Our pillow barricade was never reinstated, so it’s not that hard to climb on top of him and demand his full attention. “Please, tell me what you want. I want to get you something that will make you happy.”
“You already make me happy. Just let me have you.”
“But you already have me,” I whine. “And you can’t unwrap me.”
“I could unwrap you if you’d let me…” he rasps, hand slipping under my T-shirt to tickle across my stomach.
I can feel him growing hard between my thighs and every thought about distractions and conflict of interest instantly leaves my head.
Four weeks doesn’t seem long in the grand scheme of things, but the more I’ve got to know him, the more I’ve wanted to climb him like a tree. There is something about learning the tough, muscular hockey player’s favorite movie isCoco.
It does funny things to your insides.
When I hold my arms up in the air, he sits up and pulls the T-shirt over my head. His brown eyes darken and the heat of his gaze travels over me, sending a jolt of anticipation up my spine. My bra goes next, his tongue immediately flicking over my already taut nipple. Traveling up my chest, he kisses his way to my mouth, grasping my face between his hands.
“We breaking all the rules?” he asks against my mouth. There’s hardly any room between us and I swear this is the most content I’ve felt in weeks.
“Definitely.”
Finally, his mouth meets mine, tongue exploring fervently as my hips develop a mind of their own and grind against him. Each swirl of my hips sends the most addictive wave of pleasure through me.
“God, I’ve missed you.” His teeth nip at my bottom lip, voice low and strained. “I’m not going to last if you keep doing that to me.”
“Tell me what you want for Christmas or I won’t let you come at all,” I tease, reaching between us to grip him through his boxers. His shocked chuckle is instantly replaced with a low, throaty moan as I rub up and down. “Come on, Hawkins, just one little Christmas present.”
“I don’t know!” My back hits the mattress as he flips us over, his hard body hovering over mine. He works his way down my body, stopping to lick and kiss every spot until his mouth is hovering right over the damp spot on my panties. He frowns as he looks up from the spot between my thighs, tugging at the lace. “These are in the way.”
The second his mouth is on me I’m climbing, back arching from the bed, grinding into his face. Desperate, needy cries that he doesn’t seem to give a shit about ring out as he takes his time, sucking my throbbing clit into his mouth. I can’t take it. The pleasure rolls through me; a pleased grumble vibrates in his throat as his tongue pierces me, sending me tumbling over the edge, crying his name.
You’d think that’d be enough for him to relent, but it’s not. He locks his arms around my legs, pinning me in position, gripping me tighter when the oversensitive and overstimulated aching has me trying to squirm away. The sensation is too much, and if my back arches off the bed any more, I swear I will snap. It’s been weeks of just me and the shower head, so watching him bury his head between my legs
and devour me, moaning happily, is more than I can handle.
“One more, baby.”
And, of course, my body does whatever he says.
“Clever girl,” he coos, climbing back up my body, brushing the hair from my damp forehead. I push his boxers down, letting his dick spring free, and move my hand up and down it, watching his eyes roll back in his head.
“Tell me what you want for a Christmas, Nathan.”
He thrusts into my hand slowly. “How can you still think about Christmas when I just made you come twice?”
“Because it’s important to me to do something nice for you.”
“I only want you, Anastasia. Nothing you can buy me is better than the past four weeks with you. Give me more of that, and I’ll be happy.”
I pull his mouth to mine, tasting myself on his tongue. I’m lost for words. How could I not be? This man blows every negative thought I’ve ever had about exclusivity away. Why would I ever want to share myself, share him?
He kisses me, cradles my face, and gives me every sliver of his care and attention. His arm reaches toward the bedside drawer, and the words spill out of my mouth. “We don’t have to use a condom…unless you want to. I’m on birth control, and I’m not having sex with anyone else. I trust you,” I take a deep breath, “and I hope you trust me.”
I don’t think I’ve ever seen him speechless. He finally clears his throat after staring at me with a slack jaw for thirty seconds. “You’re serious?”
“Yeah. I’ve never done it without before but don’t feel pressured.”
“Neither have I. Oh my—fuck.” He lines himself up and the anticipation is killing me. “You’re sure?”
“Please,we’ve waited long enough.”