Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“I can do many things at once,” I whisper, lowering my head slowly towards hers. “I speak poor English, but I am multitalented.”
Her eyes fill with heat as I claim her mouth for my own. Her lips soften immediately beneath mine. I set my glass on the counter as I hasten to pull her body against mine. As I kiss her again, her hands are already full of my short hair.
Last night I was gentle. There are moments for caution, and moments for certainty.
This is the second kind. I bend my knees and scoop her up into my arms, lifting her to the counter. It is better now—she doesn’t have to lift her chin to kiss me. I brace a hand at her knee and deepen our kisses.
Her dark eyes flash, and she whimpers for me. And now we are speaking the same language. Her knees are clamped at my hips, and her hands are working the buttons of my shirt. She works fast. As the two halves of the shirt separate, warm hands find my chest.
This is wonderful. This is everything. But I do not want to get naked in my kitchen. If we are doing this, I want to do it right. “You know what is good about a studio?” I ask between kisses. “The bed is very near.”
“Brilliant,” she pants. “Take me there.” She holds out a hand, as if I might pluck her down. But I pick her up instead. She gives a squeal as I carry her around the kitchen counter toward the back of my flat.
The bed is a big, soft expanse for me to toss her into the center. She laughs, lying back on the quilt, and I run my hands up her thighs, under her dress, as I climb up to join her.
“Let’s not waste any more time,” she says.
“If you say so.” I tug her dress right over her head, and she laughs in surprise as she kicks off her tights.
Then I’m not laughing, though. One look at Chiara’s red lace lingerie, and I’m letting out a string of Finnish curses. “This is much better than Santa Goat,” I whisper, dipping down to lick my way across her chest, just above the see-through bra. But I need more, so I tip the cups down and begin sucking eagerly on her dark nipples.
Chiara makes the most delicious noises. “Ahh. You. Yessss. Naked more.”
She isn’t speaking English either now. I take it as a good sign. I kiss my way down her belly, part her bare thighs. I stop to part her legs and place a hot kiss right over the lace panties.
“Oh, Ivo. Yes.” Her body undulates with excitement. “But I was talking about you. Too many clothes.”
But I’m not listening. I kiss the skin of her inner thighs, and tease my thumb over her hot center. I take my time with this sweet torture.
“Naughty, naughty man,” she pants as I draw it out.
“Some things cannot be rushed. Pizza, and this.” She laughs, and I use the distraction to draw her panties off.
And then I finally get the best Christmas treat of all. When I lean in again to pleasure her, she tugs on my short hair and sobs my name.
Lucky indeed.
Best Christmas ever.
THE END
Thank you for reading Sarina’s story! If you enjoyed your visit with the men and women of Brooklyn Hockey, you can find the whole series of standalones right here.
Or download another free Bruisers story, Training Camp, on Sarina’s Website.
A special thank you to Janna Vanhanen for proofing the Finnish aspects of this story, and to Claudia Fosca Stahl for her editing!
Holidays have always been my favorite time of year. For all the obvious reasons, in that the snow makes Olympus feel like another world entirely, and there’s something almost out of time about the little rituals and customs we indulge in as a people, but for the subtler reasons as well.
It’s the only time of year my mother can be coaxed into taking time off. Even after she became Demeter and everything else changed, the quiet time with our family in the country during the holidays didn’t. That week at the end of the year when time ceases to have meaning and there’s nowhere to be... It’s magic.
I want to gift that magic to my husband.
The man in question stands at the window overlooking the grounds, his hands clasped loosely at his back. He’s got that distant expression on his face that he seems to wear so often since we found out I was pregnant. It’s only gotten stronger now that we know it’s twins.
We’ve been married less than a year, and have already gone through so much. If the last few months are anything to go by, there’s more on the horizon.
Worse.
I shake my head. I already spend so much time strategizing and planning. I want to do it for a fun reason for once. The world will keep on spinning, regardless of what happens in Olympus, but I refuse to miss this time with my family. With Hades.