A Hot Sex Story for a Cold Night
"Winter Showers," a sweet vanilla tale by Val Gryphin
Shower Fresh, by Mick Payton (prints starting at $29.25 available at ObsessionArt.com)
Amber walked carefully up the steps to Gordon’s house, navigating the chunks of ice as best as she could in her black high-heeled boots. The door wasn’t locked, so she slipped in quietly and tiptoed down the hall. Gordon was standing at the bathroom mirror struggling with his tie. When he caught sight of her reflection his face broke out in a wide grin.
“How do you like it?” She spun in a pirouette, giving him her best sexy look. In two quick strides he was in front of her, sliding his hands around her waist.
“You look wonderful, lover.” His voice was husky, and she felt a rush of moisture between her legs. “I wish we weren’t expected at the benefit. I’d much rather stay here with you.” He ran his hands down her hips, sliding down the silky black fabric to the slits that ran up high on each leg. Delicately he slid his fingers under the tops of her stockings, tugging lightly on the straps of her garters.
She kissed his cheek and whispered back, “Sorry, honey, but we are.” She leaned away from him, held tightly by his arms around her waist. She finished knotting and tightening his tie. “But there is always after.”
Gordon chuckled and released her. “I didn’t think I was going to make it out of the ER tonight because of the roads. Having you meet me here saves us about thirty minutes, though.”
“And we still have some time to spare, so we’re in good shape.” Amber glanced at the time on her cell phone. “We need to get going though. The roads really are bad, especially on the turnpike.”
Gordon nodded and started putting on his gloves. “We’ll just take our time and it shouldn’t be—”
Gordon broke off as his beeper started to sound, and Amber bit her lip. He read it, then looked up tiredly at Amber with a sigh. “Sorry babe, they need me for a little while. Do you want to go on and I’ll meet up with you when I can?”
Amber shook her head. “I’ll wait here. Without you, it’ll be boring.” She playfully stuck out her tongue and was glad to see him smile.
“Alright, but if I’m not back by eight you might as well go on home—I could end up being late.” He shrugged. “I’m sorry, babe.”
Amber smiled. “It’s okay, Gordon. Drive safe, okay? I don’t want to be visiting you there.”
He nodded and closed the door behind him.
Amber kicked off her boots and then sat down at his computer to surf the Net. Eight o’clock passed and nine approached. Finally, she got up from the computer and stretched. I wonder if I should go home. She rummaged through the kitchen cabinets and pulled out a can of chicken noodle soup. As it heated she glanced down at her dress and sighed. Might as well change.
She went into Gordon’s bedroom and carefully unzipped her dress. She let it slide down her body, over the slip, allowing it to puddle at her feet. She ran her hands down her legs, then unhooked her stockings, careful to roll them over her painted toes. She unhooked the garter belt and let it fall. She ran her hand over the front of her bright red thong, cupping her mound as she felt the heat build.
Staring in the mirror, she slipped her fingers under the fabric, rubbing, then faster. Biting her lip, she struggled to stay on her feet. She panted loudly until the orgasm knocked her to the floor with a choked scream.
She lay there a while, catching her breath. She pulled off her sopping panties and dragged herself over to the closet. She rummaged through Gordon’s clothes and pulled out a long shirt, buttoning it up just to her breasts. Pulling on a pair of his socks and boxers, she padded back out to the kitchen to retrieve her bowl of soup. She took it in the living room to watch TV. She settled down on the couch, legs curled underneath her, and watched the reports of the multi-car accidents all over the city. She glanced at the clock and saw it was almost eleven. He’s not going to be here for a while. I’ll just close my eyes for a bit.
**
“Amber.”
Gordon’s voice roused her. He was kneeling beside the couch, eyes shadowed. She could feel the cold radiating off of his coat, and he smelled of snow.
“What time is it?” She rubbed her eyes.
“Three-thirty. Why didn’t you go home?”
Swinging her legs off of the couch, she looked him over more carefully. He had left his tuxedo jacket somewhere, and his white shirt was open at his throat. His hair was rumpled and there were heavy lines of exhaustion around his mouth and eyes.
She pulled him down onto the couch and forced him to sit, then went to the kitchen to heat him a bowl of soup. When she returned to the living room, he was sitting on the edge of the couch with his head in his hands. When he heard her, he looked up and took the soup gratefully. She sat down beside him and watched as he gulped it down.
When he had finished, she set the bowl on the end table and knelt in front of him so she could look into his eyes. “What happened?” she asked gently.
“It was bad.” For a long moment Gordon was silent. “It was all bad, but the worst was a wreck just south of Exit Fourteen.” His voice grew hoarse. “Eight cars, and we got half of the victims, including the worst.” He swallowed and Amber folded his hands in her own. “There was a guy and his daughter who were in a little Subaru. Dad was DOA—completely decapitated at the scene. His daughter was about seven, and God, she was bad.” He swallowed back tears. “She kept asking about her dad, and no one could get a hold of her mom. She tried so hard to be brave, but I couldn’t save her. I lost her just after two.” He dropped his head to his hands. “And then her mom got there…”
Rising to her knees, she pulled him tightly against her body as he shook. When he finally raised his head, she ran her thumbs under his eyes, feeling the moisture. She slid her hands around his neck, then brought them down his chest and slowly unbuttoned his shirt. She pushed it back off of his shoulders and lightly pressed her lips to his chest. She ran her tongue gently over his nipples and then all the way up to his lips. He buried his face in her neck and held her tightly.
“Amber, I—”
She touched her finger to his lips and bent down to pull off his boots. Rising, she ran her hands up his legs, skimming his crotch with her thumbs as she curled her fingers into the waist of his slacks. She unfastened them and pulled open a bare patch of his belly. She kissed the hollow of his stomach, and felt his warm skin and soft, fine hairs tickle her lips.
She pulled him to his feet to slip down his slacks, then, with a kiss, she gently pushed him back down on the couch and peeled off his socks.
She slid her body up his legs and straddled him. Her crotch barely grazed his swelling erection before she took his hands and pulled him to his feet and down the hall to the bathroom.
Amber turned on the shower in his oversized tub, and the bathroom quickly filled with steam. She flipped off the light and reached over to pull open the plastic curtain covering the window in the shower. Streetlights reflected off of the snow through the foggy glass, casting a dim glow over their bodies. She bent and pulled his boxers to the floor and started to work her way back up, but Gordon pulled her up—almost roughly—and kissed her hard as he yanked the shirt she was wearing—his old shirt—over her head without even stopping to unbutton it.
As her arms came out of the sleeves, he pressed her back against the door, holding her arms over her head, and she plunged her tongue into his mouth again and again as his knee came up between her legs. His thigh pressed against her soaking patch of hair. Then she pulled away, and with an evil giggle, she threw open the bathroom window.
He gasped as the frigid air rushed over his body. “You wench!” With another laugh she stepped into the pouring stream of water and held out her hands.
The water was hot, almost to the point of being unbearable, and the freezing air nipped at whatever flesh was outside the stream of water. Her hands were all over his body, threading through his hair as he half-knelt, sucking the water off of her breasts. His hand moved between her legs, roughly rolling over her clit, and his fingers plunged inside her, emerging silky-slick to ruthlessly attack her clit again. She screamed, digging her nails sharply into his back. His body wrenched and he gasped, the cold air rough in his throat.
He kissed her, their faces under the hot water, his erection pressed into her stomach. Reaching over her head, she grabbed the window frame and braced her feet on the side of the tub. The icy air tightened her nipples to the point of pain, as his large hands reached under her to cup her ass. Then he slipped in, filling her with warmth as ice crystals formed in the back of her hair.
Over and over he plunged into her, making her burn, even the parts that were being bitten by the cold. She let out a hoarse cry as she came. Her fingers slipped as her back arched, and he caught her, held her. And then his knees gave and they slid to the bottom of the tub.
They lay there in a soft pile. Amber glanced over at Gordon, saw his eyes were closed and he was biting his lip. She slid over so she could put her arms around him and held him as he shook with sobs. She brushed his hair back, and, as she rested her cheek on his head, allowed her own tears to fall.
After a long while the water began to cool. He gave her a tired smile that she felt rather than saw. “Starting to get a little chilly now, eh?”
Amber laughed and, minding her stiff joints, uncurled herself. Stepping out of the tub, she offered a big towel to him. “Well, come and let me make you warm, then.”
Instead of wrapping the towel around his own body, he grasped it and wound it around hers so that she was cocooned in its softness. He held her against his chest. “Thank you,” he murmured.
After they dried off, she took his hand and they went into his bedroom. Gordon was asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow. Amber rose up on her elbow and ran her fingers over his lips, his face, over the softened lines. Then she lay down, curling against his chest, and slept.
Originally published November 2010