“Do you miss her?”
It’s been years since I’ve really talked about her. Damion doesn’t mention her. Ever. Sometimes I feel like she’s a figment of my imagination, the only memories I have of her are twisted and warped from age. Dad used to bring her up after drinking a few too many beers, but never with anything kind to say. I used to wonder how a man could talk that way about the woman he had two kids with, but I guess when she walks out one day and never looks back, you’re entitled to a little bitterness.
Preston wipes a tear from my cheek. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“No, it’s okay.” I sniffle and break a small smile. “How can you miss someone you don’t really know?”
“Well, it’s her loss.” The weight of his lips soothes the heavy ache in my chest. Distracting my mind from clinging to the hurtful memories of my childhood.
My arms tighten around him, pushing him back toward the pile of bedding. His foot catches on the cushion and he loses his balance tipping backward. The blankets break our fall as he rolls me to the side of him.
My chin rests perfectly on his chest. “You know we should make the bed. I don’t think this is going to be too comfortable.” I readjust and pull the pillow digging into my side free. Preston rolls me to my back before caging me in from above.
“I think it can wait.” He teases with a wink before closing the short distance between our lips. It’s soft and sweet until his tongue begs for admittance. Then it turns to a battle of wills as our teeth clash and our tongues tangle like a skillfully choreographed dance.
His hand tangles in my hair pulling slightly to tip my head back, the shift grants him deeper access which pulls a guttural moan from his chest. My hips lift, searching for an ounce of friction against his hard length. The need to ease the aching throb between my legs is my only aim at that moment.
“Fuck, Clara. I can feel your heat through our clothes,” he hisses between clenched teeth. “You’ve got to stop that or I’m not going to be able to keep myself from ripping your clothes off, and I don’t think we want to risk an audience.”
I let out a huff of irritation, “I can be quiet,” I plead and nip at his bottom lip, grinding even harder against him. I can feel my orgasm building, the pressure growing in my core.
“I’ll make you feel good, but you have to stay quiet. Promise?”
I nod my head. I’d agree to almost anything in this moment just to get his hands on me. His fingers dip beneath the waistband of my shorts. Arching my back, I pull my legs out from under his thighs widening my hips and giving him more room.
His fingers trace down my slit. “Damn stacks, you’re so wet for me already.”
“Please, Preston, I need to come.”
“Shh. Quiet.”
His fingers dip in and out, stretching me taut when he adds another finger. His thumb coated in my arousal circles my clit. The added assault sends shock waves through my limbs. I jolt up and bite into his muscular neck to quiet the scream that wants to rip from my throat.
“Your pussy’s pulsing around my fingers. I can’t wait until I can be buried deep inside you again, Clara. Tell me I can have you again?” Now, he’s the one begging but he doesn’t have to I’d let him take me right here, right now. Throw caution to the wind and take any consequences that might fall on us.
His fingers drag against my front wall at the same time his thumb pushes hard against my clit and I’m gone. Stars burst behind my eyes, my toes curl and my heels dig into the cushioned floor. My breathing pitches and I want to scream out my release. It’s his lips crashing against mine that commands I keep my promise.
His kiss slows as my breathing settles and the euphoria wanes, but I’m sated and warm and have zero desire to move from our entangled position. “You’re amazing you know that?” I smile in response but the whiskey from earlier mixes with my post-orgasm high and my eyes flutter closed.
ChapterThirteen
Excited voices and soft rustling pull me out of a happy dream. The warm arm coiled around my waist refuses to budge when I try to sit up. “Mhm, stay,” he says in his raspy sleep-laced voice as he nuzzles into my neck.
“Come on you two, up, up. It’s Christmas morning.” Damion’s childlike excitement warms my heart and his disinterest in our sleeping arrangement lifts the uneasiness that he may never like Preston the way he liked Robert.
Tiny footsteps come rushing into the living room seconds before the slower-moving adults. We settle around the room. Natalie builds small walls of presents in front of the kids and passes the remaining gifts out to the adults. It wasn’t hard to sneak in a thing here or there, while we were out. I didn’t want Preston to be the only one on Christmas morning without gifts to open. I just hope it’s stuff he’ll like.
Christmas gifts are hard to buy for the tutee turned fake boyfriend that then wormed his way up to real boyfriend status by setting your soul on fire, all in less than two weeks. He smiles as the last present is handed off to him. “You really didn’t have to get me anything.”
My fingers worry the book charm back and forth across its chain, the tiny bumps as it slides calming my nervousness. “How could I not after this?” He doesn’t know these gifts have been wrapped and waiting for days.
“Oh, hold on.” He leaps from the couch and hurries out of the room returning with another small present, this one bigger than the necklace box. “Here, one more.”
“Pot, meet kettle,” I say, shaking my head at him as he places it carefully in my lap.
“Touché.”
I wait to open my small pile of presents, taking in my niece and nephew’s joyous squeals as they unwrap gift after gift. It’s something extra special to watch those you love grow up with something better than you had. I’d never wish for them to go through what Damion and I had to deal with and I know they never will. These kiddos lucked out in the parent department big time.