Snow buffeted the little cottage, swirling around it and drifting against the doors. Even so, Monica was snug and happy inside the kitchen. Surrounded by bowls and spoons and bags and boxes of ingredients she was determined to make a cake. As she bent over the recipe she had clipped from a magazine, a stray bit of hair tickled her nose and she batted it away, leaving a smudge of flour behind. She was on a mission.
Twelve-oh-one that morning, Andrew had woken her from a sound sleep just to wish her a happy Valentine’s day and tell her how much he loved her. He had been taking a chance on her even being at the cottage and the happiness in his voice had been unmistakable, even to her sleepy ears. His assignment was due to end the next day and he promised that he would be there to spend their first Valentine’s day as husband and wife.
She had barely been able to fall back to sleep with plans for the next day running through her head. There would be soft music and a fire, and she would run down to the town to pick up dinner from their favorite restaurant. She even had the perfect nightgown. It was dark red and flowed to the ground. She had bought it especially for the occasion on the chance that they would be together to celebrate.
Blinking her eyes open to snow blowing against the windows had put a small damper on those plans. There was no way she wold be able to make it into town but she was undaunted. Even though she had never cooked an entire meal she was determined to at least make the attempt. She had scoured the house for any type of cookbook and had instead found four issues of Better Homes and Gardens magazine. Plenty of recipes, and she had quickly picked out the easiest sounding ones.
That was how she came to be happily puttering around the kitchen, with chicken defrosting on the counter and an eggbeater in her hand as she muddled her way through the preparations for chocolate cake. She was just about to start pouring the batter into pans when she sensed someone behind her and whirled around, beaming from ear to ear, and ready to throw her arms around her husband.
She was stopped short by the who she saw instead. "Tess? What are you doing here?" she asked, and then, realizing her tone, she continued, "I mean, it’s always wonderful to see you…"
"I know, baby, but not exactly who you were hoping for. I’m sorry, Monica, but we have to go."
"Go? She looked around the kitchen, her eyes wide. "I can’t just leave. Don’t you know that today is a holiday? And Andrew is going to be here for dinner. Look…" she held out the clipped recipes, "I’m making dinner and everything."
"I’m sorry, but you’re just going to have to leave it." Tess shook her head in regret but her expression remained firm.
"Tess…" The almost hard look that the older angel shot in her direction forestalled any further argument. Instead she untied her splattered apron and carefully draped it over a chair. Giving one last look around the room she hoped, for the first time, that Andrew wouldn’t return. An instant after turning back to Tess they were gone and the only sounds in the cottage were from the snow covered tree branches gently batting against the roof.
*****
When Andrew appeared in the living room he immediately called out Monica’s name, and then a moment later he realized that he couldn’t sense her anywhere in the house. Slowly he walked through the first floor and into the kitchen. Where most husbands would have been alarmed at the sight, to the angel it told a completely different story.
The cottage was a secluded and divinely protected spot and he knew that if Monica had been pulled away suddenly then it had been by the Father. As he surveyed the mess he couldn’t help but smile at the obvious effort she had been putting forth to make the night special for the two of them. Now he could only hope that she would be able to enjoy it with him.
*****
She materialized in precisely the same spot she had been standing before Tess had whisked her away, but the disarray she had left behind was only a distant memory. Everything was neat and clean, and only the nightlight above the stove illuminated the area. A little thrill went through her at the knowledge that Andrew was there, but at the same time tears pricked the backs of her eyes.
Yes, her assignment had been necessary and urgent. It had even had a happy ending. But it had also torn her away from the little piece of married life that she had been trying so hard to make perfect for the two of them. It was already midnight. Valentine’s day was over, and she had missed it.
She walked slowly out of the kitchen, wondering if Andrew was waiting for her in their bed or if he had already been called away again. She only had to take two steps into the living room to get her answer.
A fire crackled away in the fireplace, throwing light into the room which was otherwise illuminated only by the two tall, white candles that burned on the mantle and the series of red candles that lined the table behind the sofa. Almost without her knowing it, he slipped out of the corner and sidled up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist.
"Happy Valentine’s day, Monica," he whispered as he bent his head to kiss the side of her neck.
She spun around in his arms and quickly wrapped her own around his neck, pulling herself up to kiss him deeply, starting a fire in both of them. She pulled back then and looked up at him with a trace of sadness in her eyes.
"But it isn’t Valentine’s anymore. I missed it."
Andrew quickly pulled his watch from his pocket and held it up for her inspection. "Well, it just so happens that my watch stopped at eight o’clock. According to it we have several more hours left to celebrate."
She had a difficult time keeping her happy tears in check, but somehow she managed to do it as she hugged him tightly and said an extra prayer of thanks. "I love you so much," she said fiercely.
"I know, angel, and when I saw what you were planning…" he looked down into her eyes and traced her jawline with one finger. "It made me fall in love with you all over again."
"I’m sorry you got stuck cleaning up that big mess I made in the kitchen," she murmured.
"I didn’t mind one bit. In fact, I was even able to salvage part of it." He led her around the sofa and she saw a tray laid out with chocolate cake and strawberries and two glasses of champagne. "Don’t worry about the drinks," he said with a smile, "strictly non-alcoholic."
She gave him a wry little grin and then turned her attention back to the cake. "I can’t believe it actually came out looking like a cake!"
He chuckled as he leaned forward to cut a small piece. "Judging from the smell while it was cooking I think you’ll be even more impressed by the taste." He carefully held out a bite between his fingers and she met his gaze and then delicately took it from him, her tongue brushing over his fingers, lips lingering just a bit longer than necessary.
"Mmm… it really is good!" she said as she finally sat back. When he continued to simply stare at her she prodded, "Aren’t you going to try it?"
His lips were on hers an instant later, tongue running over them lightly before delving inside, tasting the lingering hint of chocolate mixed with the taste of her kiss. He was breathless before he pulled away.
"Yes," he said lowly as he moved his lips down her neck to her shoulder, "very good."
A light laugh escaped her but then his tongue along her ear stole her witty comeback and she let out a soft moan instead. Her hands moved to his shoulders and she tilted her head to give him better access. She could feel his smile against her neck and she closed her eyes on the feeling of bliss that suddenly washed over her.
As his lips made their way over every inch of exposed skin, his hands eagerly worked to expose more of it. The buttons on her blouse were soon parted and he cupped a breast in one hand while his other combed through her silky hair. She could already feel the moisture growing between her legs and her tender nipples were crying out for his attention. She let out a little groan and then her hands on his shoulders were pushing instead of pulling and he was looking at her in surprise as she squirmed her way out from under him.
"Don’t worry… I’m not going anywhere," she said slyly. She never dropped her eyes as she moved to kneel in front of him and she didn’t even have to touch him before he groaned, knowing exactly what she had planned.
Her mouth turned up in a satisfied grin and she slowly undid his pants and opened them just enough to free his already straining erection from his boxers. As usual, her fingers around him alone were enough to drive him mad, and when she lowered her mouth his hands clutched at the cushions and he let out a louder, more guttural groan.
She licked around him very delicately at first, teasing him to even greater hardness before she began taking him deeper into her mouth, her hand steadying him and stroking in rhythm. With every stroke she took him in a bit more, until she was completely surrounding him, and sucking gently, feeling him tightening from within, knowing that she was the one who could bring him to such levels of ecstasy. One more stroke was all it would have taken but suddenly his hands were in her hair, pulling her off, and a moment later he was picking her up by the waist and pulling her panties off from beneath her skirt on one motion. A second later and he was setting her down on his lap, sliding all the way into her pulsing and ready core.
She let out a little squeak of surprise followed by a long moan and he chuckled, the vibrations going straight through her and sending a lightening bolt of feeling to the little nub that his eager fingers had already sought out. Her hands tangled in his hair and she threw her head back when he leaned forward and sucked one nipple through the thin fabric of her bra.
"Please… please… take it off," she said desperately, and after another playful nibble she felt it falling away, along with her blouse.
His mouth was back less than a second later and his hands on her hips helped her set a rhythm that soon had them both gasping for air. The sensations were rippling through her body and the fluttering motion of his fingers against her was driving her higher and faster. Her inner muscles clenched around him and he called out her name and buried his face against her shoulder as he exploded into her, surging again and again. The feeling brought a scream to Monica’s lips and her release came as a giant wave, stealing her breath and leaving her limp in his arms as the aftershocks trembled through her.
When he finally released her, it was only long enough to strip off the rest of his clothing and carry her to the blanket that he spread in front of the fire. The flames flickered and sparked, their light a soft glow over her naked body and she could feel a blush rising through her as he stared at her. At last he seemed to have his fill, and turned to retrieve their glasses and the bowl of strawberries.
"This wasn’t anything like I planned," she said softly as she took a strawberry from his fingers. "I’m not even wearing what I was supposed to wear."
He chuckled low in his throat and cupped her face in one hand. "I can’t imagine anything you could put on making you look more beautiful than you do right now."
The blush deepened and she scooted closer to him and curled herself into his arms. "Thank you for a wonderful Valentine’s day," she whispered.
He bent his head to kiss her lightly. "Thank you for being my Valentine every day of the year."
He pushed the coffee table to the side and moved back so that they were leaning against the sofa, with his arm draped protectively around her and her head nestled against his shoulder. Her fingers lazily caressed the hard muscles of his chest and she let out a sigh of absolute contentment. She hardly noticed him shifting position as he reached over his shoulder and pulled a small package from beneath the sofa throw-pillow. He squeezed her slightly tighter to get her attention and when she opened her eyes she saw the black velvet box resting in his hand.
"Andrew!" she exclaimed. "What…"
"Go on and open it," he said, smiling.
Her smile lit up her face as she eagerly took the box and carefully opened it, letting out a little gasp as she did so. "But… but Andrew… I already have…" she held up her left hand for inspection, the engagement and wedding rings proudly displayed.
"Yes, I know, but I thought maybe your other hand was getting jealous."
His words brought tears to her eyes as she freed the ring from its bed of dark velvet and held it up to the light. A square-cut emerald twinkled in the light and the gold band was engraved with a vine that went all the way around. She looked up at him and he leaned down to kiss her cheek.
"Read the inscription," he whispered, and she turned the ring over and saw the delicate script inside ‘For my angel, my wife’.
The words completely undid her and she threw her arms around his chest with a tearful little sob.
"Hey, now! It isn’t supposed to make you cry!"
"I know," she murmured, "but you know how I am… I just can’t help it."
He kissed her again. "Yes, I know," he said with a grin. His hand wrapped around hers and he took the ring, then tenderly slipped it onto her right ring finger and raised it to his lips. "I love you, Monica… my beautiful wife… with all my heart."
She hugged him tightly and then abruptly pulled back. "Wait! Wait right there!" she exclaimed, then yanked the afghan from the back of the sofa, wrapped herself up in it and ran out of the room. Andrew was left watching her and chuckling at the sight of her trailing the wrap behind herself.
Her light footsteps running down the stairs alerted him to her return and he turned to see her run in, slightly breathless, with a pink tinge to her face. She was no longer wearing the afghan.
Instead her long, flowing red gown clung to every curve, the plunging neckline revealing just enough of her to tease. Her tousled hair spilled over her shoulders and the high color in her cheeks extended all the way down her neck. Andrew was speechless. She had skidded to a stop in the doorway, and now she walked slowly over him, feeling his eyes drinking her in. She sat back down beside him and tucked her legs beneath herself, then turned to face him, looking almost shy.
"I have something for you too," she said as she held out a small satin draw-string bag.
"Angel, watching you walk in the room was the only gift I needed," he said huskily.
She blushed deeper and let out a little giggle. "Well this isn’t much," she explained almost apologetically, "nothing like what you gave me." She handed him the bag and waited breathlessly for him to open it.
Before he did he reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Monica, you could give me a rock from the front yard and I would think it was better than gold just because it came from you."
Her eyes were bright as she released a smile and then he turned his attention to the little bag and carefully eased it open. He tilted it to empty the contents, and a small, silver figure tumbled out onto his hand. He looked at it quizzically for a moment before holding it up. It was a miniature angel, with flowing gown, and outstretched arms, and she carried a heart with the word love etched onto it.
"I couldn’t exactly get you jewelry," she explained, "but I wanted you to have something from me to carry with you all the time. I thought, maybe, you could carry her in your pocket to remind you how much I love you. She sort of looks like me, I think." Monica was looking up at him expectantly, waiting for some word that he was pleased. She had never in a thousand years expected the gift he had given her and now the little angel seemed to pale in comparison.
Andrew curled his fingers around the figure and felt a knot forming in his throat. The thoughtfulness and depth of love that came from his wife never failed to astound him, but what was even more amazing was the fact that she so rarely saw it. He reached out and pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her and settling her onto his lap as he kissed her lovingly.
"Monica, she is perfect… absolutely perfect. But just for the record, I never need reminding, and I carry your love with me each and every day."
"So do I," she tilted her head up and kissed his strong jaw, then stretched her hand up to bring him down for a long, sensuous kiss.
Her hands stroked across his shoulders and then down his chest, brushing over his flat nipples, short nails trailing along hard muscles. He groaned into her mouth and captured her hands in one of his before moving to lie her back on the blanket. She instantly reached up for him but he gently pushed her hands away and leaned down to kiss her.
"Just lie back and close your eyes, angel. Feel everything I’m doing to you," he whispered into her ear, sending a shiver up her spine and a matching flutter deep in her stomach.
A contented smile settled about her lips and she let herself relax beneath his touch. However, as his hands stroked down her sides and over her silky gown she felt her body growing restless and needy for his touch. Her eyes slid open and met his and he seemed to read her mind as his hands stopped their wandering and settled over her full breasts, kneading them gently through the thin material and flicking at the hardened tips.
She let out a low moan and closed her eyes again while he kissed his way down her neck, burning a trail between her breasts and over her stomach. Her legs fell open as he neared the center of her passion and for once he didn’t tease although he was purposefully slow as he pushed her nightgown up over her hips, wanting her to feel every erotic touch.
"I love you, Andrew," she murmured and then her words became less distinct as he lowered his mouth to her center.
His tongue moved lazily along her silky folds, gently sucking and lapping at the delicate flesh, but carefully avoiding the barely hidden nub at the top. She began to move more restlessly and he briefly pulled away to kiss at her inner thighs and stroke the sensitive skin along her hips. He wanted her to feel everything, and not be rushed to completion. Her impatient sighs brought a smile to his face and when he returned to her core he slowly pressed two fingers inside and curled them upwards, causing her sighs to turn to breathless cries. His thumb circled the delicate button as he thrust firmly into her, striking that most sensitive spot every time. Her cries grew louder and he moved up her body but never stopped the motion of his hand.
"Whenever you’re ready," he whispered into her ear, then carefully took her earlobe between his teeth.
She cried out his name and her hips began to move frantically against him, but he could still feel her holding herself back. He dragged his free hand up her side and cupped one breast within it, then lightly tweaked the erect peak through the thin material of her gown. That was all it took.
With a breathless cry she released, her body clutching at his fingers and spilling her warmth over his hand. His name was repeated over and over again as he refused to stop stroking her until she fell a second, and then a third time, each one slightly less powerful but no less pleasurable.
As the third climax hit he quickly removed his fingers and slid the length of himself inside her pulsing walls. Seeing her lose control had brought him to the brink and the feeling of the aftershocks coursing through her had him losing control after only a few short strokes.
She had opened her eyes as she felt him entering her, and when he fell over the edge she reached up and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, bringing him down for a kiss that swallowed his shout.
Long minutes later she lay pillowed on his chest, still intimately joined with him as the afterglow washed over them both. She rested her chin on her folded hands and gazed lovingly into his face.
"This holiday really needs to be more than once a year," she said quietly.
His chuckle rumbled through his chest and he brushed the pad of his thumb along her cheek. "I may not be able to arrange that officially, but I think I can make you think it’s Valentine’s day any time you ask."
She gave him a little wink before closing her eyes and settling her ear above his heart. "That would work."