Page 33 of Say Yule Stay
“Walker, what?—”
I don’t get to finish my question because as fast as he pulled me down, he spins me away from him and presses my chest down against the cool granite.
Oh my God.
The anticipation is killing me, and I can’t help but push my ass back toward him in hopes of something.
Anything.
I’m rewarded when his palm comes down on my rear, his hand massaging the sting away before doing it again.
I moan, the sound echoing in the kitchen as he drags my leggings and panties down to my knees. The air is cool against my heated flesh, adding another layer of want to my already throbbing core.
The clanking of his belt buckle and the smooth sound of his zipper have me panting as he taps my ankle with his foot. “Wider, baby. That’s it. God, you look so fucking sexy.”
He spanks me again, gripping and kneading my cheek as he lines the head of his cock up with my entrance.
“That feels so good…yes.”
“You’ve definitely been a good girl, haven’t you?” The praise is such a turn-on, as his hands roam all over my body, his cock sliding in and out of me in a torturously slow rhythm.
“Walker.”
“I love hearing you say my name like that. Did you like when I spanked you?”
“Yes.”
“You’re fucking perfect, Lace. This pussy was made for me, wasn’t it?” His hand comes down on one cheek and then the other. “Wasn’t it?”
“Yes!”I manage to cry out, but it’s nearly impossible to focus as he spreads me wider, sinks in deeper—everything pushing me closer to the edge.
I’ve never felt anything like it—the lust and desire woven so fiercely with love and adoration. It’s all I need to send me flying.
Walker curses as he pistons into me, the intensity of my release stealing my breath as I succumb to every wave of pleasure. I wish I could stay in this moment, live in the euphoria he’s created.
Because it’s beautiful and raw.
Real.
We’re real.
And I’m kidding myself if I think I’ll survive living in Chicago when I could havethisevery night.
“Let’s get you in the shower and then we can see how many times I can make you come before midnight.”
“It’s a Christmas miracle,” I joke but I’m only half kidding, “but I might pass out.”
“Then we’ll sleep,” he murmurs, pressing light kisses across my shoulder. “Doesn’t matter as long as I have you."
“I’m yours.”
28
WALKER
Last night was hands down the best night of my life. The sex had been out of this world, but the connection I felt with her was unmatched. I’d made love to her after we showered, then we fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms like we’ve done it a million times.
And I woke to thoughts of moving back to Chicago with her just so we wouldn’t have to be apart. How long would it be? A year? Six months? Six months isn’t exactly a long time, but it’s more than I want to spend in a different city—a year would be unbearable.
