Page 70 of All in December
Moving one hand off his hip, I reach around and palm his throat, not squeezing, just holding and claiming. Caleb’s breath hitches, and he whimpers, his dick twitching untouched beneath him, leaking steadily.
“You’re mine,” I whisper, voice rough and low. “You let me fuck you however I want, don’t you? You’remyslut.”
“I’m yours,” he pants. “Your slut, Nash. I—fuck—I love when you take me like this.”
My cock throbs at the confession, hips stuttering as I slam into him again, even harder now. “Yeah? You love being my hole? That’s all you are right now—my perfect hole to use how I please.”
I worry it might be too far, but instead, he moans in pleasure. “Yes! Nash, yes,” he chokes, pushing back into every thrust like he needs it. “Love being used by you.”
I release his throat and wrap my hand around his stomach instead, holding him closely as my thrusts grow erratic. I reach between his legs and brush the slick head of his cock, just once, and he jerks violently.
“Wait, not yet,” he cries out. “I’ll come too fast.”
“Hold it for me then, baby,” I growl. “You can do it.”
He shudders violently, thighs trembling. “I—I’ll try. Feels so good.”
I bite down gently on the side of his neck, licking over the temporary mark, loving the way he whimpers beneath me.
“You’re doing so good,” I grit out. “Taking every inch of me like you were fucking made for it.”
His only reply is a desperate moan as I keep thrusting.
“Too close, need to touch you.” I gasp, reaching down again, gripping his cock tight and jerking him off in time with my thrusts.
He falls apart: his body tightens, legs shaking uncontrollably, and a strangled cry tears from his throat. “Fuck, Nash, fuck—I’m coming?—”
The moment I feel his hole clench around me, I lose it. My grip on his waist turns bruising as I slam into him one last time and come deep inside of him, groaning into the crook of his neck.
We both stand here, panting, bodies trembling from release. My forehead rests against his spine, and his body goes pliant beneath my hands.
I kiss the space between his shoulder blades, still inside him, not ready to be disconnected just yet. Until he shifts, turning around in my arms, and I slip free. He wraps his arms around my neck. His skin’s slick and flushed. I hold him close, letting the water rush over both of us while our breathing slows together, and I gently wash him.
When we’re finished, I reach past him and turn the water off with one hand and quickly grab two towels from the shelf, wrapping one around his shoulders. My fingers brush alonghis skin as I pull the towel snug and lean in, kissing him, and he lets out the smallest sigh against my mouth.
I step back, rub the second towel over my arms and chest with quick, practiced movements, then nudge him gently toward the bedroom.
“You doing okay, baby?”
“Yeah, I’m great. Best Christmas ever.” Caleb smiles softly.
It’s impossible not to smile at that, especially after what he told me a few weeks ago about how Christmas had always felt a bit lonely for him.
Tess was cool when I asked if I could pick the kids up in the morning to bring them here. She’s had them all day today, and I told her she could spend the day after with them, too. This way, hopefully everyone gets what they want, and tomorrow is full of everything Caleb and Sam want it to be.
I look back at him now, already curled on his side, watching me.
“Well,” I say as I slide into bed, “I’m glad I could help with that. Hopefully, this is the start of a lot of really great Christmases together.”
He smiles. “I’d like that. So much, Nash.”
I reach for him, pulling him in until we’re cuddled up warm and close, his head tucked under my chin. I kiss his forehead, then his temple, then his lips—slow and soft and full of everything I didn’t say out loud. I let myself imagine years of this. Holidays and breakfasts and snow days and sleepy nights with tangled legs because I love him, and I want it all. I’ve hardly known him for a month, but I know in my gut that this is a forever kind of love.
I bury my face into him further, and we stay wrapped up ineach other for a while, but before either of us can fall asleep, I nudge him.
“We should probably go be Santa, huh?” I remind him. I have my gifts for Emma and Benji in the car, and a special one for Caleb that I’ll leave in there until tomorrow.
“You’re right.” He groans as he peels himself out of bed, tugging on a hoodie and a pair of sweats while I do the same, and follow him into the hallway, the soft creak of the wood floor under our feet the only sound.
