The bus skidded suddenly, tyres slipping on the icy road before crashing into a snowdrift with a dull, muffled thud. My breath caught, the jolt making my heart lurch in my chest. We hadn’t been going fast, but the impact was still enough to set my nerves alight. Around me, the handful of passengers sat wide-eyed and frozen as the bus came to an unsteady halt. The engine sputtered to silence, leaving us wrapped in an eerie stillness. Outside, a thick blanket of snow absorbed every sound.
My eyes were unfocused, staring blankly ahead for a moment before blinking myself back to reality. I glanced around the dim interior, my pulse still pounding. My eyes settled on the man sitting a few rows across from me. “You okay?” He asked, concerned. He had dark, slightly tousled hair that seemed effortlessly styled, and deep-set eyes that held a spark of intrigue. His broad shoulders filled out the thick Parka he wore, flecked with remnants of snow from the storm outside, and his fitted jeans and leather boots showed a man who was both practical and knew how to dress. The faint scruff on his jawline gave him an air of someone who didn’t try too hard to impress yet managed to capture attention effortlessly.
I nodded back, voice trembling slightly, and not just from the shock of the crash. “I think so.”
There were only a few of us on the bus: an older couple, huddled close to one another in their seats; two teenage girls clutching their bags tightly; and a couple of men, probably in their thirties, quietly reassuring each other. Everyone looked rattled but unhurt.
The driver clambered out of his seat, his cheeks red and his expression sheepish. “Well,” he said, his voice breaking the heavy silence, “at least we’re all okay. There’s a pub about 800 metres up ahead. Shall we make for it?”
No one argued. The cold crept into the bus through the doors, biting at my hands and face. One by one, we filed out into the frosty night. The man fell into step beside me as we trudged up the road, our breath misting in the cold air. I tried to shake off the lingering tension, glancing over at him. “Well,” I said, aiming for light-hearted, “this wasn’t how I planned to spend my evening.”
The man chuckled softly, a low, warm sound that made the cold seem a little less biting. My own shiver reminded me how poorly I’d dressed for the weather. A thin hoodie over a strappy top and jeans was no match for the biting wind. I clenched my arms around myself, my teeth chattering.
Without a word, the man shrugged off his large parka and draped it around my shoulders. “Better?” he asked with a grin.
I looked up at him, startled by the gesture, but grateful all the same. “Thanks,” I murmured, pulling the coat tighter around me. It was far too big, but the warmth was immediate and soothing. We continued walking, the icy road treacherous underfoot.
The man offered his hand as we reached a particularly slippery patch. His leather boots seemed to handle the conditions better than my converse trainers, which slipped and slid with every step. I hesitated only a moment before taking his hand, his grip steady and reassuring. Snow flecked his woollen jumper, the cold painting his cheeks a faint pink.
When we finally reached the pub, the warmth spilling out from its open door felt like a blessing. The first few passengers had already entered, and we heard a collective sigh of relief as they reached the fire. Inside, the landlord and landlady greeted us with a mix of concern and curiosity, clearly caught off guard by the sudden influx of stranded travellers.
I glanced at the man, my shivering worse now that I’d stopped moving. “I don’t know about you,” I said, teeth chattering, “but I could use a drink.”
“Something strong,” I added quickly.
He chuckled and made his way to the bar. A moment later, he returned with two glasses of whiskey, the amber liquid catching the light from the fire. “The landlord says it’s on the house,” he said, setting one glass in front of me.
“Thank you,” I said, my hands wrapping around the glass. He led me to a small table near the fire, and I rushed to it, opening his coat to catch every bit of the flames’ warmth. My face began to thaw, the heat chasing away the lingering cold.
The man took the seat opposite me, watching me as I slowly relaxed. I sipped the whiskey, the heat spreading through me in waves. I realised I’d been so focused on the chaos, I hadn’t even introduced myself. Before I could say anything, the landlady’s voice rose above the murmurs.
“The roads are iced over,” she announced, hands on her hips. “No one’s going anywhere tonight. We’ve got blankets and rooms upstairs. You’ll all stay here.”
As she moved around the room, distributing keys, I realised she’d assumed we were a couple, handing the man a single key before moving on. I opened my mouth to correct her, but he held up a hand.
“I’ll take the sofa,” he said easily, giving me a reassuring smile.
I nodded, lifting the glass to my lips. The whiskey’s warmth didn’t stop my mind from wandering. As I glanced at him, I couldn’t help but wonder how much warmer it would be to snuggle into him instead.
He must have noticed me watching him because he chuckled softly. “I’m Tom, by the way.”
“Katie,” I replied.
“Nice to meet you,” He said, smiling softly as I leaned back in my chair. His gaze drifted down to my hand, noticing the wedding ring for the first time. It made him pause for a moment. “You looked cute in that,” he added with a grin, nodding to his large coat I was still huddled into, trying to keep the conversation light.
I shrugged out of it, and handed it back to him, along with a faint trace of my perfume that now clung to the fabric. “Thanks for letting me borrow it,” I said.
He smiled as he draped the coat over the arm of his chair. “And now you’re stuck here with me, eh?”
I took a sip of my drink, raising my eyebrows. “I can think of worse places to be stuck.”
Tom gave me a conspiratorial smile, his glass catching the flickering light from the fire as he took another sip. There was a spark in his gaze, one that sent a warm ripple through me. “Another drink?” he asked, his voice low, inviting.
“Mmm, yes, please,” I replied, my cheeks feeling warm from more than just the whiskey. “Then I might go check out our room.”
He smirked, leaning forward slightly. “Same again, or something a little longer to take up with you?”
I laughed softly. “I do like them long.”
His grin widened. “Good to know.” He stood, nodding toward the bar. “How about a bottle of wine, and I come up with you?”
I tilted my head, pretending to consider it for a moment. “Sounds delightful.” I knew what I was doing. I couldn’t help it. I wanted this man and I was pretty sure he wanted me too.
I waited as he selected a bottle of wine, and then we made our way upstairs. The narrow corridor was dimly lit, shadows dancing on the old walls. As we climbed the stairs, I couldn’t help but feel his gaze lingering on me. I glanced back over my shoulder and caught him watching, his expression making it clear he wasn’t thinking about the weather outside. If I swayed my ass more than I normally would as I ascended the stairs, sue me.
Reaching the door, I fumbled with the old brass key, trying to fit it into the lock. Tom leaned against the wall, towering over me, his grin cheeky and suggestive. “Don’t you hate it when you can’t get it in?” he teased.
I raised an eyebrow, glancing back at him. “I find if you just jiggle it a bit, it usually slips in just fine.”
The door clicked open, and I turned to him with a smirk. He followed me inside, his presence filling the small space as I stepped into the room. There was a double bed, a small desk and chair, a big armchair in the corner, and a tiny bathroom tucked away to the side.
“Well,” I said, looking around, “how about that wine?”
Tom poured two glasses and handed one to me. Just as I took it, the power flickered out, plunging us into darkness. For a moment, the only light came from the snow reflecting faintly through the window. I felt his hand on my hip, steadying me. “You okay?” he asked softly.
“Yeah,” I replied, my voice quieter now. “I can’t see shit, though.”
He continued to talk calmly, “Just wait. Your eyes will adjust.”
I stayed calm, following his lead and stepping closer to him in the darkness. My chest brushed against his, and I could feel his slow, steady breathing against me. As our bodies drifted together in the dark, I heard the quiet clink of him setting his glass down. I did the same, my hands instinctively reaching for him.
Tom’s hand cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing softly over my skin. The warmth of his touch sent a thrill through me. His other hand rested on my hip, holding me close. In the silence, I could hear nothing but our synced breathing, our chests rising and falling together.
I had never felt like this. So drawn to someone. My mind filled with thoughts of my husband.
“Tom…” I whispered, tilting my face up toward his.
“Shh,” he murmured, leaning in. His lips brushed mine, a gentle, tentative touch that left me breathless.
It was so wrong but… I couldn’t stop myself.
Just as I leaned into him, a knock at the door startled us apart. Tom’s hands fell away, and he stepped back. He opened the door to find the landlady, her arms full of candles and matches. She offered them briskly, clearly trying to get round to everyone.
When the door closed again, Tom lit the candles, their flickering glow filling the room with a soft, golden light. He turned back to face me, and stopped short.
Our moment had been interrupted, I knew I was on the edge, I could walk away, do nothing wrong. But I knew I didn;t want that, not really, so I took a bold step. In the dark while he lit the candle I unzipped my hoodie, throwing it to the floor and pulling off my strappy white top too.
When he turned I was standing there with bare skin catching the dim light from the candle, my cheeks flushed from both warmth and nerves.
He approached me, slowly pulling off his jumper and T-shirt, revealing a lean, strong frame. His eyes never left mine. I felt my breath catch as he stood before me, towering slightly.
He cupped my face again, both hands cradling me with a tenderness that made my heart race. His voice dropped to a whisper, low and warm. “Yes?” he asked softly.
“Please,” I breathed, my lip catching between my teeth as I stared up at him, waiting.
The candlelight flickered softly, casting shadows on the walls as Tom leaned in, tilting my face towards his. His lips met mine in a kiss that was tender at first, gentle and exploring. His fingers threaded through my hair, holding me in place as the kiss deepened, unhurried and languid, as though the world beyond this room no longer existed. There was nowhere else to be but here, together.
I sighed into his mouth, my body responding instinctively to his touch. A soft moan escaped me as his kiss grew more insistent, his desire spilling into every movement. My hands found the buckle of his belt, fumbling slightly as I worked to undo it, the metal clinking faintly in the quiet room.
I felt his cock hardening against me, pressing through the fabric that still separated us. His fingers grazed down my throat, their touch firm yet delicate. I felt my wedding ring brush against his skin as my hand moved lower, a fleeting reminder of how wrong this was, but his groan of desire banished any doubts.
Finally, I unfastened his belt, tugging his trousers down, the fabric gathering round his feet. Our kiss was still consuming me so I couldn’t see what I had uncovered, but I didn’t need to. My hands reached out instinctively, exploring the hard, hot length of him. My touch was slow at first, tentative, as I familiarised myself with the feel of him.
Tom groaned again, the sound low and guttural, and I felt a thrill run through me. Emboldened, I wrapped my hand around him. As my excitement grew, I broke the kiss, looking down at what I was doing.
My strokes quickened, my hand moving more confidently along his length. The heat of him, the weight in my hand, and the quiet gasps he made fuelled my desire.
My wedding ring caught the light as my hand stroked up and down his thick shaft. We had barely spoken a word, but the connection and passion were undeniable.
Leaning down, my tongue flicked out, tasting his tip, savouring the salty bead of precum that glistened there. I smiled up at him, mischief lighting my eyes. “You taste different from my husband,” I murmured, watching the way he reacted to both my words and my actions. It was clear he was enjoying the forbidden nature of what we were doing, his gaze repeatedly drawn to my fingers and the ring that circled one of them.
“Tonight, you’re all mine,” he whispered, his lips curling into a smile.
I nodded as I wrapped my lips around his tip, my tongue flicking him gently, teasing. Looking up at him, I saw the hunger in his eyes, the silent plea for more.
He grinned. “Show me what you can do,” he challenged, his tone playful yet commanding.
I slid forward, taking him into my mouth inch by inch, savouring every moment. One of my hands was wrapped tightly around the base of his cock, the other pressed against his abs. Brushing my hair from my face, he gathered it into a loose ponytail, his voice rumbling with approval. “Mmm, good girl,” he murmured.
I began to bob up and down, each motion deliberate, my eyes locked on his so he could see the enjoyment in my gaze, the way I revelled in every sound and reaction he gave. My pace quickened as I grew more eager, more desperate to please. The wet sounds of my lips and tongue working against him filled the room, broken only by his soft gasps and low groans. Occasionally, I gagged slightly as I pushed myself to take more of him, but I never pulled away.
“Oh, fuck,” he groaned, his voice thick with lust. “You’re a greedy little thing. You love a thick cock in your mouth, don’t you?” His words sent a fresh wave of heat through me, and I hummed contentedly in response, the vibrations adding to his pleasure.
He began to rock his hips, testing my limits, pushing himself deeper. I took all he gave, my eagerness matched by his increasing need. Saliva dripped from my chin as I worked harder, more fervently, my eyes filled with lust and desire. His hand tightened in my hair as he held me down, my lips pressed against the base of his cock.
“Push your tongue along me,” he instructed, his thumb brushing against my cheek. I obeyed, my tongue tracing along his length even as I gagged slightly, refusing to pull away.
Gripping my ponytail, his arm bulged with effort as he started to move again, fucking my mouth with a steady rhythm. My throat adjusted as best it could, and I hummed in pleasure, sending shivers through him. Watching me, he revelled in my eagerness, the way I gave myself fully to the moment.
It was never like this with my husband, so wonton, so dirty, both of us so full of need and desire.
Just as his breaths grew ragged and I felt him reaching the edge, he pulled me off, groaning as he stared down at me, saliva and precum, dribbling off my chin. Panting heavily, he tilted my face back up to his and kissed me hard, his tongue finding mine in an urgent dance.
Breaking the kiss, he guided me back onto the bed, his hands sliding up my thighs. The fabric of my jeans brushed against my sex, a teasing pressure that left me aching for more.
Unhurriedly, he unbuttoned my jeans, hooking his fingers into the waistband of both them and my pants. In one smooth motion, he pulled them down, discarding them to the side. As he did, he felt my phone in the pocket and tossed it onto the bed beside me, his focus entirely on what came next.
I lay on the bed, waiting for him, the anticipation coursing through me like an electric current. My pussy lips glistened, the candlelight reflecting off the wet surfaces.
I could feel the weight of his intent as his hands began to explore, gliding up my thighs, spreading my legs gently, and leaning in closer. His gaze was magnetic, drawn to the wetness between my legs, his tongue flicking out over his lips as though in reflex, anticipation matching my own.
Leaning in, he let his lips brush against the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. The kisses were slow, deliberate, teasing. They trailed upward, over the curve of my hip, and higher still, his breath warm against my skin, leaving a tingling trail in its wake. His fingertips followed, tracing soft patterns across my stomach as I trembled beneath his touch.
A low growl of approval rumbled in his chest, his arms sliding up to hold my thighs firmly in place. He looked up at me, his voice rough yet calm. “Call him,” he said, his breath brushing against me as he hovered, his tongue tantalisingly close to my glistening lips.
I understood immediately, reaching for my phone with shaking hands. As I dialed my husband, the juxtaposition of the moment sent a thrill through me. The line connected, and I fought to steady my voice. “Hi, love,” I said, keeping my tone calm. “The bus had an accident. Nothing serious, but we’re stranded.” As I spoke, Tom’s tongue dragged slowly along my slit, his deliberate motions sending shockwaves through my body. My free hand gripped the sheets, and I bit down on my lip to stifle a moan, my voice tightening.
“An accident? Are you alright?” my husband’s concerned voice came through.
“I’m fine,” I managed, forcing a smile into my words. “They’ve put us in rooms for the night. The roads aren’t safe to drive.” As I spoke, Tom’s lips closed over my clit, his tongue circling lazily, teasingly, forcing me to suppress another sound by biting the inside of my cheek.
“I could come and get you,” he offered, his tone filled with concern.
“No need,” I replied quickly, my thighs trembling as Tom’s tongue pressed firmly, his hands holding me still. “It’s better to wait it out here. I’ll be home tomorrow.” A faint cough escaped me as I disguised a moan, my body betraying how close I was to losing control.
“Alright. I’m glad you’re safe. I love you,” he said, his words twisting something deep inside.
“I love you too,” I managed, ending the call just as a long, low moan escaped me, no longer held back. The phone fell from my hand as Tom’s relentless rhythm built, his growl vibrating against me, pushing me closer to the edge.
His tongue circled lazily around my clit, exploring, teasing. My body began to move in rhythm with his, my thighs trembling against his hold. I cried out softly, my hands flying to his hair. His tongue pulsed and pressed against me, relentless and unyielding. He pinned me still, holding my thighs firmly, building the intensity until my breaths turned into gasps. “Fuck,” I whimpered, the word falling from my lips as my body arched in response.
His growls grew deeper as I rolled my nipples between my fingers, releasing jolts of pleasure straight through me. I bucked my hips against him, but he held me firmly, adjusting his rhythm to match my movements, his tongue pressing and lashing with unerring precision. My moans grew louder, more desperate.
“Oh God, yes,” I gasped, the words tumbled from my lips unbidden. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.” My voice quivered with desperation, my body trembling beneath his unrelenting attention.
My thighs clenched reflexively around his head, but his firm grip held me open, his mouth working tirelessly. I could feel the tension coiling inside me, building with every stroke of his tongue and every firm press of his lips.
“Cum for me,” he murmured, his words rough yet tender, spoken against my most sensitive spot.
His voice sent shivers down my spine, and my body obeyed instinctively. The tension snapped like a taut string, and a tidal wave of pleasure crashed over me. I cried out, my back arching as the orgasm claimed me, raw and unfiltered. “Oh, fuck, oh, fuck,” I gasped, my voice breaking with the intensity. My thighs trembled uncontrollably as my juices gushed, spilling against his lips.
Still, he didn’t stop. His mouth continued its merciless rhythm, tasting, teasing, and coaxing every last aftershock from me. He growled softly, the sound vibrating through me, reigniting sparks of pleasure even as I trembled in the aftermath.
When the waves of my climax finally subsided, I collapsed against the bed, my chest heaving, my body quaking with the lingering echoes of ecstasy. He lifted his gaze to meet mine, his face glistening, his expression a mix of satisfaction and hunger. In the flickering candlelight, he looked almost primal, his strong frame still leaning over me. A promise of more to come.
