Page 14 of Christmas Craving
“You look so pretty wrapped up for me like a present,” she whispered as she slid her lips to my neck, the nipped her way across my shoulders.
Down she went, leaving little bites along my collar bones and upper chest, not enough to leave a mark or cause any real pain, just enough to keep my attention on her.
She licked between my breasts, then grabbed one nipple between her fingers, pinching me hard enough that I cried out in surprise. She stopped immediately.
“Is that too much?”
I shook my head. “My nipples are sensitive. But that felt… good.”
Before I finished my sentence her fingers were clamping on my other nipple, giving it an equally firm pinch that I felt even through the lace of my bra. Then she pinched them simultaneously, one in each hand, and my back arched off the couch while I made am embarrassing moaning sound.
This felt good. Very good. My panties were soaked just from what we’d done so far, and I swear I was close to coming already.
As if she knew, Celia moved down to circle her tongue around my belly button, a spot that I would have never thought of as an erogenous zone before now. She nipped along the swell of my belly, just above the waistband of my panties, then she moved one hand between my legs, encountering the damp fabric of my panties.
“You’re already dripping wet, naughty girl,” she hummed.
I thought she’d remove my panties, or maybe slide the crotch to the side, but instead she pressed on the fabric, sliding it up between my lower lips. Her hand moved back and forth quickly, the fabric adding another layer of sensation to my sensitive parts as it slid against my body.
“I’m so close,” I gasped.
Then she stopped. I lifted my head, wondering what she was doing, just in time for me to see her grasp the waistband of my panties between her teeth and drag them downward. It was hot as fuck. When she got hung up on the curve of my hips she added her hands, practically ripping the fabric off my body and tossing it to the ground.
Then she climbed up on the couch with me, kneeling between my legs, lifting one to rest on the back of the couch, the other on her shoulder.
“Keep your eyes on me,” she ordered, then without warning she shoved one long finger into my opening.
I cried out in surprise, then closed my eyes as waves of sensation rolled through me. Then I felt a sharp sting as she brought her other hand down on my mound, giving me a quick smack that sent a zing racing right to my clit.
“Eyes on me,” she repeated, giving me another little smack.
She added a second finger inside my channel, pulling them apart inside me like she was stretching me out, then Celia began pumping her fingers in and out of me roughly. Wanting a better angle, she pulled me up a bit until my ass was resting on the bottom of her thighs, my body at an angle, then she resumed the steady pace of her thrusts.
Her other hand moved upward to find my clitoris. I knew it was swollen -- I could feel it beating in time with my pulse. She pressed my clit, tapped it, pinched it, teasing it continuously while she continued to fuck me with her fingers.
Then her eyes met mine, so dark with desire you could hardly see the blue anymore.
“Come for me, Lanie. Come now.”
Then she curled her fingers just the right way and I was flying, practically screaming her name while electricity jolted through my body. The restraints felt tighter as I bucked against the couch, both chasing the pleasure and worrying that it was toomuch. She teased me until I was completely wrung out, then slowly brought me back down.
My chest was heaving, breath coming in harsh pants, little aftershocks shaking my body. And when it was over, I sagged against the cushions, finally closing my eyes.
Celia gently pulled me up to a seated position, unwrapping the lights, rubbing her fingers over the tiny little marks left behind. Then she lifted me into her lap, put her arms around me, and kissed me like I mattered. Like she was never going to let me go.
I only hoped it was true.
Celia
Iwasn’t sure what the right protocol was right after having life-changing sex, but it was chilly enough in the room that after a few minutes Lanie and I stirred, both of us getting up to put on our clothes without a word. Our silence wasn’t really awkward though, it was more contemplative.
Lanie turned on some Christmas music on her phone, the kinds of songs they played in the stores at this time of the year, and I didn’t protest. Somehow with her, I didn’t mind them that much. Besides, it added to the atmosphere while we worked together to hang up the lights and decorate the tree.
Like Lanie, the ornaments were unique. Several of them had a story with them. The ornament she made for a badge when she was a Brownie. The tree topper her grandfather gave her grandmother on their first wedding anniversary. Handmadeornaments from her nieces and nephews. In my world, Christmas trees were set up by interior designers with artfully arranged ornaments and color coded lights.
But Lanie’s world – this world we were creating right now – was different. The tree was lopsided, missing several branches in the section that we turned to face the wall. The ornaments were unevenly spaced and chaotic. But it was perfect. Completely perfect. And when we finished, I couldn’t help but look at my tree and smile.
“A-ha! I knew you’d like to have a tree,” Lanie teased, her voice triumphant.
