Page 55 of Stocking Stuffers
He whooped in happiness and triumph, his hands thrown into the air, before she yanked him down onto the bed to celebrate.
Over an hour later, after Sasha had worked Perry’s new prostate massager into him, which always made him shaky and weak and fucking gorgeous, and he’d tied her ankles to the footboard of his bed, she fisted his curly hair as he ate her out.
The glint of her engagement ring threw her, upped the desire zipping through her nerves as his tongue circled her clit. Perry had written over every bad Christmas memory and every horrible experience she’d had with his nimble tongue and his laugh and the lovelight in his eyes. And he’d continue to do so for the rest of their lives. She twisted against the bonds, loving the resistance of the soft silk on her legs.
He groaned, a rough hungry sound, and yanked her back into place. She shattered against his mouth, sobbing out her pleasure and her love for him, until it was too much and she had to tug his mouth from her swollen, pulsing center. He sat up onto his knees and stared at her. His beard was wet from her and, geez, that was probably her favorite sight in the entire world. She couldn’t believe she’d get to see it forever.
She fumbled the remote in her hand, but once she managed to get her thumb on the trigger button, she met his eyes.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” he chanted, before she’d even done anything.
Then she pressed the button, which turned on the vibration on the P-Spot 3. His head hitched back as if he’d been punched, which, in a way, he had. The muscles in his chest and abdomen stood out in stark relief, veins bulging on his arms, his tattoos and body hair gleaming with sweat. He almost reached for his cock, which was hard and thick and pearling with pre-come at the tip, his hand close to connecting with the rosy head before he snatched his palm away.
He put the Santa hat back on—it had fallen off when he’d been servicing her so thoroughly. Her mind was a bit blurry from her orgasm, but she knew she needed him inside right that instant.
“In. Me. Now,” she said, her voice raspy and tight. She ripped open a condom and practically threw it at him. He rolled it down his length with shaking, careful hands, his eyes wild at that barest touch against his cock.
“I’m not going to last inside you for longer than a second, sweetheart. I’m barely hanging on.” Nevertheless, he knee-walked toward her. She sat up and licked his chin, her arousal a tart burst on her tongue.
“Tell me how it feels,” she said.
“Like my body’s on fire. Full. Overwhelmed. Everything is tight and swollen and …” He gulped and she collapsed back onto the bed. He teased the head of his cock across her clit, then down between the lips of her pussy. “Needy. I feel so needy.”
His words sparked over her skin, and excitement made her body flush hot. She loved when he got like this. Uncontrollable. Greedy.
Needy.
Lord, she loved him needy.
He licked his thumb, getting it messy with spit before rubbing it over her clit, hitting her with precisely the right amount of movement and pressure. She whined, still sensitive from her orgasm. She needed something large and hard to counteract that overstimulation.
Perry gave her exactly what she desired. He slid into her slowly, with so much power and strength, it turned her to jelly.
Her eyelids dropped to slits, and she stared up through her lashes at the man she loved more than life itself, as he came immediately, just like he’d warned.
A funny little laugh burst from his throat as his orgasm shook through him, his eyes rolling back and bliss slackening his mouth. Because she was naughty, she used the remote to increase the vibration inside him before his climax could peter off.
He shouted, his voice high and feral, before bucking into her hard, again and again, chasing every last dredge of pleasure he could. He fell onto one elbow above her, his other hand working magic against her clit, and bit her nipple hard, smothering his own cries for mercy.
She saw stars, her orgasm long and rolling. When she finally opened her eyes, she realized Perry had wrestled the remote from her fingers to turn off the prostate massager. He was resting his forehead against her clavicle, pressing open-mouthed kisses to her flushed chest and collarbones.
“This was the best Christmas ever,” she said into the sudden silence.
He lifted his head, bringing her left hand to his lips and kissing her fingers, one of them adorned with a ring. Then with a few quick tugs, he untied the binds around her ankles.
“Next year will be better,” he said. “And every year after that. Maybe not asintenseas this year.” He sent her a tiny, ornery smile and she laughed. “Or as life-changing.” He ran a thumb over the engagement ring. “Every day we spend together is only going to make me love you more fiercely, more completely. Each year will be a gift, the best Christmas gift I could ever ask for, because I’ll get to spend it with you.”
Emotion stuck in her throat, and she tried to cough it away. “So can I preemptively veto a Christmas wedding?”
He touched her chin, a small smile on his lips. “Definitely. We should have one of those hipster-chic weddings on a ho-hum Saturday in June like every other millennial in the Midwest.”
“It could be in a barn!”
He nodded solemnly. “It’d have to be. Them’s the rules.”
“As long as your sister makes those fig and goat cheese tarts, I’m there. In fact, I think I’d marry you for those tarts alone.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I know exactly the wedding I want.”
“Oh you do? And what is that?”
