“Don’t.”
I whimpered because I knew he liked it. “Please.”
“I’ll get the cuffs if I have to.”
“Would you really cuff me when I’m injured?”
“Hell yes. I’d do it for your own fucking safety.”
“I want you to hold me down instead. I want to feel your hands around my wrists. I want bruises there.”
“Fuck, Devil.”
“You know you want that too.”
He groaned, and I knew I was right. “I’ll be fine.”
“Put your arms down by your sides.”
When I did, he walked on his knees to position himself, and I watched the heavy weight of his cock and balls swing between his legs. I needed him inside me.
“Wrap your legs around me.”
“Gladly.”
“How does that feel?” he asked once I had his hips clamped between my thighs.
“Fucking great.” I sighed dramatically.
“Don’t lie to me, Devil.”
“I’m not. I swear.”
“If this position puts pressure on your side—”
“It doesn’t, and the pillow helps.”
“If I find out you were hurting and didn’t stop me, I won’t fuck you again for a week.”
“Like you could go that long.”
Joe drove into me then. The pressure was intense, amazing, delightful. I wanted more. I wanted him to let go and fuck me hard, but as I suspected he would, he tormented me with slow, careful strokes.
“Fuck me like you mean it,” I demanded.
Joe’s hands clamped around my wrists when I tried to reach for him. “Is this what you want? Do you want me to pin you down? Do you want me to keep you still? Do you want me to save you from yourself?”
“Jesus, yes, and I want you to make me come. I want your cock in me, splitting me open. I want you to fill me with your cum. I want to be yours.”
“You are mine, Devil. Always. Fucking forever.” He pressed my arms to the floor. It felt so good to be restrained by him as he fucked me harder. I saw him watching me, making sure the skin around my wound wasn’t being pulled too tight against my stitches.
“I can handle it. You can sew me back up. I don’t care.”
“I care. I won’t have you hurting yourself.”
“My dick hurts. What about that? Make me come, Joe.”
“God, you are—”
“Hot, desperate, so in love with you I don’t know what to do.”
He let go of one of my wrists and began jacking me off as he fucked me harder.
“Come for me. Show me how much you love being skewered on my dick, held down by me, used by me.”
I cried out, lifting my hips. Pain shot through my side. I worried I had torn something, but there was no way I could stop the rush of my release. My hips jerked again and again as cum shot over me. Then Joe growled, low and rough, as he thrust deep once more. I felt the hot flood of his seed inside me.
He hung over me, panting, for a few moments. The room spun around me, and the lights on the tree seemed to dance. “I knew you’d fuck me like this if I tried to martyr myself for you.”
Joe looked down at me and shook his head. “You are too much.”
“No, I’m just enough for you.”
He looked down at my injured side and stroked the skin just below the stitches.
“Did everything hold?” I asked.
“Yes, but we can’t do that again until you’re more healed.”
“We’ll find other fun things to do, but we both needed that.”
“We sure as hell did.” Joe got a cloth to clean me up and then he lay down beside me, and we both marveled at how beautiful the tree looked in the waning light. I picked up my hat, which had fallen off while he’d pounded my ass, and set it on his head.
He rolled his eyes, but he didn’t take it off. “You know we couldn’t have fucked like this back home, right?”
Joe sighed. “I know.”
“You liked laying me out in front of the tree and being as loud as you wanted to be.”
“Yes. You’re right. We need our own house. It’s time.”
“That’s good, because—Oh shit.”
“What’s wrong?” Joe asked.
“We were supposed to be caroling now, and there were going to be cookies.”
“I’m sorry taking out a serial killer prevented you from eating more cookies.”
I sighed dramatically. “It’s not your fault, but if I could resurrect Donaldson and kill him again, I would.”
“Because of the cookies?”
“No, because he came after you. If he’d hurt you—”
“Devil, you’re the one who got shot.”
I shrugged. “I’m fine, and now that he’s gone, you can finally focus on enjoying everything I have planned for us.”
“I’ve been plenty focused on what we’ve done so far.”
“I suppose that’s true, but now you can forget everything but me and holiday fun.”
“Could we just stay in bed for a day… or two?”
I frowned. “Did you lose your taste for the snow? If that bastard—”