It’s the 21st Day of Blissemas and we’re having a big ol’snog up to celebrate.
I’m featuring a kiss from A Blisse Christmas Collection and from a little story called Christmas Cake.
I love Christmas cake and bake my own every year (I use Delia Smith’s recipe, it’s a cracker) and I enjoy it’s deep, treacled fruity goodness at the season of goodwill.
Christmas cake is about Emily , she runs a little bakery. She’s a widow and has lost touch with the joy of the festive season that is until Jim arrives and sets about bringing back her Christmas Spirit!
“Goodnight, Emily. Sweet dreams,” he replies and the room goes quiet, not silent as I can hear my own breath and the dull tick-tock of the alarm clock. I close my eyes and attempt to sleep, it should be easy. I’m tired and it’s well past midnight, but like a child I find sleep just will not come. I close my eyes tighter and will myself to sleep, like I did when I was little and worried that Santa would not come if I didn’t sleep. But I just can’t nod off and now I’m uncomfortable.
The more I try to relax the more it seems to irritate me. I can’t lie like this anymore. I’ll have to roll over. It’ll be okay, Jim will be asleep by now surely and a new position might just be all I need to drop off.
I turn over and end up nose to nose with Jim, but before I can apologise he moves his hand to rest on my hip. His head tips and he presses his lips to mine. My mind goes blank. The apology is wiped away by the insistence of his kiss and the weight of his fingers as they lie on my hip. I push my hand out and rest it in the hair of his chest. I trace my fingers through the springy forest and the gurgling groan it elicits thrills through my body like electricity through an open circuit.
I don’t know if I moved closer to him or vice versa or if we were pulled together, but my arm moves up and over to his shoulder as his chest presses up against my own. His hair tickles me through the light nightdress and my breath catches at the back of my throat. His lips slip down from mine and trail across my cheek and over my chin, dipping down onto my neck, and every fibre screams, wanting more. It’s like I’ve been lost in the desert and I’ve trickled the first drop of water onto my parched tongue, wetting it and making it thirsty for more.
“What, what are we doing, Jim?” I gasp as he nibbles on the place where my neck and collarbone meet.
“Making love.” He purrs, pulling his hand up and taking a fistful of nightdress with it.
Now Authors, I’d love you to join in with your own festive snog. Just post one up on your blog and enter the details in the linky form below and bingo!
Blissemas Followers, comment on ANY of the Blissemas Kissmas blogs today to get your entry in the Big Blissemas Pick a Prize draw where you coud win an eReader or $100 to spend on books!