Page 30 of No Strings Christmas

‘Emily and I broke up a week before Christmas. I was never a huge fan of this time of year but that kind of cemented it. I can’t hear a Christmas carol without thinking about that disastrous night.’

‘You’re still hung up on her?’

‘I’m hung up on how I let her affect me,’ I correct. ‘I was an absolute idiot not to see what was going on. After two years I should have realised she had no intention of divorcing him. After two weeks I should have damned well seen that she was lying to me.’ I push my fingers through my hair with irritation. ‘I don’t believe in regrets, but I’m...disappointed in myself for the whole sordid chapter.’

Jessica reaches over, puts her hand on mine and squeezes it. I’m surprised by the gesture, and kind of touched by it as well. ‘We all make mistakes. At least you learned from yours.’

‘Yeah, no married women.’

‘And no love,’ she tacks on.

‘Right. No love.’ Our eyes lock and it’s as if we’re making a pact or something. Satisfaction shifts through me.

* * *

I take his hard cock deep in my mouth, my body over his, my breasts brushing his waist as his mouth torments my clit, his tongue running over my sensitive cluster of nerves until I can barely breathe, much less focus on what I’m doing. I move instinctively though, his primal noises groaned against my sex driving me wild—more wild than I’ve ever felt in my life.

I taste him in my mouth—just a hint—and I feel heat flood my veins, the animalistic passion of this almost tipping me over the edge. His stubble brushes between my legs, his fingers digging into my butt, massaging me there as I try to keep hold of my sanity, but pleasure is carrying me away, lifting me on a wave, extracting me from this world, this life, from Zach. I grip the base of his cock with one hand, flicking his tip with my tongue but I’m coming, so hard, against his face, his mouth relentless, skilled, perfect.

I groan, my mouth around his tip, but then he’s moving, pulling away from me at the same time he reaches for my hips and lifts me, holding me on all fours. I hear the crinkling of foil and then he pushes into my still-trembling body, pushing me back onto the wave of pleasure, so that it’s almost painful because every nerve ending in my body is throbbing with euphoria.

‘Don’t stop,’ I groan again, pressing my face into the bedding.

‘I won’t.’ He moves faster, his fingers still kneading my butt, and I feel every single touch deep in my soul. He holds me close as he drives into me and as my orgasm builds his own releases, his hand coming around to stroke my clit and tip me over the edge with him. His other hand reaches for my breasts, lifting me up, so my back is pressed to his chest, our bodies glued together, his hands roaming my body as though I am a part of him, his cock buried inside me as if it’s a part of me. I whimper in pleasure, biting down on my lip, heat like lava coursing through me.

He drops his head and bites my shoulder, just lightly, but my whole body jerks in response. His fingers tweak an overly sensitive nipple and then drop back to my clit, lightly sensitising me, gently buzzing my flesh as though to remind me that he can make me come again and again and again so easily.

So easily.

I am putty in his hands. And I don’t even care. I collapse forward, rolling onto my back, and as if to prove his point he brings his mouth to my sex once more, his tongue whispering promises to my throbbing, indulged flesh. I feel worshipped. I feel as though his purpose in life is to pleasure me. I lift my arms over my head, digging my fingers into the bedsheet, staring up at the ceiling as he catches me high on the wave and holds me there, my orgasm so intense I can barely breathe. My lungs burn with the sting of this, my body is on fire, my soul eternally trapped in this moment. And then I’m crashing and flying, a thousand shards of me splintering into the atmosphere as I break apart cell by cell, lightning striking me into pieces that no one can ever catch. I collapse against the sheets, my breath the only sound in the room, each a torment, a battle, my lungs fighting my brain, my instincts to simply shut down and process this.

I sweep my eyes shut, needing to block out everything and everyone—even Zach. I moan softly and stretch, a slow smile spreading over my face as bit by bit my feet come back to earth.

It isn’t just that he’s great in bed, it’s that he’s thoughtful as anything. He’s the least selfish lover I’ve ever had. Most guys would be done after they’ve come, but not Zach. I can’t believe how much he loves making me come. I push up onto elbows that feel like jelly, my eyes hooded as they meet his.

‘I feel like I’ve died and gone to heaven,’ I say honestly.

‘And you’re a perfect angel.’ He grins, climbing up my body and kissing me hard, so I can taste myself on his lips. It’s so erotic. I run my fingernails down his back to the dip at the base of his spine, trailing them across his skin, our eyes linked.

‘Thank you.’ I don’t know why I say it, it just feels appropriate.

‘Thank you right back.’ He runs his hand over my cheek. My heart twists. Something shifts inside me. I remember his assertion that he doesn’t do missionary. I was baffled by that at first but with his body on top of mine, our eyes linked, I get it. It’s too intimate. Too close. It takes a purely physical act and turns it into something more.

Strange that I’ve never seen it that way. For me, sex is an exchange and it doesn’t matter what form that takes, nothing changes the parameters of what I want from it. But...with Zach...maybe because this has already lasted longer than I expected, I feel as if imitating true intimacy could be really dangerous.

Dangerous? That’s just being paranoid.

Nonetheless, I push at his chest with both hands, surprising him and rolling him onto his back. I lift up, straddling his waist, somehow changing the sense of intimacy when I’m on top and in control.

As tends to happen with Zach, I’ve lost all sense of time and place, but a quick glance at the digital clock on his bedside table shows it’s the early hours of the morning.

‘I have to go,’ I say with true remorse.

He catches my hands in his, lacing our fingers together. ‘Why?’

‘Because I’m having breakfast with my mother and sister tomorrow,’ I say with a lift of my eyes heavenward. ‘Then shopping on Orchard Road.’

‘Shopping?’

---