Let me call you sweetheart, I’m in love with you … I know, I know, it was Valentine’s Day two days ago, and yet I’m giving you a Christmas story for today’s snippet but Ryan and Meg are definitely sweethearts.. Ryan might be an artist, but he’s a metal worker — a modern day blacksmith if you will, and he sure is sweet on Mountie Meg. Or maybe he’s more sweet about mounting Meg…
I Need You for Christmas
Copyright © Leah Braemel 2012
[T]he glow from the slumbering embers shifted across the ceiling and into the corners of the dark room when Meg lifted herself up on one arm and peered over Ryan at the clock.
“…The ultimate feel good Christmas story…” ~ Sarah,Feeling Fictional
“I’m used to getting up around now. Did I wake you?”
“Nah, I’ve not slept much.”
Could have fooled her, he’d been so still through the night. Though come to think of it, she hadn’t heard any of that soft snore he normally did.
“I couldn’t stop thinking. About you.” His voice deepened on the last statement. “Thinking about how I wanted to kiss you.”
“I didn’t want to wake you.”
“So what’s stopping you now?” She turned until her lips touched his. Another deep drugging kiss, thoroughly ravishing her mouth, leaving no doubt that he was in charge. There was no hint of softness about him when he broke off the kiss and stared down at her.
“I love you.” Without waiting for a reply, he skated his lips down her cheek, peppering kisses down the length of her throat while his hands traced down her belly, over her hips and between the smooth skin of her thighs.
He knew just the spots that turned her muscles to goo beneath his fingers, his lips. Moans built in her throat, escaped in shuddering hitches. Her skin tingled everywhere he’d touched, small sparks that burrowed and heated her blood.
“Get on your hands and knees, Meg.” His tone reminded her of one of her instructors at the training academy.
Her blood heated, raced through her belly to pool at the juncture of her thighs. “Yes, sir.”
Heat flared in his expression. Approval of her whispered response, her immediate submission.
When she’d first met Ryan, she’d only just realized how much a guy taking charge in the bedroom was the key to her sexual satisfaction. It had been a pleasant and exciting surprise their first time making love that while he’d treated her with love and respect that he expected in return, he’d revealed an innate dominance. It wasn’t that he was a capital-D dom, nor was he into all the master/slave crap she heard bandied about in the news, but he’d sensed without her asking that she needed someone else to take charge of closing the proverbial bedroom door to all her worries and concerns.
Once she became a Mountie, and she took the duty for other people’s lives in her hands, the trust she had in letting go and turning all her worries over to him became like a drug.
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