Page 128 of Babies for the Christmas Grump
“Please,” I gasp, shameless, nails digging into his shoulders. “Now.”
He doesn’t make me wait.
One sharp thrust and he’s inside me, stretching me, filling me so completely I cry out, biting down on my lip to keep from screaming his name loud enough for the whole hotel to hear. Hegroans, head dropping to my shoulder, his breath hot against my neck.
“Fuck, Sunny,” he grits out, holding me pinned to the wall as he starts to move, hard and fast, every thrust making my body arch, desperate for more. “You feel so damn good.”
I cling to him, arms wrapped around his neck, mouth pressed to his ear as I pant, moan, beg. The elevator rocks with the force of him slamming into me, the slick sound of our bodies drowning out the soft hum of the motor.
Every nerve ending is on fire. My entire body is wound tight, trembling, so close it’s almost unbearable.
“Ryder…” I gasp, barely coherent. “I’m… oh…”
“Come for me,” he growls, teeth scraping my throat as his hips piston into mine, ruthless. “Let go, baby. I’ve got you.”
And I do.
The orgasm rips through me, sharp and blinding, my entire body shuddering against him as I cry out his name.
He keeps thrusting, harder, faster, until he follows me over the edge with a guttural groan, burying himself deep inside me as he shudders, his whole body going tense before finally breaking apart.
For a long moment, there’s nothing but the sound of our ragged breathing, the faint whir of the elevator as it slows. My legs are still wrapped tight around him, my head against his shoulder, both of us clinging to one another, trying not to collapse.
The elevator dings. The doors slide open.
We don’t move.
Ryder chuckles against my neck, low and rough. “Guess we should… straighten up.”
“Or,” I murmur, grinning even though I can barely breathe, “we could just… ride back down.”
His laugh vibrates against my skin, and I know right then, I’m never getting enough of him.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Ryder
December 25th
It’s Christmas Day.Yesterday is a million miles away, and all I want to do is focus on today. No Vincent. No hotel drama. No spreadsheets. Just… peace.
I wake up late, the room still a little too warm from the fire we had going last night, and there’s something about the quiet that feels… different today.
It’s not just the holiday. It’sher.
Sunny’s in the kitchen when I finally roll out of her bed and head down into the hotel. Her hair is a little messy, but still, she somehow looks effortlessly gorgeous.
She’s wearing one of those ridiculous Christmas sweaters that turns her into a Christmas card, and I can’t stop smiling.
Tinsel’s lounging on the counter, eyes half-closed, clearly in full “holiday cat mode.”
“Good morning,” Sunny says, turning with a grin. “Coffee’s almost ready. Help yourself.”
I pull myself together enough not to look like a complete idiot staring at her and grab a mug from the counter. The place isquiet, still, the hotel’s usual hum of activity replaced by the soft rustle of people getting ready for dinner.
We’re not working today. Everyone’s off. Most of the staff have gone home to their families, but for those of us left, we’re all part of something bigger—a little weird family of misfits.
Marjorie is here too, of course, which makes it even more… real.
