Page 44 of His Until Christmas

His hands go still, their slide stopping midway up my torso, which should tickle. Instead, a thumb brushes my nipple, and I had no idea that would light me up or leave me gasping.

He does it again, only slower, and I shiver.

“Too much?”

“No.” I prove it by doing some tugging of my own. It doesn’t take much to get his coat off, and I’ve never been more grateful that his shirt was half untucked already. It makes it so easy to slide my own palms under his clothes to find bare skin like I did once already. Last Friday seems a lifetime ago in Rex’s study, and it was interrupted by twin phone calls.

Tonight, I’m not stopping for anybody.

I kiss him again, and here he goes with all that strength he keeps hidden—I’m off-balance, and he’s the reason.

Reece sinks and takes me with him until I’m in his lap all over again, only on a nest of coats instead of a couch this time.

I’m on top, and I like it.

“Off.” I tussle with his sweatshirt until we’re both bare from the waist up, and this chest-to-chest contact is a reminder of glitter.

I see sparkles again as soon as he gets my belt and fly unfastened.

Reece finds my dick, and this time there’s no fabric between his hand and where I’m hard for him already. Everything turns bright like the best of London’s Christmas season. The whole world also shifts. No exaggeration—I tilt the same way now as when the Tube took a corner on the way here, and, like then, he’s got me.

He hoists me up to standing in a hurry, his hands on my arse lifting me even higher, and I let out the kind of cackle I never could in a building full of private bankers. It last rang out this loudly in a starry courtyard, and I spin again right now. Or, at least, he does by backing into the living room where red, gold, and green tree lights flicker, and my laughter only cuts off when he drops me onto cushions.

Reece helps me out of the last of my clothes so I’m naked. I’m also speckled with lights and so is he as he unfastens his belt in what feels like slow motion.

The rest of his clothes come off, and I don’t even know I’ve gripped the base of my dick until he mirrors the same action.

He wraps one of those big hands around himself, and the world had slowed a moment before. Now it speeds up, and he’s above me, big enough to block all the light out when he lowers himself, and we connect from chest to pelvis.

I still see sparkles. They fill my vision until I blink. Then they dot the ceiling. His mouth also dots kisses across my shoulders, dropping more there as he rocks and lights me up in a whole new way.

We kiss again, wet and deep, and I clutch his shoulders, the span of his back, his arse—which flexes before he leans up on a forearm to get a hand between us.

He holds my cock, but he’s the one who groans as though he feels each slide of his hand twisting my insides tighter, and I hadn’t known it would feel so intense from this angle.

I unclench my fingers, pretty sure I’ve already left some bruises on his backside. I’ll worry about that later. For now, I’m busy finding out what it’s like to pull the same sensations from him. He’s still braced above me, still shadowed. I don’t have any problem reading his expression once I get my hand around his dick.

This low groan and deep rumble both sayyeslike I did to him in the hallway.

I say the same again now, silently and all to myself.

Yesto curling my hand tighter around his hot thickness, andyesto repeating what he’s doing for me. We kiss, although this one is messier, both of us breathing harder. And when I bring my fingers to my mouth to wet them and get a taste of precome, I let out a low and new sound all my own.

His tongue is deep in my mouth when he gives up bracing above me, which means breathing comes second until he shifts some more. We’re side by side then, and that’s better, even if breathing had felt overrated. Now there’s space to touch him, which is even more important.

I lick my fingers again, making my hold slicker, so I can stroke him faster. The head of his cock catches between my thumb and finger, and I slow down, exploring as he bites off sounds I want to hear so much more of.

I want more of him, full stop, and when I let go to shove at those huge shoulders, I guess he wants more too—he rolls over so easily for me, so I kneel over him. His cock is in my hand, my mouth wet all over again at the sight of him spread out like this.For me. That wetness helps because I’ve kissed plenty of frogs, but never where I want to kiss Reece.

I flick my tongue across the tip of his dick first and get what I wanted—he lets out the deepest rumble yet.

Reece also tilts his hips like he can’t help it. Him filling my mouth is tough to deal with without choking. I pull back, tree lights blurring until I blink to see he’s still speckled with red, gold, and green. Still the best thing I got this Christmas. He’s also up on his elbows, watching, and that does something for me.

He’s intent.

So am I, on being the cause of more noises from him. Flicking my tongue across his slit does it. So does me mapping veins from top to bottom. I touch and trace them. Feel where he’s silky and where he’s solid. Kiss and lick all the way to the top, and his hips tilt again, stuttering to chase contact, like he can’t help it.

I know how that goes. I haven’t been able to help imagining this moment—did it over and over after going out with men who didn’t do it for me. How could they? None of them were Reece Trelawney.

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