Page 155 of Snowed In

I stare at him and my heart thuds in my chest.

“Why’d you do that?”

“I dunno.”

He shifts in his chair and looks almost embarrassed. But I’m having all sorts of feelings, and none of them are bad.

“Sorry, I should have talked to you about it first. You may not even want to be my boyfriend?—”

I stop him right then, leaning forward and pressing my lips to his.

“Shut up. We can be boyfriends. Might as well.” I shrug, like it’s no big deal, but internally I’m swooning. He does the most ridiculously romantic things.

I always thought we’d be bad together, too different, but we work perfectly.

It’s disconcerting at times, but I still want it. Want him.

“Cool,” he says and then grins softly at me. Makes me melt a little. “I’m really glad.”

When we finally finish cleaning up the kitchen and we’re in the shower, I let him wrap his arms around me and kiss me deeply. We manage a quick wash between our sloppy make-out session, and when we finally make it to the bedroom, we don’t even bother fully drying off, just fall to the mattress still wet.

Our bodies slide against each other as my lips explore his body.

“Can’t believe you’re my boyfriend,” he whispers as I tug his nipple into my mouth and make him whimper.

“I am. I’m the best boyfriend, too.”

“Yeah. You are.”

His hands thread through my hair and tug gently.

“Thinking highly of yourself?” I ask, and he chuckles with a low moan when I pull his cock into my mouth.

“You’re the best boyfriend, too. Don’t know how I got so lucky.”

I don’t know why he thinks that, but it still makes me puff up like a fucking peacock all the same. He does that a lot: compliments me. And it helps that he’s showing and not telling, gasping and writhing beneath me as I slowly suck him down, my lubed finger moving into his ass and pressing against his prostate. He cries out and I add a second one, scissoring him open.

I haven’t been inside of him yet, not fully. It’s usually me being fucked, but I don’t mind, not at all. I love how he just loses control when he’s inside of me, the way he comes so hard he nearly blacks out. It’s fucking delicious. And it never gets old. Perhaps monogamy is for me, after all.

Maybe I was just waiting for Christian all this time.

“Want you,” he groans. “Want you inside of me, please, Wren!”

I pop off his dick, unsure I heard him right. Because I could be hallucinating. There are days I’ve woken up this month and wondered if I’m in a dream.

This is all too good to be true.

My fingers continue to massage his hole, making his cock sputter and leak.

“Say that again.”

“I want you inside of me.”

“You sure?” I ask and then gaze down at my pierced cock. It’s hard and angry, wanting to do what he asks, but I don’t want to hurt him.

I never want to hurt him. I’ve come to…care for him. This is more than just good sex. I crave his company, listening to him tell me about his day, the way he cuddles up next to me on the couch as we watch TV.

“Yes, please. I’ve wanted this for a while, I just…” he groans when I press against his prostate, massaging it softly. “Oh god, I want you inside of me.”

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