Page 18 of Silent Night Temptation

“Marcus!” she cries out, the sound raw and filled with the pure force of what’s unraveling within her. I feel her body tighten, twitching with the pleasure coursing through her, the tension snapping as she collapses onto me, and trembles with the aftershocks of her release.

But I’m not done. Not yet. I need more. The urge she has created within me demands more, an urge that craves the sight of her completely undone, vulnerable yet powerful in the same breath.

In one swift motion, I slip out from beneath her. My hands are firm as I guide her body forward, turning her so she’s on all fours before me.

Her back arches in a graceful curve, her body positioned perfectly before me, her skin glowing in the dim light. Her hips invitingly sway slightly, her body still quivering from the pleasure she just claimed. And her ass, full, and absolutely spellbinding, presents itself to me, framed by the curve of her spine. Her legs part just enough to show her pulsating pussy.

She’s a vision, a breathing embodiment of temptation, and I feel my control slipping. Her body calls to me, drawing me in like a force I can’t resist.

Without hesitation, I move closer, positioning myself behind her, and in one fluid motion, I thrust eagerly into her again. She’s still sensitive, her body reacting instantly, shuddering as I fill her. A soft moan escapes her lips, the sound of my name falling from her in breathless sighs.

“Oh, Marcus… Marcus…” she screams, her voice a litany of need. Nyree’s body is pressing back against me, moving in time with my thrusts. Each movement causes a ripple on her skin,and the sound of her body against mine pushes me to the brink of madness.

The sight of her, the way her body moves, and the way her soft cries fill the air is overwhelming. I lose myself in it, in the rawness of it all. There is an urgency in my hips as I thrust into her, deeper, harder, each one pulling me closer to the edge.

Her body responds to every touch and every thrust. And I’m lost in her; the way she trembles, the way her voice catches when she says my name, the way her hands grip the sheets as if she’s trying to hold on to something solid in the whirlwind of pleasure we’re creating.

I feel it building within me; the tension coiling in my core, tightening with each passing moment. Each stroke brings me closer and closer to the point of no return. The sound of her breathless moans with her body arching and her ass bouncing against me… it's all too much for me to withstand.

“I’m going to come!” I growl, my voice thick with desperation. Then it hits me, a furious burst of pleasure that courses through me like fire, igniting every nerve and making my knees buckle. I collapse onto the bed, my body spent. My breaths come in heavy, uneven bursts as I try to ground myself in the aftermath of the storm.

For a long moment, the only sound in the room is our shared breathing. I pull her close, wrapping my arms around her as we both lie there. Our bodies still humming with the remnants of everything we just shared.

In the quiet, I press my forehead against her back, inhaling the scent of her, and feeling the warmth of her skin beneath my lips. I don’t need to say anything. I don’t need to move. All I need is this, her beside me, with the steady beat of her heart slowing in time with mine, our bodies still entwined beneath the glow of the moonlight.

In an instant, I know. Nothing could ever compare to this. This is the best Christmas Eve ever.

***

Nyree

Iwake to the soft glow of morning light filtering through the curtains, casting a gentle golden hue over the room. The warmth of the bed clings to me. I am reluctant to leave the heavy duvet that serves as a cocoon of comfort. For a few seconds, I keep my eyes closed, savoring the peace of the moment, the kind of stillness that only a snow-covered morning can bring. It’s the silence after a storm. The world is wrapped in a muffling blanket of white. It’s so serene.

But the moment is fleeting. A sharp pang of guilt blooms in my chest, and it makes my breath catch in my throat.

I’m in Marcus’s bed. Mr. Marcus Davenport.

The realization crashes into me, and I’m suddenly wide awake, my heart pounding in my chest. I shift slightly under the covers, feeling his presence beside me, his warmth radiating even though he’s still half asleep. His arm is draped loosely around my waist, a gesture that feels both possessive and protective, as if even in his sleep, he’s claiming me.

And I let him.

Last night comes flooding back in vivid detail. The fire, the heat of his touch, and the overwhelming need that seemed to consume us both. I can still feel the ghost of his lips on my skin. I remember the way I whispered his name like a prayer. My body responds to the memory, a dull ache of desire stirring deep within me, but it’s quickly overshadowed by the weight of what this all means.

He’s Coco’s father.

I close my eyes again, trying to push that thought away, but it’s like a shadow I can’t escape. I can’t ignore the complexity of it, the tangled mess we’ve created. This isn’t just a fling. I don’t want it to be, not with how I feel at the mere thought of him, but maybe it should be? Maybe this is a door we should never have opened, one we should seal shut forever. I glance at him again, and even as he sleeps he looks so steady, and so much more than I should even allow myself to consider.

This is my best friend’s father! For goodness' sake.

How am I supposed to explain this to her? How am I supposed to face Coco, knowing what I’ve done?

Marcus stirs beside me, his arm tightening slightly around my waist as he pulls me closer. His breath is warm against the back of my neck, and despite everything, there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to move, or leave this bubble of warmth and comfort we’ve created. In his arms feels safe, like nothing bad can touch us.

But that’s not the real world. Not the one I have grown accustomed to.

With a sigh, I crawl out from under his arm, careful not to wake him. The cool air hits my skin as I slip out of bed. I wrap a blanket around myself for warmth as I cross the room to the window. The snowstorm that raged through the night has passed, leaving behind a pristine, white landscape. The worldoutside is bright, too bright. The sun glints off the snow, its brilliance casting a sharp glare that forces my eyes to narrow against the blinding sight.

I hear Marcus stirring behind me, and I brace myself. I’m not ready for this conversation, but I know it’s inevitable. We can’t just ignore what happened, as much as I might want to.

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