I foolish, thinking this could work?
Sven must’ve read my mind because his voice filled the silence, quieting my thoughts. “So about this naughty list… What exactly do you have in mind?”
He followed me into the kitchen where I poured us each two fingers of scotch, taking a sip as I contemplated his question.
“Well…I used to enjoy making Christmas cookies when the kids were here, but over the past few years, I don’t find joy in doing it alone.”
He raised a brow. “You want to make Christmas cookies? Baby, I said fantasies.”
Heat rose in my cheeks. “I was thinking we could wear nothing but aprons.”
“And suddenly baking never seemed more appealing. I’m all in. As long as you don’t make me take anything from the oven. I’d hate to burn my bits before getting to use them.”
I laughed. “Trust me. Your…bits…will be most protected in the kitchen.
The teasing banter back and forth helped calm my nerves. It was as if there weren’t fifteen years between us. It was as if he were meant to be here.
“I’d like to spend a cold night out on the deck, sipping coffee laced with whiskey, curled up under a blanket as the Christmas lights twinkle around us.”
“I could spread you out on that blanket, cover your body with mine, and make love to you under the stars and Christmas lights, the soft sound of waves crashing off in the distance until your cries of pleasure echo in the dark.”
If possible, the pink in my cheeks darkened as the image of such an occasion rose in my head. “You’d like that, Ginger, wouldn’t you?” he asked, taking a step towards me.
I rounded the kitchen island until I was directly across from him, taking a sip of scotch to calm my beating heart.
“Yes,” I heard myself saying. “That sounds like a perfect way to celebrate the holiday.”
His answering grin was wicked. He was pleased.
“And what else?”
I contemplated for a moment, then a slow grin spread across my face. “You. In a Santa hat.”
He quirked a brow. “I’m sensing a theme here, Ginger. Shall I spend the entire week in nothing but cooking aprons, Santa hats, and whipped cream mankinis?”
My shoulders shook with laughter. God, it was so comfortable with him. Just like it always had been. How long had I missed this connection?
“Whipped cream mankini? Sounds like it’d go perfectly with a little peppermint Bailey’s. A delightful Christmas treat,” I teased.
Sven’s eyes darkened. “Ginger, I can think of absolutely nothing else then you down on your pretty knees, licking and sucking my cock until it’s completely clear of whipped cream. I’ll wrap my hands in that gorgeous red hair, tugging slightly as to cause both pleasure and a hint of pain.”
Heat pooled between my legs at that mental image. Yes, whipped cream was immediately going on the shopping list.
“Just so you know, Sven, I haven’t eaten meat in years. It would take quite the special person for me to make an exception.”
He grinned. “Although I believe I can make you change your ways, feel free to think of it like a peppermint stick. Except much,” he paused, and I couldn’t help darting my eyes to his groin, where I could already see his erection straining against his pants, “much, much thicker.”
Add candy canes to the list, as well.
“You have quite the imagination,” I replied.
“Baby, I’ve had fifteen years to think of all the ways to fuck you, make you moan, have you screaming my name until you lose your voice. That’s only the beginning.”
“Well then, it appears we have a lot of time to make up for. You said you’ve been looking for me. Well, here I am. Come,” I paused, slowly unzipping my dress, then letting it fall to the floor, “and get me.”
I’d never been shy, but I also hadn’t been brazen. Something about Sven’s imagination, and knowing we’d both waited for each other, had me wanting him to take me to bed and turn his words into actions.
“The one thing I can’t bring you is snow, baby, but I can still make it a white Christmas,” he teased, starting to walk towards me, his eyes raking over my body and making it flush with the desire I saw in them.
I rolled my eyes, slowly backing up, making him chase his prey. “That was awful,” I said, laughing.
He quickened his pace. “Treetops won’t be glistening, but you will be.”
And then he was on me, hand wrapped around my waist, the other tangled in my hair. His lips captured mine in a kiss that boiled my blood from head to toe.
It hadn’t taken long. I was already glistening. Just like he’d said.
I was breathless when Sven broke the kiss. He swore, and I looked up at him.
“Bedroom?” he asked.
My hands took hold of his tie, and I led him towards my bedroom. The anticipation of this had me suddenly ravenous. Fifteen years of pent-up desire did that to a woman. Once we were in my room, Sven scooped me up and tossed me on the bed. I watched intently as he began to undress.
Sven clothed was amazing.
Sven unclothed was glorious. His dark blond hair was mussed from removing his t-shirt, and his eyes? God, those blue eyes were dark with desire. Hunger. He was positively ravenous. As if I were the juiciest steak ever prepar
ed, and he hadn’t eaten in days. Weeks. Months. Hell, he’d confirmed it’d been years. He was tall, his body corded with lean muscle. He turned around and crossed the room to my stereo. I was greeted with the sight of the sexiest naked ass I’d ever seen. It was firm and tight, just begging for my fingernails to sink into it. He was a collection of lean muscle, hard ridges and planes, and I couldn’t wait to explore every single inch of him
After soft sounds of Christmas songs filled the room, he turned to face me. My eyes met his penetrating gaze. It unnerved me to see him looking at me with a heated tenderness I hadn’t expected.
One second Sven was across the room, staring at me. The next, I was flat on my back, pressed against the mattress with a six foot something Swedish sex god on top of me. Sven’s lips met mine in a hurried kiss, his tongue wasting no time to sink into my mouth and tangling with my own. I whimpered when he pulled away to stare down into my eyes.
“God, Ginger, I know I should go slow, make love to you this first time, but I can’t,” he admitted.
His fingers and lips were everywhere. My breasts, my pussy, everywhere in between.
“Fifteen years. Want you. So bad. I must fuck you. Be inside you.”
I arched my back, encouraging him. My need for him was just as strong. “Fuck me, Sven. Don’t go slow. I need you. I need this. Been so long,” I panted.
He readily complied. Sven straddled my waist and without preamble, plunged into my pussy with such force I nearly came on the spot.
“Oh, God. Yes, that’s it,” he grunted. “Feels so good. You feel so fucking good.”
I locked my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist, and held on for the ride.
The ride of my fucking life.
Sven rocked in and out at a furious pace, and I bucked my hips, trying to keep up with him.
Just as I could feel the wave of orgasm rising, I closed my eyes to welcome the crash into bliss.
“Open,” he growled, his cock twitching, signifying his impending release. “I want to watch you come.”
My eyes fluttered open, and not a moment too soon. My pussy tightened, his dick swelled. We both found our release simultaneously, and the expression in his eyes as he spilled into me was breathtaking. I was sure mine mirrored his. This wasn’t just a physical release; it was emotional as well.