Page 26 of Stuffing His Stocking

“Faster,” I plead, loving the blissful sensations I’m experiencing in this position. He’s fucking me deep while rubbing against my G-spot, and I know it won’t be long before I come.

“I wish I could spend all day fucking your tight cunt,” he whispers before groaning in my ear. “But we better get downstairs before your mom comes looking for us.”

I know he’s right, but I don’t want this to end.

Dylan reaches around me and finds my throbbing clit, playing the swollen bundle of nerves like a familiar instrument. “You close, baby? I need you to come for me.”

I’m barely hanging on as he hammers his cock into my pussy. “Don’t pull out this time,” I pant on a moan.

“What?” His tone is laced with shock and lust.

“I wanna feel you come inside me.”

“You sure, baby?” He rolls his hips, hitting all the right spots and making my eyes roll back in my head.

“Please,” I beg. “I need you.”

“Fuck, I like it when you say that.”

His thrusts become harder and deeper and faster as sweat surfaces on my back. My stomach trembles and my core clenches while my muscles begin to milk his cock. And just like that, we’re coming together, spurts of his hot cum filling me up as he wraps his hand over my mouth to stifle my moans.

We’re both struggling to catch our breath when he whispers in my ear. “I wish we could stay like this, but we better get up.”

I nod, unable to speak while coming down from my high. But I groan when I feel him withdraw from me, missing the sensation of being filled with his dick.

He bends down to take my mouth in an affectionate kiss. “Hurry up, baby. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

The savory aromaof Mom’s famous pot roast fills the cozy breakfast nook off the side of the kitchen. We have a formal dining room big enough to seat twelve, but we rarely use it. Not since Mom was married to Bruce. I like this better anyway. It feels homier and more welcoming, the way Christmas Eve should be.

I keep stealing glances at Dylan, at his chiseled jawline and captivating green eyes. He’s so ruggedly handsome it almost hurts, and I’m desperate to feel his hands on my body again.

“I’ll need to be up at the crack of dawn to start on tomorrow’s feast,” Mom announces across the dinner table, breaking my Dylan-induced trance.

“Need any help?” I offer, feeling a twinge of guilt about her having to wake up so early.

She waves me off with a smile. “Oh, honey, I’ve been prepping all week. I’ve got this down to a science. You just enjoy a lazy morning. I’ll have my special Christmas quiche ready for you guys when you wake up.”

“And sausage balls?” My eyebrows lift and a wide grin covers my face.

“And sausage balls,” Mom confirms with a smile.

“What are sausage balls?” Dylan asks, wiping his mouth on his napkin.

“They’re little, yummy nuggets of breakfast sausage and cheddar cheese. I could eat my weight in them.” I’m practically drooling just thinking about my favorite breakfast food.

“And here I thought I’d experienced some of the finest meals the world has to offer. But all the five-star restaurants I’ve ever visited have nothing on the meals I’ve sampled this week.” He winks at my mom and she blushes.Actually blushes.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Mom is being modest but she truly is a wonderful cook. “Most of these recipes have been handed down to me, but I’ve added some of my own over the years. And they’ve become part of our holiday traditions. It wouldn’t feel like Christmas without them.”

Mom and I share a look as we recall happy memories of all our past holidays together. Then I feel Dylan’s warm, heavy palm resting on my thigh beneath the table, and I give him a sympathetic smile, hating that he’s missed out on creating memories like this.

“Speaking of tomorrow…” Mom changes the subject, her tone much more hesitant now. “Should we invite Bruce to join us for dinner?”

Dylan instantly tenses beside me, his jaw clenching ever so slightly. “I’d be surprised if he’s even in town,” he replies, his voice remaining neutral. “He’s probably off on some island with his gold-digger of the month.”

Mom’s face falls, a shadow of hurt flickering across her elegant features. I know she’s thinking about her own painful history with Bruce. But just as quickly, her expression softens as she looks at Dylan sitting next to me.

“Well, I’m glad you could join us for the holidays, sweetie. You’re always welcome in our home.” She reaches over and rests her hand over his.

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