Page 17 of First Kissmas

She runs her hands over my chest, her eyes locked onto mine. “I want you to come inside me, Ryder. Over and over again.Please.”

I fist my cock, rubbing the head against her wet slit, making her moan. I push the head in, and she cries out, her fingers gripping my biceps. Christ, she’s so tight, so wet, so perfect.

I ease into her, inch by inch, until I’m fully buried inside her.

“I love you, Courtney,” I rasp, tilting my forehead against hers. When I start moving in and out of her, each thrust is slow and deliberate. She moans and gasps, her body so responsive to mine, her pussy clenching around my cock. “I’m going to give you everything you ever dreamed of. The wedding ring, the babies, all of it. I’m going to give you the world.”

Her eyes are filled with trust and love. I can feel her getting close, her body tensing, her breath coming in higher and higher gasps.

“You’re doing so well, honey,” I groan. “That’s it. Good girl.”

“Ryder,” she gasps, clinging to me. When she cries out, her body arches against mine, her pussy squeezing like crazy around my cock. I keep fucking her, harder now, chasing my own release.

When I come, it’s with an animalistic roar, my cock pulsing as I fill her with my cum. Christ, so much fucking cum. She gasps lungfuls of air as I fill her, sobbing my name before she crushes her lips to mine.

In that moment, there’s nothing else in the world but us.

8

EPILOGUE – COURTNEY

TEN YEARS LATER

“Merry Christmas, beautiful.”

I’m already drifting in that peaceful space between sleeping and waking, but Ryder’s deep voice brings me the rest of the way out of sleep. I’m warm and cozy under our pile of quilts, tucked against my husband as he holds me close. In his late forties now, Ryder is even more handsome than the first day I met him—the silver threading through his dark hair only enhances those striking features of his, and his body is still powerful and muscular from years of working with his hands.

“Merry Christmas, handsome,” I murmur, giving him a soft, lingering kiss.

“Mmm.” His fingers trace my hip. “You’re a really good kisser, you know that, Court?”

“Well, I’ve had lots of practice.” I smile against his mouth. “Ten years’ worth, to be precise.”

It’s amazing how life has changed in the best possible ways over the past decade. We've made our home here in the mountains, a short drive away from Fairhope, in a setting that reminds Ryderof his old surroundings but which he claims he loves even more—though I like to tease him that it's just because he has an even bigger workshop now. As for me, what started as a casual interest in photography ended up growing into my very own wedding photography business. But the biggest delight has been the chaotic joy that our two daughters have brought to our days, thanks to their laughter, their wild spirits, and the way they see the world with such wonder and possibility.

“Mom? Dad?” Avery’s voice calls impatiently through our bedroom door. “Are you guys awake yet?”

“Santa came!” Shae adds excitedly.

Ryder chuckles. “Come on in, girls.”

They burst through the door in their Christmas pajamas—Avery in snowflakes, Shae in candy canes. At nine, Avery is starting to show hints of the young woman she’ll become, and she has her father’s gentle eyes and my determination. Seven-year-old Shae bounces beside her sister, looking as wild as always, her dark hair frizzy and tangled from sleep.

“Come on, come on!” Shae tugs at my hand while Avery pulls her father from bed. “There are presents everywhere!”

Laughing, we happily let our daughters drag us downstairs, where our living room glows with the warmth of Christmas morning. Our four stockings hang from the stone fireplace, and our tree sparkles with a decade of collected memories—including those first ornaments Ryder bought me, still catching the light just as beautifully as they did in my tiny Fairhope apartment.

The rest of the morning passes in a whirlwind of wrapping paper and excited exclamations. Avery shows off her new artsupplies while Shae tests out the keyboard she’s been begging for. Halfway through opening presents, Shae looks up suddenly.

“Do you think Santa brought our neighbor any presents?”

I share a look with Ryder. Griffin Adler moved into the only other house within walking distance six months ago. While I’m always polite when we cross paths, we’ve kept our distance—especially after hearing whispered rumors in Fairhope about his dangerous past. The former military man clearly prefers his solitude, which is fine by me.

“Santa visits everyone,” Avery says wisely, though she glances at me with uncertainty in her eyes.

Ryder smoothly changes the subject. “Who’s hungry? The stew should be ready by now.”

The rich aroma of his traditional Christmas beef stew has been filling the house all morning. Some things haven’t changed in ten years—he still makes it exactly the same way he did when he lived alone. But now we all get to enjoy it together, savoring it with warm bread and stories that make the girls laugh.

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