Wicked Night Before Christmas (3 page)

"Damn, you're so wet. I could do this all night long.” Lucas had spread her labia and speared her with his tongue before feasting on her like a man deprived of sweet meats. His mouth was hot against her entry as he continued to taste her.

Cara's chest thrust forward when she aimed the part of her that she knew would help her reach the highest peak. “Please...right there."

"Ready to come, baby?"

"Yes. Oh yes."

"Spread your pussy for me. Oh, fuck. Yes. You're dripping in my mouth.” Lucas sucked her open cunt.

"Ohh, I want to come."

"You will, love.” With the flats of his tongue, he had licked her good. “Taste so good."

"Lucas, now."

Finally, he took pity on her. Lucas had squeezed her breast and clamped his clit between his teeth for a great suckling that had her screaming. The dual assault on her body opened the gates of pleasure that had led her to the highest peak. Cara had screamed Lucas's name. The intensity of her orgasm had her shaking. She felt like laughing and crying at the same time. Still reeling from her release, Lucas helped her scoot down until his cock touched her ass. “Now what?"

"Now it's my turn.” Lucas had pulled her down on top of him and rolled. Cara found herself pinned beneath him. Settled in between her legs with the length of his cock pressed on her pussy, he said, “You're mine now."

Cara had held her breath and waited as Lucas rubbed the tip of his penis up and down her pussy a couple times. He teased her entry with the tip of his wet cock before slowly sliding inside her passage. Lucas was long and thick that she had felt her vagina stretch. When he had reached her barrier, her pleasure was dampened with pressure and a slight hint of pain. And the pressure she knew was due to her intact hymen.

"Baby, hang on. I'll fuck you fast and hard. Damn, you're so tight."

"Lucas,” she had whispered and dug her fingers on his shoulders

Lucas thrust his hips. He stopped then pressed deeper. “Cara, are you...you're a virgin?"

"Yes, but—"

"Fuckin’ eh! Why didn't you tell me? I could have hurt you. Are you okay?"

"Yes, but I won't be okay if you stop."

"Are you sure? It's not too late."

"I'm sure."

"Really?"

"Yes, I want this. I want you."

Lucas had kissed her with his tongue thrust inside her mouth sharing the scent and taste he got from her. “Cara, baby. I want this, too. Fuck, you have no idea. But you might—"

"Please, Lucas."

"I need to protect you."

"Not now. I'll die if you stop. Now, Lucas."

"Cara, you might regret—"

"Please."

"Hang on to my shoulders. That's it. You're so ready you might not feel the pain. If you do just let—"

"Quit talking. Just do it, Lucas."

And then he had thrust in one swift move. Lust and the need to come again quickly replaced her tiny feeling of discomfort. Lucas had covered her mouth with his, swallowing her cries of pleasure as he pumped inside her until his movement turned almost unrestrained. “Lift your ass. Yes...Cara, Caraaa...” he had groaned and bit her neck lightly before kissing the same spot.

Lucas had stayed the whole night. They made love five times in the course of eight hours. Lucas had used the pack of condoms he stashed in his duffel bag except for the first time. Cara woke up the next morning with Lucas's lips on her breasts, nibbling her skin. While kissing her awake, he had explained that he would be busy for the next month because of the new case he had to take in Florida. Just wait for him, he had told her. When he returned, they would talk.

A skier whizzed past, apologized for spraying her with pristine white snow, bringing her back to where she was—a cold mountain and not Lucas's hot arms.
He came back alright—with Rochelle
.

Cara got in line. Since only a few skiers were left, it didn't take long before it was her turn to get in a chair.

Maybe if she tired herself, she could tell Amy's mom and dad when she returned from the slopes that she needed rest and wouldn't be able to join them for dinner or family night. She would wait in her room until it was time for her and Amy to leave for a fun night at Whistler Hall. Sounds like a good plan, she thought. But what about the rest of the week? She couldn't possibly ski every single day. She'd be in a coma from exhaustion before the week was over. Besides, hiding was for cowards. And she was everything but that.

She could handle this. She could face the man who showed her how spectacular sex could be and insulted her after by bringing his ex-girlfriend home instead of following up on his promise of talk.

Yeah, I'm not a baby and not a coward
. She could even try the Devil's Jump.

On her way up to the Jersey Cream Bowl, an easy run for a beginner like her, she forced a smile and waved at the tourists riding the gondolas. Wintertime in Whistler was always the heaven for skiers due to its combined extensive terrain and good snow. Tourists who didn't care about skiing came here to walk around the village to shop, enjoy the highly rated nightlife, or simply enjoy the view.

Cara scanned the majestic beauty surrounding her, savoring the chance of being one with nature. For skiing enthusiasts, Whistler Blackcomb Resort was a paradise. Different slopes catered for every level of skier and snowboarder. Every type of terrain could be accessed by lift system or snowmobiles and yet the slopes remained uncrowded allowing sufficient areas for lovers, newlyweds, or any couples. Which, she supposed, made this place romantic. Closing her eyes, she honed her senses on the sensuous sound of skis smoothing the angel-wing white snow and the intoxicating fragrance of trees. This place was made for lovers.

The sound of people laughing made her open her eyes. She loved being here, to ski, although she wasn't a great skier, drink hot cocoa and watch people from all over the world mix together, and basked in all of God's wonderful creation. This was her first time celebrating the holidays with Amy's family, the McLeod's. And it was possible that this could be her last.

From the ski chain, Cara looked down at a couple skiing together. Honeymooners, she thought. The way the two skied with a speed of a turtle, stopping to exchange kisses, they wouldn't reach the bottom of the mountain until midnight. She bet they wouldn't mind.

She could have been doing the same if she was still with Rick. Their three-week relationship had progressed smoothly, but when she felt Rick was beginning to feel sexual and looked forward to the more physical part of the relationship, she chickened out and broke up with him. She couldn't imagine getting in bed with him. Continuing with the relationship wasn't fair for him anyway. He loved her, he said so many times, but she pined for another man—Lucas McLeod.

The lift slowed then stopped. Elf Steve, the ski lift usher, with a big smile and sun burned cheeks and nose, helped her by stopping her chair. “Jersey Cream Bowl, miss."

"Thanks. Is the Devil's Jump still open?"

"Yeah. You have to get off at the third stop. Wanna do it?"

Why not try it? Devil's Jump required concentration and attention. It would be a perfect way for her to forget about Lucas and his tongue sticking friend. “Yup."

"Okay. Just follow the sign to the Devil. This'll be the last run so if you want to take it, your last chance for today. The lift will stop in a few minutes."

"Thanks. I will take the Devil. I'll probably see you again tomorrow."

She'd never been this high up. Cara felt like flying. The air was thinner and colder, but with the sun beating down on her, it evened out the temperature. She felt good actually.

Seeing she was about to get off the lift, Cara readied her poles.

She planted her pole and skied, following the arrows pointing toward the Devil's Jump. She could do it. How was she going to improve if she kept on taking the bunny hills? She passed the sign,
Red Flag- Expert Level
.

Facing down the slope, she finally realized why the run was named after a devil. And seeing how steeped it was, she'd more likely face the devil before she reached the bottom. From miles down, she could see different jumps and sharp turns. Filling her lungs with air, she kept her courage from turning into stardust. “Okie dokie, Cara. This is it.” All she had to do was control her speed and she'd make it downhill still standing.

She fixed her goggles, making sure they were tight enough to keep the snow from getting inside, adjusted her gloves and hung on to her poles with a tight grip. With her heart thumping against her chest, she pushed using her pole.

As soon as she went down, she picked up speed. Cara tucked her poles and bent forward to keep her balance. The run was somewhat easy until she reached the rough rugged terrain. She managed to make a sharp turn to avoid a tree, but ended up inside the half pipe snowboarders would most likely take. Cara breathed in and out. The pipe posed no difficulty at all as long as she stayed off the sides. But her heart sank when she saw what was ahead of her—two jumps. The one on the left looked higher than the one on the right leaving a narrow room for her to go through in the middle. She concentrated and kept her eye on the left jump. But the closer she had gotten to it, the quicker her courage depleted. And at the last moment, she decided to take the narrow passage instead. She made a turn, but the tip of her left ski caught the side of the jump.

The scenery blurred and the world went into slow motion. Blue skies and snow covered trees turned upside down and right side up. Powdered snow flew around her. She tumbled and couldn't stop. After what seemed to be forever, finally, she landed flat on her back.

For a minute, Cara kept her eyes closed. She felt dizzy. Bile rose from her throat. Breathing hard through her mouth, she tried to calm herself. She didn't know where she had landed and was afraid to find out.
Crap
!
What a hell of a tumble
. She blinked and opened her eyes. Through her partly covered goggles, she stared at the sky. Cara didn't move. She waited for the pain to come. Nothing. She could move her feet. Her left foot was a bit sore, but not broken. Her lower back throbbed from landing hard on the snow, which later tonight would probably give her hell for being stupid. But other than that, she was whole and alive.

Thank god
.
Imagine celebrating Christmas with a broken heart and limb
. Rochelle would probably laugh at her and Lucas would look at her with pity in his eyes. Her goggles fogged up as warm tears quickly blurred her eyes. She should just go home or somewhere. Just get away from here. Running away wasn't always a sign of cowardice, but of maturity or being smart. Why punish herself by sticking around the man she loved who obviously had no feelings for her? Why didn't she just accept her parents’ offer to go with them in Italy?

Sadness overwhelmed her. Suddenly she felt so tired and achy. Her cell phone rang, but she ignored it. All she wanted to do was lay there and watch the clouds go by, feel the soft breeze touch her cheeks and let the lowering afternoon sun bake her cold miserable self.

And so she did.

Why did Cara have to go up again, alone? Lucas asked himself. She wasn't an expert skier. The woman was as graceful as an elephant in her own glass store. It amazed him how she could make and sell hand blown glass vases when she broke more than two every day.

When he saw his sister come into the restaurant without Cara, he wasn't surprised to hear Cara decided to go home alone than ride with them. Cara had been ignoring him, giving him cold shoulders since he had arrived. The way she'd been acting it was as if he did something to upset her. It was she who pissed him off.

The same day he had left for Florida, he had started looking forward to seeing her again and planned what they would do together. But three weeks after he'd been gone, he had heard she started going out with a man, which meant she wasn't as affected as he was by what had happened between them. And that seriously stung his ego, his freaking heart. Hadn't she understood when he had said wait for him?

He wondered if she had woken up and realized she had made a mistake giving her virginity to him. Was he a lousy lover? He didn't think so. Cara had fallen apart in his arms when she climaxed. He knew it. She had matched him thrust for thrust, moaned lustily while her walls throbbed around him. She had screamed his name before sighing in exhaustion with passion, burning in her eyes and a smile of satisfaction written all over her face. That night had been magical and Cara had been the beautiful fairy floating in the bliss of pleasure. So what happened? Had she not wanted to be a virgin anymore and he just happened to be available to take it? That was so fucking bad. Because he had fallen for her—hard.

He'd met Cara when he went to her shop to pick up Amy's purchases—three multicolored, handmade, state-of-the-art vases designed with intricate patterns. He had to stare at them trying to figure out how they were made. Their meeting had been destined, he believed. He had been on his way to his office in Portland when Amy had called and asked him a favor. If he stopped by Cara's shop in Seattle, she promised that she'd paint the famous Cannon Beach Rock for him as a Christmas present.

The moment he had walked in Cara's store and spotted her behind the counter, he was glad he let his sister bribe him. Cara was busy examining a glass, wearing an old apron over a green shirt that had hugged her lush breasts like a tight skin. She had pinned up her hair, but strands had already escaped and curled around her face. He had watched her torture her lips for a while, enjoying the way she angled her head from left to the right with her light brown eyebrows slanted in a frown as she examined the vase she held. As soon as she looked up and their eyes met, he knew infatuation had struck him. And when she smiled his body had responded quickly the way he would when touched by a woman. Right that moment, he had wanted to run his hands on her smooth hair, to taste her wet lips with his own, and search her secret curves.

Cara and Amy, both artists in their own way, had became fast friends and he had been a friend and brother they teased. His infatuation with Cara had quickly turned into an obsession. He had dreamed about her, had thought about her constantly, and had come up with all kinds of excuses so he could see her. Something about her ability to compose herself as an intelligent, professional, and confident woman when around other people and be as playful as a girl with him and Amy had fascinated him. Cara was not perfect by any means. She could hold her glass with gentleness, but break one because she was clumsy. Her imperfections though were what made her more enchanting.