The Perfect Gift

1. Rosie

1 /

rosie

Greg promised we’d spend every waking hour fucking our brains out, but he’d yet to touch me.

Not even one fucking kiss.

Seven days in this cabin. We were on day three.

Not. A. Single. Kiss.

It was turning out to be the worst Christmas vacation I’d ever had.

I was dying to be fucked. With how busy our lives were, it sometimes felt like we went eons without so much as a kiss. I was touch-starved, horny, and in need of something more than ‘quality’ time with him.

A clay mug of hot chocolate warmed my hands. Steam twisted up into the air, the crackling of the fireplace the only sound aside from my husband’s occasional hum.

Beyond the window was a world of fluffy snow and a sky blushing purple as the sun slowly set. Dark clouds gathered in the distance, encroaching on the beauty. My husband stared out of the massive cabin windows with more interest than he had in me.

Greg had surprised me with a getaway for Christmas this year. A few days away from our responsibilities and the stress of our jobs. He was a neurosurgeon at St. David’s in Austin, and I was a pro bono lawyer with a penchant for taking too much onto my plate. But I had a soft spot for those in need, and could never turn down a case.

This was the one week out of the year where the two of us could get away without the crushing pressure of our regular lives, and I intended to enjoy it.

Even if he clearly wasn’t. Bastard.

I took a sip of my hot chocolate. It didn’t matter how sweet it tasted; I was still bitter. What should we even talk about? I couldn’t think of a topic outside of work. And if I had to hear about Tom from his office again, I’d cut a hole into the surface of the icy lake we had such a good view of and dive right in.

We were trapped inside a perfect snow globe, but all I wanted was for someone to come along and shake things up.

“You think we’ll be snowed in?” I asked casually.

He simply shrugged his shoulders and then adjusted his custom engraved cufflinks. A flicker of annoyance lit in my chest, and I did my best to snuff it out.

We were in a cabin out in the middle of nowhere surrounded by a beautiful lake, a lush evergreen forest, and breathtaking mountains—and yet he still wore a suit. That was the kind of guy Greg was. He enjoyed expensive things like silk ties, gold watches, yachts, and members-only clubs. When he wasn’t wearing scrubs, he was always dressed like a district attorney who’d been paid handsomely to look the other way. Dark hair with a few streaks of silver, a well-trimmed beard that was long enough to feel good between my thighs (not that he was down there often anymore), broad shoulders, and a tight ass that really looked good in pressed slacks.

My husband was sexier than sin, and yet—I craved more.

“Greg?”

“Yeah, baby?”

I drummed my crimson acrylics along my mug. “Come sit with me.”

“I’m keeping an eye on the weather.”

“It’s not like we can do anything about it,” I snipped.

The storm was moving in faster than I’d expected, the snow growing heavier by the second. The purple skies were slowly eclipsed by gray and white.

An unwelcome blanket of exasperation settled over me. We had plenty of food, movies to enjoy, even a hot tub—but he just wanted to stand there and stare out the window.

I’d packed good lingerie for this trip. I’d even bought a new set to surprise him with, to try to liven things up. Red heels, fishnet stockings, a tight dress that I wanted ripped off my body.

I wanted to be devoured. I wanted to be bred until his cum was dripping from my pussy and down my golden thighs. I wanted him to lap up every drop, to fuck me like I was the only person in the world that could give him what he wanted.

Not even a fucking kiss!

I couldn’t keep sitting here, watching him watch the weather.

I leaned forward and set my mug down on the coffee table. The living room was massive with vaulted ceilings and exposed beams, a couch meant for an entire family, a beautiful fireplace with a TV above it, and a Christmas tree that was at least ten feet tall. It was a beautiful space with every amenity we could need for a mountain getaway, and yet…

Would anything ever satisfy me?

My muscles rejoiced as I stood up and stretched, seeing if my movement would draw his attention.

It didn’t.

Son of a bitch.

Fine, Greg, fuck off. He could have fun watching the snow fall; I was going to go change into something and ride my vibrator into oblivion. Merry fucking Christmas to me.

“I’m going to change,” I muttered.

“Okay, babe.”

Such an autopilot response. Frustration seethed as I left the living room. The house was open concept, the living room seamlessly transitioning into the kitchen and dining area with glass doors that looked out over the rest of the property. With the snow coming down so heavily, I could no longer see the mountain range in the distance.

Now, we really were in a snow globe.

I stepped right and went through a doorway to our bedroom. It had a king-sized bed with the type of headboard you could tie someone to. Not that I’d even get the chance at this point.

But, I had to hand it to my husband. He had good taste.

If only he would fuck me.

I grabbed my black leather bag and set it on the foot of the bed. I eyed the chair in the corner and snorted.

Hotel rooms, B & Bs, and cabins all had one thing in common—there was always a cuck chair.

My chunky knit sweater and black leggings hit the floor. Goosebumps prickled along my skin from the cool gust of air as I stripped all the way down, tossing my panties and bra onto the pile. I raked my fingers through my short black hair.

The frustration I felt was becoming unbearable. I could have stayed at home if Greg wasn’t going to follow through on a week full of good sex and presents. Maybe I was being a little ungrateful, but with how much we worked, I needed a release.

I unzipped my bag and dug around until I found the outfit I wanted to wear. If this didn’t tempt Greg, then I wasn’t sure what would.

Within a few minutes, I felt like my confidence had inflated again. I wore a black lingerie set with fishnet stockings, and black and red heels. I pulled on a curve-hugging black dress, short and tight. If my husband didn't break his neck turning his head to look at me, then maybe our marriage was dead.

I went to the adjoining bathroom and looked myself over in the mirror. I opened up my makeup bag, pulling out a mascara that would run if he made me cry.

And I did want to cry. Not from sadness or frustration, but from having the best goddamn orgasm of the year.

With a fresh coat of mascara applied, I returned to the living room.

Greg hadn't moved an inch. He was still standing in front of the windows, looking outside with far more interest than he had in me. I stood there for a moment, my stomach fluttering with nerves. I just wanted him to want me.

Was that too much to ask for this Christmas?

“Christ,” Greg suddenly said. “Looks like there’s a couple guys out there in the snow.”

“What?” I crossed the living room and joined Greg at the window. I scowled as I leaned in close enough for my breath to fog the glass.

Two figures were blurred in the distance, clearly trekking through the snow along the banks of the lake.

“It’s really coming down out there,” I said. “I changed into something…”

He looked over at me before his eyes darted back outside. “You look nice, honey.”

Great. Beautiful. Fantastic.

Nice was not what this outfit said. It said naughty . It said fuck me .

Greg was already headed to the door. He pulled his coat over his suit and then slid on snow boots, sparing me a glance.

Was he fucking kidding me? “What are you doing?” I asked.

“Seeing if they need help, of course.”

I was going to lose my mind. Granted, when I changed into the sexy outfit, I hadn't guessed that we would have two strangers stuck out in the snow. I shook my head at him. “How do you know they need help? I'm sure they're fine.”

“Well, it doesn't hurt to ask, considering there's a snowstorm, honey.” He sounded slightly annoyed. That only pissed me off more. I threw up my hands and shook my head.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

He tugged a scarf around his neck. “You have that look on your face like you're mad at me. Aren't you having a good time?”

No Greg, I'm not having a good time. You haven't even fucking kissed me! Instead of saying that, though, I just shrugged my shoulders, watching dejectedly as he opened the front door and stepped out into the cold. I looked out the window as he flagged down the two strangers and they changed their direction towards us.

Always a good Samaritan. Always trying to help others.

But I didn't want to be good , I didn't want him to be good .

I swallowed hard. The strangers trekked closer to the cabin. Two men, by the looks of it. Both tall with broad shoulders wearing coats and… Carrying axes?

Why the hell were two lumberjacks out in a snowstorm to begin with?

Baritone voices echoed from outside. I leaned against the window, noticing one of them look directly at me.

My stomach gave a slow twist. I sucked in a breath and stepped back from the window, my thighs squeezing together.

Greg came back into the foyer, the two men piling in behind him.

“Thank you for offering us a place for the night,” one man said. “That snow storm came out of nowhere and I was getting worried.”

“Of course,” Greg said. “We have plenty of space. What did you say your name was again?”

“Greg,” I whispered, giving him a nervous look. “They’re staying the night?”

“Yes,” he said, smiling as he stepped up next to me. He slid an arm around my waist the same way he had countless times over the years, as if presenting me like a sexy trophy. “This is my wife, Rosie.”

The two men in the doorway were rugged, sexy, mountain men. One of them was at least six foot four, with broad shoulders, a short black beard, dark hair, and piercing blue eyes. He wore a ragged coat and had a bag on his back and ax now leaning against the wall.

Next to him stood the other man—slightly shorter, but still extremely large. His long, wheat-blond hair was drawn back into a bun, his skin tan despite the cold weather, and eyes a rich shade of dark brown.

Both of their hungry gazes made me want to hide.

“Greg. Can I talk to you for a moment?” I asked softly.

Greg cleared his throat and shrugged his shoulders. “Sure.”

“We’ll be back in a sec.” I grabbed his arm and guided him to the kitchen, pulling us into a corner and out of sight. “What the fuck are you doing?” I whispered.

“What do you mean? I couldn't let those guys stay out in the snow. The storm is really bad and the last thing I want is for someone to be stranded in it. They clearly needed a place to stay for the night and there is plenty of space here.”

“This was supposed to be a getaway for us,” I said. “You and I are supposed to be in bed or on the couch. You're supposed to be spoiling me.”

“Don't you think making sure two people don't freeze to death is more important than having sex?”

His question pissed me off. My logical brain said yes, of course. Having sex was not more important than making sure two hot lumberjacks didn't freeze to death.

However, my pussy disagreed. I was fucking dying, and the idea of us now being interrupted by these two strangers infuriated me. But what was I supposed to do about it? Tell him to toss them back out into the cold?

I couldn’t be that icy. Not on Christmas Eve.

“What are you worried about?” he asked.

“I’m worried about several things. But if you really think this is best, then that's fine. I guess I'll change.”

“You look great,” he said. “I don't think you need to change.”

I raised a brow, searching his eyes. Was he serious? Was he okay with me being dressed this way in front of two strangers? Not that it was his choice, anyway. If I wanted to change, I would.

Then again, I thought about the hungry look I'd seen on both of their faces…

If Greg wasn't going to look at me that way, then at least having two other people doing so would satisfy something inside me.

“Okay. Alright. Let's let them stay the night,” I said.

He smiled. “Good.”

I leaned up to kiss him, but he dodged it, just giving my arm a rub, and stepping past me. I scoffed, bracing my hands on the counter and taking a moment to breathe before I murdered my husband.

I followed him back to the foyer, giving the strangers a smile. “I didn’t catch your names.”

“I’m Hawk,” the dark-haired one answered.

“And I'm Ashton,” the blond one said.

“Nice to meet both of you,” I said. “And merry Christmas. Make yourselves at home. I know how cold it is out there tonight.”

“It's freezing outside, but it's certainly hot in here,” Hawk said, his lips tugging into a smirk. A thin scar glinted at his upper lip.

I swallowed hard, wondering what kind of Christmas Eve this was going to be.