1. Saskia

Chapter 1

Saskia

It's been months since I felt the exquisite stretch of a cock inside me.

A few hours more shouldn’t matter, but suddenly I can’t bear them.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to pick you up from the airport?” I ask, balancing my phone between my ear and my shoulder as I slip a second bottle of Chablis into the fridge. “I don’t mind.”

“Absolutely sure,” Henry says. “You stay nice and warm. Just make sure the fire is lit, and the wine is chilling.”

I smile and press my lips together, leaning back to glance through the kitchen door to where the wood burner is roaring away in the living room. We’ve always been like this. In sync, on the same wavelength, even from the first day we met back at university.

“I’m one step ahead of you on both counts.”

“Of course you are,” he says warmly. “And can you maybe rustle something up so I can eat when I get there?”

My head snaps back. “Did you just husband me?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“That comment has extreme get back in the kitchen, wench vibes.”

He bursts out laughing on the other end of the line. “You know I don’t mean it like that, but I don’t want to waste any time finding food in an airport when I land. I want to be there now.”

My cheeks flush at his words. I want him here, too. We’ve been waiting far too long to be reunited. “Well, in that case, I’m sure I can rustle something up to keep you satisfied.”

I can’t be certain, but I’m sure I hear him growl. I bite the tip of my thumbnail between my teeth and my thighs squeeze together all on their own.

“My flight is boarding,” he says, coughing to clear his throat. “I’ll see you soon, darling.”

Darling.

The word my ears most long to hear.

I already have Henry’s favourite meal waiting to go in the oven, of course. A Shepherd’s pie I prepared myself with local lamb and rosemary potatoes. He occasionally mentions how much he misses it, and that he’s never found an acceptable substitute in New York City. Sometimes I taunt him with a photo of me cooking, and a tongue in cheek ‘if you want it you’ll have to come get it’ that we both know isn’t about the food.

We’ll be eating dinner a little later than usual, but I don’t mind when it means he’ll be here in the same room as me. I’ll just need to keep my hands to myself while he eats and settles in. He’ll be exhausted after such a long day of travelling, I’m sure, though he only has himself to blame for that.

He only decided to come back two days ago, amidst several confessions of longing, meaning the only flights left to London connected via Europe. Thankfully, things have gone smoothly in Amsterdam and my heart can relax a little further knowing he’s one journey closer.

The last of the December sun is creeping low on the horizon, painting the living room in a golden haze. I set about transforming the place for the evening, flicking on lamps and lighting the scented candles on the coffee table.

Even though we're only staying for a short time, I wanted to make an effort for Henry. To give him a proper Christmas rather than one alone in his high-rise Manhattan apartment with takeout for dinner and the TV for company like last year.

I always go over the top with decorations here at the cottage. A forest of bottle-brush Christmas trees sit in a row on the mantlepiece, above knitted stockings adorned with our initials. There's a wreath on the door, and paper-chains hung from the ceiling, with plenty more to make.

Lights twinkle on the spruce I picked up from a nearby Christmas tree farm yesterday. While watching a film, I draped it with baubles and fairy lights; the tempo set to alternating twinkles. Simple and elegant, just how I like it.

This year has been anything but simple. We’ve spent it apart, with me living and working in London and him in New York. Even though he’s always been just a phone call away, day or night, that doesn’t mean we haven’t been dealing with enormous change. We desperately need this precious time to reconnect, just the two of us, without outside influences demanding our time and energy.

I’m more nervous than I’ve let on, and much too fidgety to concentrate. I try to get comfortable in the armchair and read a book, but the words blur on the page. I consider a movie, but there’s a strong chance I’ll fall asleep, and I’d hate to look like a mess when he arrives.My phone buzzes on the dining table and I rush to grab it.

Henry: Just collected car. See you soon.

It’s a thirty-minute drive without traffic, and there shouldn’t be any at this hour. I do a sweep of the house to make sure everything is in order, even though I know it is. It’s been a couple of months since anyone has stayed here, so I spent the day cleaning and freshening things up.

There are crisp, clean linens on the beds, the log basket by the fireplace is full, and the fridge brimming with ingredients for a Christmas feast. The wine rack is well stocked and, with the weather forecast predicting the first white Christmas in years, there’s nothing left to do but hunker down and get reacquainted.