A Winter's Date
Authors: Sasha Brümmer,Jess Epps
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Erotica, #A Winter's Date
A Winter’s Date
Published by Jessica Epps and Sasha-Lee Brümmer
2015 Edition
ISBN: 978-0-9863049-3-4
Copyright © 2015 Jessica Epps and Sasha-Lee Brümmer
Editor:
Lisa Aurello
Cover Designer:
Judi Perkins
Interior Design and Formatting:
Christine Borgford,
Perfectly Publishable
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, scanning, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without permission in writing from the copyright owners/authors. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited in any form whatsoever.
This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, places, characters, and incidents either are products of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously. The ideas, characters, and situations presented in this story are strictly fictional and any unintentional likeness to real persons, living or dead, or real situations are completely coincidental.
The following story contains mature themes, strong language, and sexual situations. It is intended for adult readers.
This book is dedicated to our readers—to all of those who share a love for Heather and Noah’s story.
Bright—
Echosmith
Cookie
—R. Kelly
Desire—
Meg Myers
Elastic Heart
—Sia, ft. The Weeknd and Diplo
Falling
—Florence and the Machine
Fine by Me
—Andy Grammer
Going Down for Real
—Flo Rida
Happy
—Pharrell Williams
Hey Mama
—David Guetta, ft. Nicki Minaj, Bebe Rexha & Afrojack
High for This
—The Weeknd
Lay Me Down
—Sam Smith, ft. John Legend
Moondance
—Michael Bublé
Moving Pictures Silent Films
—Great Lake Swimmers
Once Upon a Dream
—Lana Del Rey
Skinny Love
—Birdy
Summertime Sadness
—Lana Del Rey
The Sea and the Rhythm
—Iron & Wine
The Trapeze Swinger
—Iron & Wine
#1 Crush
—Garbage
NOAH
An ominous storm delivers its wrath over the heart of London, opening the sky. Through the darkening night, thunderous cracks and bolts of lightning strike in concert. Rain beating against the window in Heather’s room on the thirty-fifth floor is the only audible sound in the apartment, distracting me from my studies when it pulls my gaze out of the window and into the capturing beauty of the turbulent storm.
The love of a woman can make a man do dubious things, and the way Heather loves me has made me do some ridiculous shit. For instance, dropping everything and flying across an ocean to track her down and claim her as my own again. I’ve been in London for two weeks now; I couldn’t care less about my surroundings, just as long as she’s there. I haven’t broached the subject on how long she plans on staying, though, and, quite frankly, I’m not okay with a long-distance relationship. I did not like the distance when she left Arizona, but London? Yeah, not happening. I can be dominant when I want to be, but the problem is . . . Heather doesn’t respond well to dominance unless it involves us being naked and my dick between her legs. I haven’t—and I won’t—push her to go home with me, although that’s ultimately what I want.
I’ve been studying day and night for the bar exam while Heather has been dancing her little ass off; she’s exceedingly dedicated to her ballet career, now more than before. The only recurring problem seems to be Alexis Keeley. Every time I swing by the studio to have lunch with Heather or pick her up, Alexis is waiting. She’s like a vulture waiting on my relationship to perish, so she can swoop in and pick up the pieces. I refuse to let that happen.
I’m lost in my thoughts when I feel her lips graze the skin on my neck. I didn’t even feel her walk up to me, let alone hear her pad into the room. I can feel her smile against my skin, and she’s bubbling with energy. Turning around quickly, I knock her off her feet, and then catch her before she is able to fall. She moves her gorgeous self onto my lap while giggling sweetly.
“Good evening, little ballerina. How was practice?”
“Hi, baby. It was good, but I couldn’t get my mind off of you.”
Damn, she smells like heaven. “Oh yeah? Why was that?” I taunt.
She nuzzles herself into my neck and nips at me. “Because I’ve wanted you since you got up at five in the morning to study. I didn’t want to interrupt, though; you were so invested in your books. And twelve hours later, you’re still studying.”
I close my book, remembering the page number before sliding it to the other end of the desk.
“Is that better? You now have my undivided attention.”
She sighs dramatically. “Finally.”
The smile that forms on my face is the one that’s been there since I made love to her during an intense storm while in the London Eye. Her hands move down to grasp my cock through my sweatpants, surprising me with her urgency. Blood rushes through my veins all the way down to my dick, forming an unmistakable tent in my sweats when she moves her hand away. Her body is so attuned to mine that she starts grinding those hips on me before I can even get my hands on her pale skin. I know she’s wet and ready for me, and I’m going to satisfy this budding need in her until she can’t stand my touch without exploding in a rush of orgasm. Before I can finish that thought, there’s a knock on the door, interrupting the flash of heat between us. Shit, more like a fucking pounding.
“Heather? Noah? You two better be clothed because I’m busting in.”
The door swings open before I have a second to adjust my painfully aching cock. As much as I enjoy Heather hanging out with her best friend, Dillen, living with her is something else. She’s a ball of energy waiting to blow—blow my friend she met in New York, that is. I’ve lost track of how many times she’s asked me when Coen is coming to visit her in London. Hell, I know I won’t be getting any sleep when that dipshit arrives. Heather and I might have to retreat to a hotel during his stay, or at the very least purchase some earplugs.
“Dillen,” Heather mockingly scolds.
“What? Oh, were you two about to do it?” she asks sarcastically. She knows Heather can’t stay off of my dick for more than twelve hours. She’s like one hell of an athlete, thriving on sex to calm her and rein in her body before performing.
Heather looks down at my still-hard cock. Her little hand is wrapped around my shaft through my sweats, and I’m sure Dillen is staring by now.
“Holy shit, Heather.”
