Page 122 of The Unhinged Christmas of a Cat Lady
Chapter thirty-three
This Christmas I Give You My Heart
Miranda
The kitchen feels suddenly smaller, the air thicker with anticipation. His dark eyes search mine, and for a moment, the world holds its breath. I wait for him to say something… anything.
Am I too late?
Then, with a swiftness that takes me by surprise, he closes the distance between us again, his lips pressing firmly against mine. It’s a kiss that says everything I was hoping for. It's a declaration of desire, of acceptance, ofus.
His hands are on my waist, pulling me closer, and I feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric of my leggings. The kitchen island behind me is cool as he presses me against it, his kisses growing more urgent, more demanding. I wrap my arms around his neck, my fingers tangling in his dark hair, and surrender to the moment. The world beyond this kitchen ceases to exist; there’s only Jasper, only this hunger that’s been building between us since I declared usjust friends.
“Miranda,” he murmurs against my lips, his voice rough with need. “You’re sure about this?”
I nod, though I know he can’t see it. “More sure than I’ve ever been about anything.”
His hands slide down my sides, his touch sending shivers down my spine. He steps back just enough to look at me, his gaze intense, searching. “Then let me show you how much I want this,” he says, his voice low and husky.
Before I can respond, he’s lifting me, his strong arms cradling me as he sets me down on the edge of the kitchen island. The cool granite beneath me contrasts sharply with the warmth of his body as he steps between my legs, his hands roaming over me with a hunger that mirrors my own. I feel exposed, vulnerable, yet utterly safe in his presence.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his lips brushing against my jawline, my neck, sending shivers down my spine. His hands move to the hem of my hoody, pushing it up slowly, deliberately, his touch both tender and possessive. I close my eyes, tilting my head back to give him better access, my breath coming in short, shallow gasps.
“Jasper,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t tease me today because I need you close… as close as you can get.”
He looks up at me, his eyes dark with desire, and for a moment, he pauses, as if seeking permission. I reach up, cupping his face in my hands, and pull him back to me, my lips seeking his in a kiss that’s desperate, needy. He gets the message.
With a growl of approval, he finishes pulling off the hoody and letting it fall to the floor. His hands move to my bra, his fingers deftly unhooking it and sliding the straps down my arms. I’m exposed to him now, my breasts bare, my nipples tight with anticipation. He lowers his head, his lips closing around one peak, his tongue swirling, teasing, and I arch my back, a soft moan escaping my lips.
“Fuck, you taste so good,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my sensitive skin. His hands move to my leggings, pulling on it desperately. I lift my hips, helping him as he slides them down my legs. My unicorn slippers drop to the floor. My knickers come off at the same time as my leggings, leaving me completely bare to his gaze.
I feel heat creep up my cheeks, but there’s no shame in this moment, only desire. Jasper’s eyes rake over me, his expression hungry, appreciative. “You’re the best Christmas present ever,” he says, his voice thick with want.
He steps back, just enough to shed his own clothes, and I drink in the sight of him—his broad shoulders, the defined muscles of his chest, the way the trail of dark hair leads to his erection. He’s every bit as breathtakingly hot as I remember, and my breath catches in my throat as he steps back toward me. The kitchen feels impossibly intimate now, the air heavy with the scent of our desire.
Jasper’s hands move to my thighs, spreading them slightly as he steps closer, his cock pressing against my core. I reach down, my fingers tracing the length of him, and he hisses in a breath, his eyes closing briefly as if to savour the sensation.
“I need you,” he says, his voice a rough whisper. “Now. But I need to get a cond—”
“Unless you are saying condiment, and I would have questions at that,” I laugh. “Don’t worry. I am on the pill.”
“You sure?”
“I don’t want there to be anything between us.” Those words cause a groan to erupt from his lips.
There’s no hesitation now, no more words needed. He positions himself at my entrance, his eyes locked on mine, and with one slow, deliberate thrust, he fills me.
I gasp at the sensation, my nails digging into his shoulders as he begins to move, his hips rocking against mine in a rhythm that’s both urgent and tender. The kitchen island digs into my back, but I barely notice, too lost in the sensation of him, of us.
“Jasper,” I breathe, my voice trembling. “Faster.”
He obliges, his movements becoming more frantic, more desperate. The sound of our bodies meeting fills the kitchen, a primal rhythm that speaks to something deep within us both. I meet his thrusts, my hips lifting to greet him, my fingers tangling in his hair as I pull him down for a kiss that’s hungry, possessive.
“I’m made for you,” he groans against my lips, his voice hoarse with need. “And you are so perfect for me.”
I don’t respond, too lost in the sensation to form words. My body is coiled tight, every nerve ending singing with anticipation. Jasper’s hands move to my hips, holding me steady as he drives into me, his movements relentless, unyielding.
“Come for me, Princess,” he commands, his voice a low growl. “Let me feel you.”
