Page 123 of The Unhinged Christmas of a Cat Lady
His words are my undoing. My body shudders, my climax crashing over me like a wave, my cries echoing off the kitchen walls. Jasper follows, his own release tearing a guttural groan from his throat as he buries himself deep within me.
For a moment, we stay like that, our bodies still joined, our breaths coming in ragged gasps. Then, slowly, Jasper withdraws, his hands gentle as he helps me sit up. He leans his forehead against mine, our breaths mingling as try to steady ourselves.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice soft, concerned.
I nod, a smile playing on my lips. “More than okay.”
He kisses me then, a tender, lingering kiss that speaks of promises and forever. Then he makes me link my legs behind his back. He lifts me like I weigh nothing and carries me, his semi-hard cock still buried in me, up to the bedroom.
Jasper
She’s laughing breathlessly into my shoulder as I scoop her up, arms around her thighs, her legs wrap around my waist.
“Did we really just shag in the kitchen?” she murmurs.
“Blame yourself. You had to give me the best Christmas present ever. You.”
She grins, soft and smug, cheek against my neck. “You’re not complaining.”
I am not. At all.
The hallway is dim as I carry her through, past the quiet living room. Upstairs, the bed’s unmade but it doesn’t matter. I set her down gently, and she immediately curls into me like she’s meant to be there.
I wrap an arm around her, pull the blanket over us, and exhale.
It’s quiet. Peaceful. So much so, I almost don’t want to ruin it by speaking.
But I do.
“Where’s SJ?” I ask, voice low in the dark.
She shifts slightly to look up at me. “With his dad tonight. They went to the game and now are probably watchingHome Alone 2. Again.”
I nod, my fingers brushing her back.
“And… how’s he going to feel about this? Us.”
She doesn’t answer straight away. I feel her smile against my chest.
“He told me,” she says, “that he prefers Kent Mum.”
I blink. “Kent Mum?”
“Apparently, I’m funnier here. And more chaotic. His words.”
I laugh quietly. Relief blooms, warm and unexpected. “He’s not wrong.”
“No,” she agrees, settling closer. “But you like me this way.”
“I don’t like you.”
She shifts slightly, tilting her head up, brows pulling together, lips parting—
“I think I love you.”
The words fall out like they’ve been waiting at the back of my throat for weeks.
She doesn’t speak right away.
