Chapter 1: White Christmas
When she still believed in fairy tales decades ago, she dreamt of a White Christmas wrapped in the arms of her beloved. She would slowly let the chills run through her spine as she watched the snowflakes fall outside while they cuddled and made love.
So tonight, even if it was already a few days after Christmas, she considers this her official Christmas Eve with her beloved. She has patiently waited for this special occasion. Not exactly how she has seen it in her daydreams since she started dabbling in romantic poetry, but still, something that makes her feel alive.
On the outside, many of her friends have said she is a tough one to crack. No man can make her melt quickly. Probably just like the Snow Queen; even before the movie Frozen became a hit, she was known among her peers as one who won’t easily bend and break for romance. Her feelings were always in check. Duty first before desire. Work before pleasure. Faith before anything else. Perhaps she had lost faith in finding the ideal one…
The word ‘before’ had dragged on a while until she dipped her toes in Cupid’s pool. Without her realising it, time had passed so fast. Now she’s in her 40s. If this special man had not melted her heart, this could be her 20th year of celebrating the season alone.
Alone.
The most dreaded word a woman her age could endure from her culture. Thankfully, she is far away from her home country now, where relatives and friends can stay closer to celebrate together—no quizzical looks about why she had remained single. Every family reunion, every get-together with friends, she needed to politely dodge questions about why she had not committed to any man for a long time.
Does she have to tell everyone that she had a jaded childhood and that she didn’t believe marriage would last? And that she has practised the art of pleasing herself in her own terms, at her own pace, in her own time? No, she doesn’t have to.
To explain herself to everyone would feel futile because they already have this pre-conceived machismo assumption that if a woman prefers not to marry, she is the problem.
But to him, she feels she does not have to be someone else. He sees her as she is: passionately sensual, wickedly bubbly, and selflessly kind. He has opened her eyes to discover herself and to be true to what really matters – her needs and desires that make her truly unique and captivating, and yes, complete.
In that rustic cabin by the lake, she has set up the studio-type space as she had imagined it in her daydream. Soft Christmas music plays in the background. The logs crackle in the fireplace in the living room. Adjacent to the big white couch is the tree decorated with silver and white ornaments glistening amidst the warm, sparkling lights.
“Who says that Christmas is over?” she muses, smiling.
The bar has a few bottles that he likes – rum, whiskey and other alcoholic beverages that he likes to mix when he concocts spiked eggnog. The dining table for two has everything that they both enjoy to share – Caesar salad, smoked pork, mashed potatoes, sourdough bread, a claypot of pumpkin soup, roasted chestnuts, and fruitcake.
Everything looks perfect. Just like the bottle of red wine, two glasses, and candles ready by the bathtub filled with warm water, bubbled and with a chamomile scent.
*****************
His car engine’s noise pierces down the road, nearing the serene lakeside. This quiet and quaint little part of Ottawa is just perfect for him and his beloved woman. Here, he hopes that he won’t have to hide who they are to each other anymore.
The 30-kilometre drive from the airport to this cabin, which he booked a year ago, is something he really worked hard for. He could never be thankful that she finally said yes to spend a two-week vacation with him. She flew from Manila to this place despite the odds, and he must let her know how much he appreciates her.
As he drives along the snow-covered roads, he hums the tune on his Spotify playlist, the song that always reminds him of her, “The Rose of My Heart,” by Johnny Cash. It’s as if the songwriter has foreseen that he is meant to know this lady who is so attached to his soul in ways that still surprise him to this day. It has been two years since they crossed paths. Yet, it feels as if they have known each other for so long.
No one has finished his sentence the way she does. Only this wonderful being can make him feel truly seen and understood. He has stopped trying to understand how and why. All he wants now is to be with her and make love to her all through the night.
*******************
She heard the car engine stop in front of the cabin, and she straightened up her velvet black dress to welcome him into her arms. She feels heat rising to her throat. A mixture of excitement and tears. At the back of her mind, she feared he would not come. But he had never broken any promise. As he said so, he did. Now, here he is.
She leaps to the foyer and opens the door just before he knocks. Under the mistletoe is the same tall, fair-skinned, blue-eyed, fit, handsome man who made her risk everything for love. In his eyes, she has gained more weight, which still makes her Asian beauty glow on this cold afternoon. She has wavy black hair that cascades down her shoulders, and that smile, which always makes his morning beautiful when they talk on a video call, looks more enticing when they talk face-to-face.
“Merry Christmas, my Rose,” Steve greets in his soft, caring voice.
“Merry Christmas, my heart,” she replies as her knees shake.
Steve pulls Rose close, and she wraps her arms around him, and their lips touch, which starts tenderly, then hungrily and more hungrily. His hand hitches her up the hem of her black dress, and she shivers in the cold even more. They both giggle and stop.
“Misletoe,” he quips.
She answers him with another deep kiss and a grip of his hand, pulling him into the house.
“It has been a year…” she kisses him back as her hands move on his chest.
“Since we last kissed for real,” he moans into her mouth as he leads her to the couch, stumbling and falling.
“This cabin is so cozy,” she murmurs as he kisses her neck and unzips her dress, and it pools at her feet. Astonished by her voluptuous body clad in red lingerie and high stockings, he touches her cheek with the back of her hand, slowly gliding across her lips, chin, down her neck, and across her collarbones. Now he aims for her cleavage. She holds his hand to stop him while locking eyes with him.
“What?” He chuckles.
Rose reaches for the bottle of wine on the table and hands it to him to uncork it. He pours the glasses and sips through them as they caress each other on the couch. She crosses her legs, and so Steve barely answers her questions about his trip as his eyes linger on her sun-kissed body.
“How was your flight?” she asks as she takes off his red sweater.
“I can’t complain. There was a ten-minute delay, but that’s fine,” he responds as he unclasps her red lacy bra. Her plump breasts spring free.
“Worth the wait to be with me?” She bites her lower lip as he begins to caress the side of her breasts. Stopping his hand, she leans back and pours a little of the wine down her cleavage. The wine flows along her gorgeous almond curves. He swallows hard.
“So worth it,” he says in a deeper tone.
Steve hungrily moves his mouth to kiss Rose again, as she unzips his pants and touches the swelling between his legs.
“Oh, I have waited for this for so long!” Rose purrs.
He answers this with more nipple nibbling and sucking, ass grabbing and squeezing. She loves the sounds that he makes on her skin.
“Press the right keys and my body will sing our song,” she seductively whispers. Her hand pulls out his throbbing cock and begins to stroke it slowly.
“Hmmm. I always love your metaphors. And this,” His head continues to move south as his legs push his pants down the wooden floor.
Their moans blend with the crackling sound of the fireplace. His mouth traces the trail of wine on her soft skin – from her neck to her chest. He sips the red drink from her cupped breasts, engorged by the firm touch of his hands. Slow and deliberate, and then intense. His mouth latches onto her brown areola and savours its taste.
More drops of wine were poured onto her cleavage, now rolling down her tummy, seeping through her red panties. Steve’s mouth follows each drop, licking and tasting this good wine on her cinnamon skin. He tugs her panties and unfurls them. His girlfriend happily lifts her legs as she reaches for his cock again.
“Let me finish the wine,” Steve hungrily utters.
Nodding, Rose completely lies down on the couch as her boyfriend clutches her thighs. He bends and laps up the combined wine and essence between her velvet folds. A pull on his hair and more squirming and squishy sounds. Then a scream.
Panting, they cuddle on the couch for a few minutes. While she strokes his hair as his head lies on her tummy, she asks, “Wanna go for a bath now?”
“Oh, I’d love to. Are there more fruity nibbles in there?”
She giggles in response because he always calls her clit his cherries and her nipples his tiny plums.
He lusts over her body even more as he follows her. Her hips sway, and her ass cheeks bounce a little as she walks into the bathroom.
**********************
Seeing the scented candles lit in the bathroom, Steve smiles. Although he really longs for the massage that she offered, his throbbing manhood really wants to take her in the wooden chair with a nice cushion, just a few steps away from the bathtub.
So he scoops her up in his arms, and she giggles in surprise. He sits down and places her on his lap, trailing his fingers on her vintage-inspired stockings. Their tongues dance as she strokes the tip of his cock and his whole length more firmly. His hardness drives him into a state of bliss. He turns her so she is facing him, and she quickly knows what to do.
Locking eyes with her beloved, Rose plants her feet on the floor, which sets her thighs draped over his. She kisses his neck lavishly, and his legs shake when she bites them softly. Her hands move up and down his growing shaft, faster and needier; his breathing, more ragged.
She teases his pulsing manhood further as she rubs her pearls on him like she was belly dancing to the rhythm of his moans.
“Oh, Rose… You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this with you,” Steve confesses, almost choking.
His hands grip her ass and squeeze it hard as they bounce. She stops kissing his neck when he whimpers and looks back at him intently.
“I can always swim in your ocean eyes,” she murmurs in ache.
Steve holds her neck lovingly to set the pace. Then he slides his touch towards her waist, lifting her and guiding her onto his cock with his dripping pre-cum. She sinks onto him, inch by inch, in pain as his girth feels so big in her entrance, and pleasure because they have both waited for this bubbling joy to burst for so long.
Now fully inside of her, he slams into her as soon as she begins to gyrate, now in heavier yearning. Their bodies make more sounds like the music that they sing when they’ve desired to hold each other for real. He drowns her with his warm kisses, not wanting to part his lips from her skin.
“‘Cause I want nothing more than to sit outside your door, and listen to your breathing. That’s where I want to be…” Light House’s song plays on the cabin’s speaker.
With Steve’s excitement, each thrust feels like her pussy’s walls will collapse. Rose clenches the swell between her legs in every movement of her hips, wonderfully receiving his rhythmic push and pull.
Like a heavy tidal wave, he crashes onto her core intensely. He bites her nipple as she screams, “I am so cloooose!”
Holding her gaze, Steve brings her to rapture, her orgasm breaking through as tears roll down her cheeks.
“Oh, my Rose, did I hurt you so much?”
“The only kind of pain that I want,” she utters while panting. She smiles as he wipes the tears from her eyes. Her essence flows over his.
Immediately, it signals him to rush into besieging her back into delirium. They grip each other’s arms into a quaking embrace. Their bodies continue to writhe. His seemingly unstoppable thrusts send her to another rhapsody. Screaming his name, she lets go and floods him once again. Just in time, he breaks loose and pours out the surge of his seed as he orgasms deep within her womb.
Breathing each other in, these lovers feel that their White Christmas, sweetly combined now and oozing down that chair, is definitely not too late.
Outside the cabin, the sun has already set, and the snow falls beautifully. Wrapped in Steve’s arms, Rose smiles as she watches this magic happen through the big glass window of the bathroom. It’s their first snowfall together.
“Thank you for coming into my life, even if it felt so late,” Steve whispers in tears.
“Thank you for still opening your arms to me, even if I arrived when you are no longer free.”
Reassuring her, he says, “But I am here.”
Rose brushes her lips against his. He kisses her as they are both in tears, igniting the cold night with their flame.
