Chapter 11 Cozy Cot for Two
COZY COT FOR TWO
HOLDEN
My Chef Lilah fantasy unlocked the minute she slid the white coat down her arms. Underneath, her body revealed itself in a tight red sweater and black leggings, soft and curvy, every bit to my liking.
“Hell yes, Frosty, get in here.” I flung my sheet back and patted my stomach.
She climbed on top of me, and I forgot how to breathe. The cashmere brushed my bare skin. Every nerve I possessed fired off in response. Her legs bracketed my hips. I made no apology for my cock growing between us.
She settled with her cheek on my chest as if it were the most natural thing in the world. My arms wound around her, pulling the sheet and a blanket over us.
“Comfy?” I tried sounding casual, caressing her back.
Inside, I was anything but. My spirit roared to life, thrilled like hitting the lottery, the best Christmas Day ever, my perfect birthday present, and winning the Olympics all rolled into one.
I’d slept with my share of women. None of them had crawled into a cot in a blizzard and made my heart pound like this.
“You’re really hot.” Her breath warmed my chest.
“Thanks. To clarify, do you mean my body temperature or my overall manly vibe?”
“Both. Try harder to be humble.”
“Too late.”
She huffed a laugh. Feathery breath slid across my skin, forcing goosebumps to the surface in a way that should’ve been lethal.
I smoothed my hand over her back in slow circles. She melted a little more, relaxing her weight fully on me, like she finally let go of all the tension she’d been carrying for years.
She shifted her hips—that tiny, innocent move that was absolutely not tiny or innocent to my very wakened cock. The cot groaned under us.
“Um. I’m seriously questioning the structural integrity of this cot,” she worried.
“The cot is fine. I checked the weight limit.” I lied.
The creaky thing gave its own response.
She lifted her head, narrowing her eyes. “That doesn’t inspire confidence, Mr. Snowman.”
“I’ll have you know I oversaw every inch of this place. Approved the purchase of every piece of furniture. Nothing but quality here.”
Her gaze dropped to my mouth and stayed there. Outside, the storm might have raged, but it faded like everything else until it was just her and me and the thud of my heart under her.
“This is nice,” she whispered. I shifted a lock of her hair behind her ear.
“It is. I’m good like this, snuggling, if that’s all you need,” I offered, trying to be respectful, even though every cell in my body screamed to have myself a merry little Christmas inside of her.
“That’s kind of the problem. Words from your mouth are directly contradicting what’s going on down there.” She pushed up, braced her hands on my chest, and repositioned on me. I swallowed a groan. Her pink mouth, cheeks flushed, eyes dark and sharp, sent my cock twitching to its own beat of music.
“This could be a terrible idea,” she whispered.
“You’re the one who brought up having a fling. It could be the best idea ever.”
“What happens when the staff returns and everything goes back to normal though?”
I lifted a shoulder. “We remember we’re adults who made a choice to keep each other company stranded here in the storm. In a few days, if you want to pretend it never happened, I’ll pretend right along with you. If you want to acknowledge it, I’ll follow your lead. And if you want more…”
Her throat worked, and she arched a brow. “More? That assumes I have a good time tonight.”
I didn’t shy away from the challenge. “Only one way to prove you would, Frosty.”
She hesitated again. “Well, it has been a while since I did something just because it was fun.”
“Christmas is a good time to start.”
She bit her bottom lip and stared at my lips again for one heartbeat.
Two. Three. I waited for her to make the move, to be sure this was what she wanted.
When she finally leaned in, the slide of her lips over mine was just the warm-up.
I pressed closer—tilting my head, tasting a little more of her sweet mouth, my hand cupping the back of her neck.
She made a tiny sound in her throat that fried every one of my remaining brain cells.
“Holden,” she whimpered against my mouth.
“Yeah?” I murmured.
“Stop being careful. I’m in. I want this.”
“Finally,” I breathed. The kiss went from sweet to hungry in seconds. She moved against me, rolling her hips, making me painfully harder, my balls swelling by the second.
The cot creaked. We ignored it.
Her mouth opened, her tongue met mine, and that locked away part of me that had been dreaming of her since Ibiza lit up on fire. This wasn’t fantasy anymore, but the real Lilah, in my arms, kissing me like she, too, had wanted this for so long.
I dragged my lips from her mouth to her jaw, and down the delicate line of her throat. Her pulse fluttered against my tongue. My hand rested lightly at the base of her neck, thumb just under her chin—a gentle bracket, nothing rough. Possessive enough that she sucked in a breath.
“Is this okay?” I asked to be sure.
“Yes, more.” Her words came out like a plea.
“Anything you want, Frosty.” My brain shorted when she tore off her sweater, tossing it aside, leaving only the view of her braless, pink-nippled breasts.
“You always cook without a bra on? Not complaining, by the way.” My eyes flicked right and left, trying to choose which to please first. If I’d known this view was under her coat all day, I’d have worked harder to get us here faster.
She chuckled. “The wire was bugging me mid-afternoon. Then I thought, take it off, since no one is around.”
“I was around. Are you saying I’m no—”
“Shh. Can’t you just be happy and thank me that there’s one less piece of clothing to remove?” She smirked.
“Thank you so fucking much.” I inhaled one beautiful tit and licked and sucked and teased the nipple until she squirmed and whimpered. On the other, I repeated. Her breaths came faster, little stuttered sounds that went straight to my head as I sucked her nipples to perfect peaks.
My hands skimmed down her sides, over the curves of her ass, feeling every line of her body through her leggings. Her fingers dug into my shoulders as she rocked her core against me, searching for friction—until the cot let out a protesting screech that sounded like a dying bird.
We froze in place. I released her nipple with a pop.
“Is that a normal sound?” she asked.
“Define normal for a cot,” I said.
Another shift. Another loud groan from the metal beneath us.
She snorted. “If this thing collapses—”
One second we were horizontally supported. The next, the legs buckled and we dropped a foot with a loud crash, the frame folding in on itself.
“Ugh.” I hit the floor first, cushioning her. She landed sprawled over me, hair in my face, sheet tangled around our legs.
We both burst out laughing.
“Oh my God,” she gasped, breathless. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.” Could have a sore back to ice tomorrow. Worth it though, for a night with her and whatever this was going on between us.
She pushed up, searching my face. “You didn’t break anything, did you?”
“Only the cot. But it’s replaceable.”
Her brows knitted. “Seriously, Holden. Between the fall earlier on the tree and now this—”
“Lilah. I’m fine, but thanks for caring.” To prove it, in one smooth motion, I stood with her in my arms. She yelped and grabbed my shoulders, legs automatically wrapping around my hips.
“See? Strong and able,” I said, a little smug and a whole helluva lot turned on. “Cots clearly cannot handle the two of us, but the couch can—the very sturdy and expensive leather couch.”
I carried her over and laid her down gently. I hovered over her, bracing my weight on my forearms so I wouldn’t crush her. “Now. Where were we?”
Her hands slid into my hair. “You were about to try making this the best terrible idea ever.”
“Right,” I said softly. “Only there’s no trying. I will.”
I unwrapped her like a gift I’d waited years to receive.
Merry Christmas to me. Happy birthday and Happy New Year’s too.
I took my time, pulling her leggings down and off, kissing up each thigh.
Her black lacy thong came next, my fingers skimming the straps down her legs.
I inhaled her intoxicating and alluring feminine scent as I went.
My hands and mouth were everywhere, proving exactly how much I wanted her. When I slid lower, sucking the soft inside of her thighs, her fingers threaded through my hair, and guided me right where she wanted me.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, ridiculous jingles looped—it’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas for me and joy to the fucking world—but the rest of me was focused entirely on her, on every shiver, gasp, and whispered version of my name.
I didn’t rush to see her unravel. If this brief fling was all I had with her, then I’d give her something that rewrote what Christmas meant to her. Like a Christmas Story she could tell herself over and over for the next fifty years and smile every single fucking time thinking of me.
“Hold on to me, Frosty.” She wrapped her arms and legs and I shifted to my back again. “Now come here. Straddle my face. Let me make you feel so good.”
“Mm, Holden,” she purred, moving into position.
I held her up first, giving me a perfect view of her pretty pink pussy, and a manicured landing strip awaited, torn right from the scenes of my fantasies.
“Fuck. Smother me, now.” The second I planted her on my face, my tongue sought through her folds. Her clit waited for me, a wet, hard pearl for my taking. I ravished her, fighting for breath, never letting up. She whimpered for more, biting her lips, as if holding back.
“You forget we’re alone? No one can hear you, baby. Scream, shout, cry. If you cause an avalanche and we die here having sex, we’ll die in ecstasy at least.”