Page 34 of A Merry Penthouse Christmas
Idon’trealizerightaway which toys Beau means. “Oh.Naughty, naughty,” I rumble.
“I wasn’tlooking.”
“I’m sure not. And what did you think about what you found?”
Beau bites his lip, which is almost more mind-altering than the brandy in our eggnog. “I’ve never really used any on myself. Or on anyone else. I haven’t had a ton of experience with male partners. Some! But that was years ago and always only, well… with me, um…”
“With you as the big spoon?”
“Yeah.”
“Lucky you, because I’m flexible with being either spoon—or a knife.”
Beau laughs. Good. I want him relaxed. He doesn’t need to feel nervous around me anymore. “How about we save toy use for after round one?”
That doesn’t reduce his blush, but it does shift his expression from surprised and wary to… eager? “Maybe round… two or three? Depending on the toy.”
I knew we were compatible.
I don’t let the realization that, yes, we are about to do this give Beau any new reasons to shy from me. I kiss him again and start backing us toward the bed. His lips and tongue taste like Christmas, and there is this wonderful softness to his belly when I reach my hands under his shirt—until he flinches like he’s ticklish.
Self-conscious?
Beau suddenly pulls my shirt out of my slacks, reaches up beneath it, and spreads his fingers across my abs. “Knew it,” he grumbles.
“What?”
“Of course you have a six-pack.” Beau drags me back in, and if his tongue has more to say, he chooses instead to spiral it with mine again.
I get my hands back under his shirt to worship the softness he seems so skittish about. We’re not rushed but also mindful of the ticking clock in the form of the baby monitor and the distant sound of even breathing.
Once on the bed, I make it clear he can simply lie back and enjoy for a while. I’m going to.
“You don’t have to do all the work,” Beau huffs while I’m undoing his jeans. He starts to undo my pants too.
“I won’t. You get to be the big spoon, remember?”
Beau hoists his hips, and we both drag each other’s pants down to our knees.
“God, I love your thighs,” we say in unison.
We laugh. If Beau has any additional physical hang-ups, I think I just put them to bed—where I am going to enjoy keeping him for as long as I can.
We kick off our pants, and I straddle his hips, focused on getting our shirts off next. Beau’s curls distract me, however, with how gorgeously they halo him on my pillow as if Botticelli himself painted him.
When a moan bites out from between his lips, our underwear definitely need to go.
Despite our lack of clothes finally, the room feels sweltering, like our leaking precum might steam away. Beau runs his hands up the divots of my abs with the same look of wonder he offers Christmas lights, and I take it as the best compliment he could ever give me, while reaching between us.
“Arik!” He rocks into my grasp.
I stretch my fingers enough to take hold of us both, pumping us together as our hips begin to move.
“Oh yes… ohGod, yes. Why weren’t we doing this the whole time?”
I laugh and lean down to whisper, “Because we were beinggood… but now I think we’ve earnednaughty.”
“Won’t Santa be disappointed?”
