The night air was bitterly cold. It was the first week of December, but this was the sort of weather Alex associated with the depths of winter.
She didn’t care one bit.
Two months ago, on a whim, she’d gone leaf peeping, a guided hike for “city folk” led by Harper. They’d spent every weekend since that one together, and now, tonight, the two women were cuddled together, standing at a chest-high barrel table beneath zigzagging fairy lights, listening to a band perform a mix of standards and holiday songs on a stage somewhere near the temporary skating rink. The Christmas Market was overwrought and overcrowded, and Alex was having the best night of her life.
Every night she’d spent with Harper had been a new “best of her life” night.
It might also have been the steaming, fragrant mulled wines they’d been sampling since arriving. At some point, they’d decided they were going to sample every one on the menu, and while Alex wasn’t regretting it yet, she knew she would be in the morning.
“Another round?” Harper asked, her sun-kissed cheeks practically glowing. From the cold? From the wine? From the company? All of it, Alex decided.
“We should go. I’m so cold I can’t feel my toes!”
Harper laughed softly and threw her thick woollen poncho over Alex’s shoulders as well, drawing Alex into a cosy tent that smelled like woods, smoke, and Harper. “Should’ve worn real boots, City Girl,” she teased gently.
Alex glanced down at her heeled ankle boots with the shiny silver buckles that had looked so cute in the store. “They’re perfectly practical! They’re waterproof!”
Harper didn’t reply with words, just that low, thrummy sound she made deep in her throat whenever she chose to let Alex enjoy a fantasy about life outdoors. Alex was about to protest when she felt Harper’s hand sneaking first up under her coat, then beneath the waist of Alex’s stretch corduroys. How drunk was Harper? … how drunk was she? Maybe “drunk enough”?
“Harper!” she hissed softly. “People will see—”
“Lexi?” The voice sent a chill down Alex’s spine. Andy!
Alex looked up, blushing furiously, noting the way Harper’s questing fingertips had suddenly stilled. “Andy?” she said, incredulous, hoping she didn’t sound too wicked.
Andy. Until September, she and Andy had lived together. Had been a couple since they were high school juniors. Everyone they knew “knew” they were going to get married and raise a family someday.
Until they weren’t. Until Alex figured out why she didn’t want that. Andy was sweet and kind and caring and would only ever be the star of his own story. There’d never be space for Alex. So she left.
And then she met Harper.
Harper only wanted Alex to be the star of her own story.
Who was the woman with Andy?
“Lexi?” felt, rather than heard, Harper ask softly in her ear. Those impossibly warm fingers had resumed their adventure beneath Alex’s waistband.
“Lexi!” Andy seemed genuinely overjoyed at the chance encounter. He manoeuvred himself and his female companion through the crowd, then bellied up to the barrel table Alex and Harper had half-filled with earthenware cups. He gave them only the briefest, but still judgemental, glance. “How are you?”
Alex grew cold at the same time a heat was building below. Thanks to Harper. “H-hey, Andy! H-hi! Merry Christmas!” The last bit came out a little shrill as Harper’s fingers somehow found their way beneath the waist of Alex’s panties, all very hidden by the dim light and the thick, warm poncho slung over them both. Alex still felt fully on display.
“Merry Christmas!” Andy responded almost on instinct. “I, um, heard you had a new … friend?” Poor Andy, he was trying so hard, and he was so unprepared for this. He awkwardly shot a hand out toward Harper. “Andy Travis! Alex’s … Alex and me … I was … hi!”
Harper fixed him with the smile Alex had come to recognise as the one she reserved for the greenest of the city folk who signed up for her hikes. “Harper. Ellison. I’m a park ranger up in Foxlight Highlands State Park. Nice to meet you, Andy.” She practically purred his name as her fingertips found the top of Alex’s dense pubic curls. She gave Andy’s hand a firm shake, then turned her attention to the woman at his side. The intense, attentive look Harper gave this other woman filled Alex with a tiny flare of jealousy. “We haven’t met, I’m Lexi’s girlfriend. You can call me Harper.”
The pretty woman at Andy’s side looked nearly scandalised at the open admission, but recovered herself admirably. She took Harper’s offered hand, gave it a light squeeze, and said softly, “Lindsey. Lindsey Hartwell.”
Harper smiled in an almost predatory manner. “Hi, Lindsey. It’s really fuckin’ cold tonight, huh?”
They made small talk for hours—or so it felt to Alex. Andy kept pretending to be nice, his bland, hollow persona he used around new people on full display; polished and superficial, like a bowl of cold oatmeal that looked comforting but lacked any real warmth or substance.
But Alex was too lost in Harper’s secret touch beneath the heavy poncho to dwell on it. Harper was relentless. The moment she had understood the dynamic, her fingers slipped past the waistband of Alex’s pants, teasing and firm, igniting a molten heat that spread through her body. Every slow, deliberate stroke made her gasp softly, her knees trembling as she struggled to keep her composure.
While Alex, Andy, and Lindsey made small talk, Harper’s hand persisted, unashamed—her fingertips exploring with unyielding purpose, driving Alex to the edge of control. Harper alternated between dipping her index finger deep, deep inside Alex, curling and petting the most sensitive ridges along her “front”, and pinching and twisting her sensitive little nubbin at the top of her pussy. Each touch sent shivers down her spine, her breath hitching as desire pooled painfully low, threatening to drown her in a wave of pleasure she could barely contain.
Harper was revelling in every sensation, her pleasure raw and unmistakable. Alex knew she’d make Harper apologise later—once they were alone—but right now, she was equally consumed, her body trembling under Harper’s electric touch, drowning in the heat, the shame, and the overwhelming rush of desire.
“Y’know what?” Harper suddenly announced, voice loud and unapologetic, enough to turn a few heads at nearby tables. “I’m really sorry, but I think I’ve had too much mulled wine. It’s so good, I just—” She fixed Andy with a look that was half-challenge, half-confession. “I gotta go.”
Her hand was still deep inside Alex’s pants, her middle finger still buried inside her, insistent and sure.
“No!” Alex shot back, sharp and desperate, voice trembling on the edge of protest.
Harper knew with complete certainty, there had never been, nor would there ever be, anyone more perfect for her.
“No,” Alex repeated, voice steadier this time; though Harper was flexing her finger, tormenting those sensitive spots inside her with slow, deliberate teasing. “You can’t drive! I have to take you home. I promised, Andy. Nice to meet you, Lindsey.”
Alex’s toes clenched inside her impractical but irresistibly cute boots as Harper curled her finger again, pressing hard before slowly dragging it out, savouring every second. Alex hoped she wasn’t whimpering, but she really couldn’t tell. Harper knew exactly what to do to send her spiralling over the edge—she was just holding on by a thread.
“You’re such a horny bitch!” Alex hissed, straddling Harper in the pick-up truck as the engine rumbled and the windshield fogged behind her. Alex was naked from the waist down, but the interior of Harper’s truck was warm, inviting, and thick with anticipation. “We could’ve gotten arrested!”
Harper chuckled softly, her fingers curling around Alex’s most sensitive spots again, teasing and demanding. “Your boyfriend and his new girl are going home wishing they were us,” she murmured, her lips brushing Alex’s ear. She stretched lazily, offering her lips as an invitation, eyes hungry.
Alex glared for a moment, then burst into a breathless, heated laugh. “No more stuff that’d get us arrested,” she said, trembling with need. Some nights were just for her—nights where she surrendered entirely to Harper’s touch. She pressed down hard on Harper’s fingers, desperate for the release Harper owed her, body trembling with anticipation.
Harper nipped lightly at Alex’s neck, her voice low, sultry. “I wanna meet this ‘Lexi’, I bet she’s hot.”
