Page 27 of Stuffing His Stocking

I feel his other hand find mine under the table, and he laces our fingers together, making my heart flutter.

“It’s nice to have someone to spend Christmas with.” He smiles back at Mom while giving my palm a gentle squeeze.

I fight the urge to lean over and kiss him right here at the table, but I’m hyper-aware of our audience. Then I glance at Dylan and catch the promise of something sinful shimmering in those sea-green depths of his. Suddenly, Christmas morning can’t come soon enough.

10

LIV

Surrounded by a mess of wrapping paper and ribbons, I glance over at Dylan. He’s concentrating on folding paper around a box, his brow furrowed in determination, and I can’t help but smile. Here he is, a man who can construct buildings with his bare hands, fumbling with Scotch tape and gift tags.

“Need some help there?” I taunt, reaching for a bow to stick on my package.

He lifts his head with his signature smile in place. “I’ve got this. But keep watching. It’s good for my ego.”

Truth is his looks aren’t the only things that hold my attention—it’s the way his kindness shines through in everything he does. It’s the patience in his voice when he speaks to me, the gentle way he handles fragile ornaments, the laughter we share over silly jokes. It all adds up to something terrifyingly real.

As I watch him tie the ribbon, a realization settles into my heart, warm and undeniable. I’m falling—no, I have fallen—for Dylan Kane. My ex-stepbrother. But more importantly, the man who makes my world tilt on its axis.

“Hey, you okay?” he asks, his empathetic gaze searching mine.

“Perfect.” I swallow down a knot of emotions. Because how can I explain that the best gift I could ever receive this Christmas is sitting right next to me, oblivious to the chaos he’s caused in my heart?

“Good.” He beams. “Because I think I’m getting pretty damn good at this.”

If only he knew just how much I agree…

We finish with the few remaining gifts, and the last folds of tissue paper crinkle under our hands as we work silently to clear away the remnants of our impromptu gift-wrapping party. The sound of Mom’sgoodnightechoes in the air as she retreats down the hall to her bedroom.

“Looks like Santa’s workshop in here,” Dylan quips as he bundles a cluster of tangled ribbons. The twinkling lights from the Christmas tree cast dancing shadows across his muscular frame, making my heart do its own little dance. “What do we do with those?” He motions with his chin to the stockings lying on the coffee table.

“We stuff them full of candy and small gifts, then hang them on the mantle.”

“Is that right?” He smirks. “I’ve got a stocking you can stuff. Come over here and let me show you.”

“Seriously?” I chuckle, scooping up scraps of paper and throwing them at him.

His long legs eat up the distance between us, and he wraps his arms around my waist, tugging my body into his. “So you don’t wanna stuff my stocking then?” He kisses a tender spot just below my jaw.

“Maybe you can change my mind.” I tilt my head to the side, and Dylan nips along the column of my neck. Then he seals his mouth over mine and steals my breath with a searing kiss.

Within seconds, our hands are all over each other, tearing at clothing items in a race to undress. It’s reckless and frenzied, both of us knowing my mom is down the hall and could catch us at any moment. We turn off the lights, leaving only the glowing fire and the glittering sparkle of the Christmas tree. Our bodies come together with a familiar heat, whispers and sighs mingling with the faint sounds of the house settling around us.

Stepping over our discarded clothes, Dylan drags me to the couch where he sits down and guides me to straddle him. His hard cock nudges me from below while I grip the backrest behind his head and steady myself on his lap. My large breasts sway back and forth until he gathers them in his hands and buries his face between them.

“I don’t think I’ll be the one doing the stuffing,” I taunt while I roll my hips, feeling my wet core glide along his length.

“You want me to stuff your pussy with my cock, baby? Fill you up until I’m coming inside you?”

My breaths quicken at the thought, and I nod.

“You’ll have to be extra quiet though. Think you can be a good girl for me?”

“I like being a good girl for you,” I whisper my confession.

He smiles up at me, letting me writhe on top of him while plucking and tweaking the stiff peaks of my breasts. My head drops back when he draws one of the puckered buds into his hot mouth, roughly massaging the other. I start to moan with pleasure until he abruptly stops and I lift my head and pout.

“Shhh, baby. You gotta keep it down.”

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