Page 18 of Christmas Cheer

“I already told you it wasn’t personal!”

Another brutal thrust, deep enough he bottoms out. I groan at the burn, the way my muscles war against him, desperate but unable to escape. “Don’t give me that shit! I know you do, there’s no way this wouldn’t have happened before now otherwise. This is fucking inevitable, don’t you get it?”

He doesn’t have much more of a range of motion than I do, but he uses what he’s got to his advantage, punching into me rapidly, keeping himself too deep, knowing he’s going too far every time.

I could stay here forever, with his weight and his warmth on me. The spice of his aftershave and his natural musk envelop me. His breath brushes my cheeks.

This is inevitable.

“I never wanted this,” I whimper as I flank his arm with mine just to get our hands together. I rock in rhythm with him, doing my best to pull away just so I can better feel the slide of his body atop and within me more intensely.

“You never wanted me?” he repeats, his voice anguished.

“I never wanted to be the cheerleader who fucked the football players. I didn’t want to be just another cheerleader who got fucked by you.”

He groans low, the tone bleeding both arousal and frustration. “Fuck. You gotta get past this, okay? You gotta see what I wanted. I . . . fuck, I should have just saved myself for you.”

His forehead dips to my back as he lifts his weight so he can work himself inside me better. My hand curls back in, dragging his hand in too. I bite down on it as my orgasm begins to build up.

He twists his wrist to push his fingers into my mouth, gripping my jaw just as firmly as I bite into his nails. “No, I shouldn’t have. They were training, okay? All of those other girls, they were just me training to do this to you.”

He pulls out far enough that in his next series of short, quick thrusts, the ball of his piercing rubs right into my G spot. The sounds of our bodies coming together goes wet as I lose control of my muscles.

“Fuck, Hughes,” he moans, “you squirting for me, baby? That’s it, that’s why I fucked those other girls. To be my best possible for you. Because you’re my bowl trip. You’re my goddamn Super Bowl.”

I give him a pained look over the terrible metaphor even as my orgasm hits me.

Chapter 9

Evan

I wake upin the early hours of the morning to a sound.

To clarify, I’ve woken up three times already, twice because my dick was hard and there was the most perfect, wettest, warmest, snuggliest home for it right there, and it is just as devoted to this mission of impregnating Keira as my brain is. The third time was because my dick was already inside a warm, wet part of Keira — her mouth. I’m guessing she woke up, saw that I was hard again, and wanted to give that well-loved and probably tender pussy of hers a break.

But she was also sleepy and cum drunk, and it took almost no convincing to get her on her hands and knees so I could fuck her in the ass. I wanted my cum leaking out of both holes, thank you very much.

This time when I wake up, it’s to a sound that’s not in my bed. And since Keiraisin my bed, I’m immediately on high alert.

I’ve sky dived, I’ve bungee jumped, I’ve rock climbed. The sort of shit I don’t tell my coaches about because I don’t want the lectures about the risk of serious injury — lectures I get anyway because you know I post that shit on social media and of course my coaches see that. I’ve also taken some bad hits on the field and gotten lucky more than once that my injuries have all been treatable.

And never, not once in my life, have I been as panicked as I am hearing something move around inmyhouse whilemybed is occupied bymyKeira. My heart pounds so loudly it’s hard for me to hear the intruder rifling through my kitchen drawers.

I’m ready to tackle the guy — that’s my thing, it’s what I do — but he might have a weapon, and I don’t want to get stabbed. Next to my bedroom door, my set of golf clubs still sit from an outing with the chancellor last week. I snag the pitching wedge and grip it like a baseball bat as I creep out of my room and down the stairs, skipping the creaky ones.

I’m about a half second from braining the guy as I round the corner next to the fridge, but he has the door open, and I can clearly see Thad Wright digging through the cheese drawer.

Thad sees me in the same second, yelps, and slams the door into my gut.

I hold my stomach as I double over, wheezing.

Thad buckles over as well — from laughing so hard. “You stupid shit. Fucking deserved that.”

“Will you quiet the fuck up?” I whisper once I get air back in my lungs. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugs and pulls a carton of milk from the fridge, heeding no mind to the expiration date as he chugs half of it straight from the carton and shoves the rest back in the fridge. “Dad went psycho. I figured if I drove back tonight, I wouldn’t have to deal with his shit in the morning.”

I want to be sympathetic. On a normal day, I would be. His dad’s an asshole. Thad’s twice his size, but when he’s with his dad, I think his brain still goes back to that little kid unable to stand up for himself.

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