Page 22 of Babygirl for Christmas

He doesn’t have to ask me twice. I crawl up on the bed, kicking my shoes off on the way. I lie on my back and watch as Nick slowly and methodically removes his own clothes. My need grows higher with every tanned inch of skin revealed. My fingers itch to touch him. My lips tingle with the desire to kiss each bit of newly exposed skin. But I stay put, not wanting to disobey a direct request.

Once he’s completely naked, I admire his sexy body. He’s like an Adonis. A perfect specimen. Miles of tanned skin and cut muscles hard-won from manual labor, not a gym. The way his muscles move and flex makes my pussy clench in anticipation. I love feeling all that power above me. He doesn’t leave me wanting for long because as soon as the last piece of clothing hits the floor, he’s pouncing.

He starts at my lips, kissing me breathless. His work-rough hands run up and down my body, teasing my pussy with light touches before moving up to pinch and tease my nipples. I thread my fingers through his hair, holding him to me, not wanting to lose the feel of him. He releases my lips to kiss and lick his way down my neck and chest. Stopping to worship each of my nipples in turn.

I whimper and moan, unable to stay still as he tortures my sensitive peaks with pleasure. I’m wild with lust by the time he moves on, kissing lower and lower until he’s poised between my legs. He gives my pussy one teasing lick, then dives in. He eats my pussy like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

“Oh, God!” I cry out as my orgasm rolls through me out of nowhere. I scream his name while wave after wave of pleasure crashes down. He thrusts two fingers deep inside me, unerringly finding that perfect spot that will push me farther into oblivion. Spots dance before my eyes, my heart racing in my chest as my body thrashes.

Nick pins me to the bed with one strong arm across my stomach. He sends me into a second, more powerful orgasm. This one stealing the very breath from my lungs and forcing me to arch my back and scream his name. Before the orgasm subsides, Nick is there, pushing his cock into my still spasming pussy. The orgasm continues to roll through me as he slowly makes love to me.

The gentle way he looks down at me speaks volumes about how much he loves me. The way he makes love to me in long, sure thrusts, never quickening his pace, is driving me to madness. The orgasm is growing again, and this time, it’s going to wreck me.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Cherry. So tight and wet. I love how you feel wrapped around me. Your wet pussy sucking me in, gripping me so tight I see stars.”

Nick’s dirty words spur me on, making me want more. Faster. Harder. I want him to give us exactly what we both want. I don’t want him to hold back. I push on his shoulder, and even though he’s stronger and bigger than me, he doesn’t protest. He rolls us until he’s flat on his back and I’m sitting astride him.

I slowly rise and fall, getting used to the deeper angle of this position. I feel full to bursting and I love it. Once I’ve adjusted to the new position, I start riding him harder and faster. We both moan at the quicker pace I’m setting. My hands fall to his chest, my hair a curtain around us, shrouding us from the outside world and all its worries.

He reaches between us and starts rubbing my sensitive clit. “Nick! Daddy! I’m gonna come…”

“That’s it, my Cherry. Come all over my cock.”

He doesn’t have to say anything else. With one more stroke to my clit, I’m soaring high above. My release a cataclysmic event that breaks me apart and puts me back together again as a whole new person. I collapse to his chest, and he grips my hips, fucking up into me until he finds his own release. My body quivers as he empties himself deep inside me.

“I love you,” Nick says, smoothing the hair from my face.

I murmur the words back, drunk off amazing sex and the power of the man I’m collapsed on top of—the man I love more than life itself.

16

NICK

I wakeup early the next morning, stuffing Cherry’s stocking with the last gift from her not-so-secret Santa. As usual, she wakes up while I’m busy cooking breakfast.

“Mmm, it smells good in here,” she murmurs, pushing her messy hair off of her perfect face. “Like blueberry strudel muffins.”

I give her a knowing smile.

“Oh, my God! They are blueberry strudel muffins, aren’t they?”

“Would it be Christmas morning without them?” I ask with a raised brow.

Cherry sniffles, her eyes turning glassy. “No… no, it just wouldn’t be the same.”

That’s another one of the many Christmas traditions that her grandmother told me about just after her first stroke. You see, I did have a little bit of help with my secret Santaing. After her first stroke, I visited her in the hospital… it seems the observant woman had seen the way I look at Cherry and how Cherry looked at me. She recognized that there was more than just neighborly affection between us and decided to play matchmaker.

She knew her time was limited. She was worried about her girl and wanted to make sure that someone would be here to take care of her once she was gone. She knew that Cherry would fall into her grief, and her grandmother wanted to make sure someone was there to pull her out of it.

We eat our blueberry muffins under the Christmas tree, following the tradition through. “I can’t believe you did all of this.” She waves at all of the gifts under the tree and the stocking that’s sitting in her lap.

“It wouldn’t be Christmas without Santa filling your stocking, now would it?”

She lets out a happy giggle. “I suppose not.”

“Well, let’s see what Santa brought you.”

Cherry eagerly starts taking things from the stocking. New nail polish in her favorite colors, Grinch socks, new hair ties, and so much more, along with more candy than any one person needs. She gives me a quizzical look when she pulls out the last thing in the stocking. It’s wrapped in the paper she’s come to expect from her Santa.

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