MEETING ST. VALENTINE
***********************************
Melody's and Nick's joy was heightened by the romantic atmosphere of Eb's old shack.
It looked shabby from the outside, but inside, it was a charming romantic cabin with rich glowing log walls and a lovely field stone fireplace. On the hearth sat an old RCA Victrola phonograph, one that preceded Edison's cylinder type records from the 1920's.
Eb's 1930's Victrola played what was called "78" records. He knew that his collection was getting rarer by the day, that it had become obsolete--replaced by "33" records, 8 tracks and cassette recordings --eventually CD's and DVD's.
Melody and Nick regarded Eb's collection as precious and valuable.
For them, it and had a particular sound and warmth, not heard in the more modern day recordings. The one they particular enjoyed and danced to was "At Last." When the song ended, Nick kept reaching over and re-setting the diamond needle, to let it play over and over again.
By the fifth time it played, his hands had dropped down to fondle her, to draw her much closer. This time, when it finished playing, Nick forgot to move the needle back, but they continued to dance anyway, and found themselves becoming increasingly aroused.
Returning in kind, she slipped her hands into his deep pockets to fondle his muscular thighs. Instead, she found at the juncture of his thighs--an unavoidable rock hardness.
Overcome with lust, she put her weakened arms around his neck, and parted her legs as he positioned his leg as if to hold his spot. Responding, she softly moaned as he coaxed her hand downward.
"Be quiet now," he said, "listen for the rasp of my zipper, I have a gift in here for you. "
"When Nicholas, when? Take it out . . . give it to me darling, give it to me . . . I'm ready," she whispered, "more than ready."
"Stand still, don't move, not until I'm inside you."
"When darling, when?"
Untying the bow on her wrap skirt, he let it drop to the floor and slipped his thumb beneath the leg of her panties, touching her where she wanted it, where she ached and throbbed the most.
"When, Libby? How about when I'm done making you feel better than you've ever felt in your life? Come for me baby, take it out," he said as his thumb moved over her and his fingers explored, "it's all yours, I'm all yours."
Feeling herself tightening, she quickened her thrust against his fingers and then slipped her hand inside his baggy snowmobile pants to find what she had wanted for oh so long.
"That's it, baby." He growled loudly, that's it, take hold of it, release it, let it be free."
* * * * * * *
She curled her palm around his thickness, and stroked him making his soft moans turn into short breaths and finally, a long, low, growl.
With all of his apprehensions disappearing, he moaned, "Oh Libby. . . don't let go, not ever . . . I've needed you for so long . . . "
She was afraid he couldn't last like this, especially when she saw his face tightening; his jaw locking; yet there was no way in hell, she could stop now.
"Kiss me, kiss me before I change my mind about all this," he growled.
"Oh, Nicholas, don't do that, just let me make you feel good," she pleaded.
"Baby, I want to, I want to so much . . . "
"Am I turning you on, like you do me?"
With anguish in his voice he replied, "Good God, Libby yes. I want you in every way, but we gotta talk."
But as it turned out, they DIDN'T have their talk.
Through the kitchen window came the flashing red and blue lights of casino security car. Within minutes, someone was beating on the door.
"Are guys in there?"
"Tommy?" Nick hollered with relief, "Is that you?" Throwing open the door he demanded, "What the hell's going on?"
"Sorry to bother you like this Nick, but I heard you were staying here with Libby to watch Eb's place . . . I need to talk to her. Got a call from a downstate cop friend of mine that said her sister was trying to get a hold of her, that her cell phone said her message box was full. I told him I'd let you know on my way home . . . just trying to a good neighbor . . . Nick, no skin off my nose."
As it turned out Libby's sister was trying to reach her to let her know that their mother was dying, that she had called out for Libby.
* * * * * * *
Nick took Libby to her car and insisted on driving her to the city.
"You're in no shape to make that long drive this time of the night."
Once they arrived and he got Libby settled, Nick holed up in a nearby hotel. Throughout her four day ordeal and finally for her mother's funeral, Nick was at her beck and call.
When it was all over, as much as Nick wanted to stay and help longer, he had to return to work and ended up taking a bus back up north. He simply could not afford to neglect his business any longer, or lose his part-time job as a ski instructor.
Before going back, he told Libby, "Promise me to come back, that you will give me a second chance, at least a chance to settle matters between us. We've been friends since we were kids, we can't let a little genealogy separate us forever."
"I agree Nick. One way or another, I will return for Valentine's Day Weekend. I promise. If nothing else, I can take a tour of your chalet and we can take advantage of your free ski passes."
* * * * * * *
On Friday, February 11, Libby arrived in her old home town of Harbor Cove and once again they met at the Main Street Pub. This time, their excitement was dampened a bit by the unfinished business from the 17th, of January, when her mother had first taken sick.
After a couple of beers, country music and a platter of the pub's mini-burgers, they were loosened up enough to talk about what they'd been avoiding all night.
"I think I know what your problem is Nicholas, you're worried we could be related, I read all about it in Eb's letter that night . . ."
"Yeah. For the first time in my life, I understood how things like that could happen, but all I could think about was my dad's dying word's and my promise to him to always try and do the right thing, no matter what . . . "
"Nick, when I read Eb's letter, I misunderstood it, I worried for a few minutes that somehow it could be true, that maybe we really DID have the same father, but after my mother died, I went through her strong box. It was all there, the tests, the court papers, and the bank deposit slips. My father, was NOT your father, it was my mother's boss at the post office. He paid child support to her until I was eighteen."
"Oh Libby, thank God. I tried to push it out of my mind, but it always kept coming back to me . . . my father's last words . . . "
"Well, Nick, there's more. Brace yourself. I AM related to you, but the good news is that we're distant. At the most on your mother's side, we're cousins. My aunt said she always did think that it was your father who got Great Aunt Mina pregnant. She was her's and my mother's second cousin, making her my third cousin, which would make us fourth cousins."
"And that doesn't bother you? Melody, I'm taking you to a hotel right now. I can't handle this."
"Don't bother," she hurled at him, "I'll grab the casino shuttle to and find my own place along the way . . . I gotta say though, I didn't think you'd give up me so easily."
"It's NOT easy Libby . . . ."
"You're nuts! We are far enough apart genetically that there are no risks, and even if you think there is any chance there could be, I can't have babies, so there. Surely your father would not have objected under the circumstances. Holy shit, even the church for centuries married relatives, but forget it. I'm glad you showed your true colors tonight. It will be good to be rid of your righteous, pious, fence riding ass."
* * * * * * *
Libby slamed her chair up to the table and tried to charge out of the pub to grab the approaching shuttle. She got as far as the front door when Nick grabbed on to her arm so hard it hurt.
He boarded the bus with her and they sat in silence as the only rider's. The driver watched them in the mirror and said nothing figuring they were both ready to explode.
Another's lover quarrel he thought.
The first shuttle stop was at the Holiday Inn. Libby grabbed her back pack and said, "I'm staying here if there's a room," then she handed him her car keys.
"If you want to do me favor, bring my car to the parking lot and leave my keys at the front desk. The manager knows me from way back, so even if there's not a room, he'll keep them for me."
"Do you really think you are going to get rid of me that easy Libby?"
Be rid of him? The thought of never seeing Nick again pressed in on her chest, and brought forth a deep sob she didn't want him to hear.
The bastard had made it very clear he wanted them to go their separate ways, and had dismissed her all too easily. That kind of man she didn't need in her life, relative or no relative.
She was pumped with adrenaline and couldn't get away from him fast enough, but he tagged along despite her objections, got off the bus with her and after she checked in, proceeded to walk her up to her room.
"Don't worry Libby, I'm not coming any further than your door, I just want to make sure you are in your room safe."
She put the card in her door, the green light flashed, and the door opened. Suddenly she paused and placed her hands on Nick's chest.
With tears flowing down her cheeks she said, "Nick, "I don't want to get rid of you. We have too much history to let this come between us, if we can't be lovers, we'd can at least be friends."
* * * * * * *
Nick bent over as if he'd been hit in the stomach and looked down at her hand resting on his chest and growled.
"Friends? Jesus, Libby, are you torturing me on purpose?"
Looking up she drank in the face she was so crazy about, and broke away from him.
"Being with me is torture?"
"Yes, it is," he said following her into the room, pulling her against his chest and murmuring, "being here with you right now, it's the WORST kind of torture. For nearly two months I've been obsessed with you. The smell of your hair, the touch of your skin . . . when you're near, I'm afraid I'm losing control . . . maybe that's the real problem . . . maybe I'm looking for an excuse to run . . . afraid you'll leave me like everyone has."
It wasn't what she expected he'd say, and not a declaration of love, but it was close, it fed her hope and warmed her heart, and she couldn't keep herself from pointing her finger at him.
"Nick, what you need, is to free enough with me to know it's OKAY, for you to lose control."
"Libby, what kind of man do you think I am? I don't think you want that . . . "
"Nick, you're wrong, I WANT you to lose control and take me right along with you."
* * * * *
Placing his palm against her cheek he pulled her back far enough to gaze into her face. "I don't want to hurt you, I'm shocked and confused, not sure how I feel right now, I was so sure about us earlier, but tonight I'm standing here, scared shitless to make love to you--I'm screwed--because if I do, then I won't be able to stop loving you until one of us is dead."
She grasped his wrist and kissed the heel of his hand. "That's bad? It sounds good to me Nick."
Touching her face tenderly, he tilted it up, and lowered his mouth to hers--pressed kiss upon kiss spreading fire on her lips, his moist tongue exploring her mouth and boiling the blood that raced through her body as if on a mission.
Running her fingers through the sides of his hair, she held the back of his head and felt the exact moment his kiss turned hotter, wetter, all consuming, as if he was sorrier and than he'd ever been in his life, and was about to prove it.
Releasing her face, his hands moved over her, up and down her body, touching as much of her as her could, her arms, waist, and back, above and below her breasts, her thighs, her behind--he missed nothing as he grasped through her skirt, untied it and let it slide down her legs to her feet.
A deep groan rumbled from his chest and he tore his mouth from hers. Their gazes locked, their tangled rasping breaths, loud in the stillness.
Nick's fists grasped the bottom edge of her top and he pulled it over her head and let out a gasp.
"Is this what you want?" he asked, "me to take you like this?
"Yes," she laughed, "take me now or forever hold your peace."
Digging the end of his shirt from his pants, she pulled it over his head and slung it away as she ran one hand through his hair and the other down the front of his pants.
"Then you better hang on tight," he said as he bent at the knees and threw her over his shoulder,
"before I change my mind, and you're out of luck."
"Nick, what are you doing?"
"Taking you to bed before I completely lose it and toss you on the floor like a wench."
"I can walk," she protested as he carried her from the room.
"Not for much longer," he chuckled.
He followed his bad boy boast with a sloppy wet kiss as he carried her into the bedroom.
Throwing her on the bed, he pulled her against his body and took off his pants and jockey's so fast she couldn't believe her eyes. In a flash, he had her straddling his hardness, her eyes closed, moaning, lost in the ecstasy of the moment.
When he paused, she opened her eyes, he was above her, reaching for his wallet by the lamp.
Fumbling from lack of recent experience, he opened the condom and put it on, rolled it down his long shaft to the base, then he looked at her ablaze with need and greed, as she held her arms out up for him in complete surrender.
Placing one elbow by her shoulders, he kissed her mouth as he entered her body, plunging so fully, he pushed her upped the soft headboard.
Again and again, he delved into her, hard and deep, as she arched up to meet each thrust of his pumping hips. The choppy breath matched his, over and over, until mini climax after climax grabbed her in its intensity and she lost all inhibitions calling out, "Harder Nick, harder!"
Wave after fiery wave rushed across her flesh as the walls of her body gripped and pulsed and tore a raw groan from the depths of her chest.
He cursed and praised her in one long tortured breath.
"Do you want it like this? . . . Is this hard enough? . . . How about this? . . . Do you like it like this? . . . Or is this more like it . . . thrust with me baby, thrust with me . . . OMG, OMG, YES!"
She clung to him as if her life depended upon it.
"MAKE ME COME . . . MAKE ME COME . . . OMG . . . DON'T STOP . . . NEVER . . . OMG . . . NO . . . YES . . . OMG, YES!" she cried out as she met him thrust for thrust, over and over again.
Then with everything he had left, he plunged into her one last time with a primal roar and collapsed upon her spent body like a wounded beast drugged to meet its maker.
Then she drew him close, held him to her heart, which she was sure, beat just to love him.
Only after their breathing calmed, did Nick pull out of her body and resume laying in her arms
in a peace and contentment he had never had.
"How did you feel tonight . . . about St. Nick turning into St. Valentine?" he said turning her around to nestle with him. "
"Wonderful my St. Valentine. Like anything is possible, like we haven't a problem in the world."
"I agree my precious Libby. I agree."
************************
THE END
Please Note: This concludes the "Hitting On Santa" series began in December.
If you haven't read the proceeding chapters, please do so, if time and interest allow, however, I hope this conclusion can be read and enjoyed without reading what came before.
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Submitted by:
Madison
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