Page 64 of Vixen's Guide to Christmas
The scream is loud enough to travel through our room and down the hallway as I rub on her clit, already having memorized exactly how she likes to be touched there and what button to push to send her into orbit.
“Fuck, fuck!” she yells as she slams back into me just as hard as I’m driving into her. “Ah!”
The scream is deafening, and frankly, if that’s the last sound I ever hear, I’ll die a happy man. Kat is shaking from the orgasm, and my arms wrap around her to hold her still. In watching her completely come apart, I don’t realize until it’s too late thatI’m following behind her, my balls tightening before I feel my orgasm explode inside of me.
My hands are digging into her hips, desperate to hold onto her as I spill myself inside her. Thank God there’s a shower seat in here, which is what Kat’s using now to hold herself up, both of us about ready to collapse.
“What are you doing to me?” she asks with stuttering breaths as I slowly pull myself of her, my chest collapsing on her back.
“I was going to ask you the same thing.”
I don’t know what this is—whether it’s love or lust or like, or a combination of those.
But I know it’s special. Rare. That if I don’t hold onto this, I might not ever find something like this again.
And it’s why I have no plans on letting go.
guide to christmas (and love) rule #89
Be careful what you wish for. Even at Christmas.
19
kat
“Merry Christmas, Vixen.”
I wake up to Grayson's sweet words and his lips on my forehead as I cuddle into him tighter. “Merry Christmas to you too.”
It's been a long time since I've woken up in the arms of the same man numerous, and consecutive, days in a row. And that man was Jeff—also known as the distant sleeper. He never argued about what side of the bed I wanted; he just wanted to make sure there was space between us. The pillow fort Grayson built the first night? That actually would’ve been Jeff’s dream.
Then there's Grayson, who when I made a joke last night before we finally went to bed about making the wall again, had the exact words of “fuck the pillow fort” before pulling me into his hold. Once last night I rolled away, as my shoulder was starting to hurt, and before I knew it, I was right back in his arms—new position, but same grasp.
It’s becoming addicting. A thought that should scare me, but weirdly doesn’t. What’s going to happen tonight when we don’t sleep next to each other? The snow stopped last night, so I know today's our final day at the Timberline. Logan has the jet ready to take me to St. Lucia, but I’m not sure if Grayson is going backto Nashville or headed to his parents in Connecticut. Would he want to come to the beach with me? Could he? Is it weird if I ask? Am I needy if I do? Am I a bitch if I don’t? What are the rules? Why is there not some guide to love that gives women the road map of how to navigate a relationship?
Oh…I should write one…
"What kind of Christmas Day do you have?"
His question pulls me from my random thoughts of getting into the publishing game. “What kind of day?”
"Yeah. What's your Christmas routine? I find it fascinating how everyone grows up thinking their way of Christmas is the only way, only to find out that everyone does things slightly different.”
“I don’t know about that, I feel like my way is pretty common.” I say as I roll over, wanting to look at him in the lazy morning light. “After my dad left, Mom and I made it a point each Christmas to never get out of our pajamas. It wasn’t an f-you to him, just something we started doing together to make a new tradition. Breakfast consisted of cookies, cinnamon rolls, and absolutely nothing healthy. We'd open presents—stockings first, because we're not psychopaths—and then after, we just laid around all day watching whatever we felt like putting on, and then ordered Chinese food for dinner.”
That makes Grayson laugh. “Really? Pajamas all day and Chinese for dinner? I heard that they’re one of the few restaurants open on Christmas, but I never met anyone who actually got it on Christmas.”
“It was our favorite,” I say. “Also, Mom was never a big cooker. She always argued why should she have to do something that she doesn't like on a holiday?
“As someone who just implemented that rule in his life, I respect her outlook.”
“It made the day fun. Low stress. A true day of spending time together and just unwinding.”
“Also known as the exact opposite of my family growing up.”
“Let me guess, your family has an agenda and a timed itinerary?”
“It's an unofficial one, but it exists,” he says.
