Read Bedding Down, A Collection of Winter Erotica Online
Authors: Rachel Krame Bussel
Bedding Down, A Collection of Winter Erotica (31 page)
jeans. “I want to hear you say it. No more notes. No more writ-
ten words, promising to come back.”
Had she promised to come back? Not in words, no, but she
remembered then: a note sent her first week from Syracuse. A
note that did promise she wasn’t going forever, that once she
made it on her own she’d come back to him. How could she
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have forgotten that? How could she have changed so much, and
so little, all at once? No wonder he’d put on his armor, had tried to keep her at arm’s length.
“No more notes,” she said.
He slid her jeans and panties down, only to her calves, not
bothering with her socks or boots. He pressed her legs as far
apart as they would go and trailed his hand between her. She
shivered, again, something she felt in her whole body. Part cold, but mostly desire. Mostly fear at what she wanted, what she
needed.
“Say it then,” he said.
“I’d borrow, burden . . . ,” she said. “For you.”
“No,” he said. He knelt before her and stuck two fingers in
the snow at his feet. He scooped up a handful of it. When he
entered her this time, his fingers were frozen, wet. They burned her insides with cold and movement. She slid closer to him,
wanted more. But he pulled out.
He opened his jeans, slid them down just enough so she could
see his cock, already rising and shiny and beautiful.
“No,” he said again, as he nudged against her. She tried to
open herself, to slide over his cock, but he moved away.
“I want to hear the rest,” he said.
Dulcie’s face burned. Her body ached. “I would . . .” She
couldn’t get the word out. “I’d beg for you.”
“Do it,” he said. His fingers moved inside her, the way her
body opened around him. He circled his thumb on her clit, the
same motion he’d made when he’d showed her how to stir.
“Please,” she said. “Please Travis. God.”
“That’s a start,” he said. He kissed her again, pressing her
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back against the tree with his fingers and his tongue, nearly lifting her from the ground. With his free hand, he worked her
nipples through her shirt. “What else? What else do you want
from me, Dulcie?”
“Please,” she said, into his neck. “Please I want you to fuck
me.”
He pulled away from her. “That’s all?” he asked. His grin was all teeth and dimples. “Why didn’t you say so sooner?”
“You’re a fucker,” she said. Her breath came in gasps, her
body already felt wrung out, scraped raw.
“I hope to be,” he said. He pulled a condom from his pocket,
held it up for her like a question.
“Yes,” she said.
When he nudged against her this time, she opened her legs as
far as she could. He held her back against the tree, didn’t let her move as he slid into her slowly, slowly. So slow that she thought she would split apart from wanting. “Please,” she whispered, and she heard him grunt low in his throat. The scar at his eyebrow
was bone-white, and a small vein stuck out on his forehead.
She knew he was trying to go slow for her, but she wanted him
inside her, wanted him to crush her and fill her.
“Pleasepleaseplease,” she said, like a mantra, like she couldn’t stop the flow of her desire, and the sound made him enter her
all the way, made him push her up and back with each thrust
of his hips. He bent his head to kiss her, his tongue thrusting as he did, everything matching the rhythm of their bodies and
bending them.
“I can’t,” he said. “I can’t last.”
“Good,” she said. She grabbed his ass, pulled him into her,
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bringing him to that final place, so that he growled against her mouth and scraped her back against the bark even through her
jacket.
“Oh God,” he said, as he came and she could only lean her
head back against the tree and feel her own desire coursing
through her, emptying out of her, even as he filled her.
They stood that way after, him softening inside her. “I don’t
want to leave,” he said.
“Me neither,” she said. And from the way he kissed her, she
knew that he understood what she was saying.
He slipped out of her and she was glad the tree was holding
her up. She wasn’t sure she could have stood otherwise. When
he bent down to help her slide her pants back up, she could only grin down at him.
“What?” he asked.
“Oh, I was just thinking I could get used to you down there,”
she said.
“As long as you don’t bean me with a pitchfork, we’ll be
okay.”
He leaned in to kiss her again, his breath warm against the
cold. “Your syrup tastes amazing,” he said. “I had it on apple
pancakes this morning. I couldn’t get you out of my mind.”
It made her smile, hearing that. How some things changed,
and others—the important things like emotions and apple
pancakes—didn’t.
He whistled the way he did, and Agate came running, ears
flopping through the snow.
“Want some help carrying those back to the syrup shack?”
he asked.
“Will I have to borrow or beg for it?”
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“I’m sure we can arrange something.”
“Maple syrup poured on my fingers?”
He kissed her fingers, then, his tongue warm against her cold
skin. “Or somewhere else.”
“You’ve got yourself a deal,” she said.
He reached down and grabbed both pails. She could only fol-
low him and Agate as they made way their way back to the sugar
shack. Around them, the trees bowed and whispered, promising
an early spring.
SHANNA GERMAIN
grew up in upstate New
York with a pitchfork in her hand, maple syrup on her
tongue, and more first loves than she can count. Her
poems, short stories, and novellas have appeared in
places like
Best American Erotica 2007; Best Bondage Erotica 2;
Best Lesbian Erotica 2008; Best Gay Romance 2008; He’s on Top;
Dirty Girls;
and
Yes, Sir.
Visit her online at www.shannagermain.com.
RACHEL KRAMER BUSSEL
(www.rachel
kramerbussel.com) has edited over twenty
erotic anthologies, including
Spanked;
Yes, Sir; Yes, Ma’am; He’s on Top; She’s
on Top; Rubber Sex; Caught Looking;
Hide and Seek; Sex and Candy; Spanked:
Red-Cheeked Erotica; Naughty Spanking
Stories from A to Z 1
and
2
; and
Best Sex
Writing 2008
. Her work has been published
in over a hundred anthologies, including
Best American Erotica 2004
and
2006
;
Zane’s
Chocolate Flava 2
; and
Purple
Panties, Everything You Know About Sex
Is Wrong
and
Desire: Women Write About
Wanting
. She hosts In the Flesh Erotic
Reading Series, wrote the popular Lusty
Lady column for
The Village Voice
, and has
contributed to
AVN, Bust, Cosmopolitan,
Diva
, Fresh Yarn, Gothamist, Huffing-
ton Post, Mediabistro,
Newsday, New
York Post, San Francisco Chronicle, Time
achel Kramer Bussel Out New York
, and
Zink
. In her spare time, she likes to blog about cupcakes at
cupcakestakethecake.blogspot.com.
R
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Cover photograph by Lisa Spindler / Images.com / IPN
BEDDING DOWN. Copyright © 2008 by Rachel Kramer Bussel. “One
Night in Winter” Copyright © 2008 by Kristina Wright. “Six Weeks on Sunrise Mountain, Colorado” Copyright © 2008 by Gwen Masters.
“It’s Not the Weather” Copyright © 2008 by Alison Tyler. “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” Copyright © 2008 by Marilyn Jaye Lewis. “Northern Exposure” Copyright © 2008 by Isabelle Gray. “Hidden Treasure”
Copyright © 2008 by Sophie Mouette. “Sweet Season” Copyright ©
2008 by Shanna Germain. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required
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Adobe Acrobat eBook November 2008
ISBN 978-0-06-172501-2
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