Page 69 of A Manny for Christmas

And me?

I lie back on the pillow of my crossed arms and enjoy the view. Just for a minute, before I’m compelled to rise up and kiss her, feel her tits rub against my chest as she bounces. But right now, I stay horizontal. The sight in front of me has me biting down on my lower lip, hard. And the sensation of her inner walls dragging up and down on my dick has me praying very hard I don’t disgrace myself.

She’s exquisite. Always has been. And always will be, I realise. Her beautiful face still bears the flush of the orgasm I gave her. The warmth of the fire as she exerts herself can’t be hurting, either. Those pale blue eyes are hooded with desire. She’s half seeing me, half in a place where sensation has overpowered sight. And her hair is a spun web of gold, messed up just the right amount while cascading over her white skin. Caressing it.

I was right. It must reach her arse.

Molly leans forward, her hand brushing over my chest, down the trail of hair that intersects my abs, swirling in the hair at the base of my cock before she arches, reaching behind her and cupping my balls. My teeth sink a little deeper into my lower lip, because not only does the fact that her fingers are teasing my balls almost undo me, but the arch of her body, the thrust of her tits as she does so is pretty fucking amazing, too.

And the combination? It spurs me into action. I hoist myself up to sitting, one arm supporting my weight behind me as the other roams over her. My movements are hungry, hurried, as we continue to move in sync, finding a rhythm we’ve never truly forgotten. I stroke her back, and palm her breast, and knead the perfect globe of her arse, and tug at her hair, wrapping as much of it as I can around my wrist so I can guide her face to mine, kissing her desperately as I thrust off the floor with as much strength as I can muster.

I’m not the only one whose movements are hungry. Molly claws at my shoulders and grabs at my hair as best she can as her tongue thrashes against mine. She matches my dick stroke for stroke, pulling almost the entire way out of me before sitting back down with a force that has me grunting every time our bodies slam against each other.

Again.

And again.

And again.

I can tell by the way she’s kissing me that’s she’s close to coming again. Her hands are everywhere. The lifts and falls of her hips pick up. I release her hair so it tumbles around us both and, wedging a hand between us, find her clit again. As my fingers hit it, she moans desperately into my mouth, despite the fact that my dextrousness has gone out the window. I’m a fucking mess, so ready to blow, hoping and praying that Mol comes before I do.

And she does, pouring her moans into my mouth, bucking against me, grinding down so hard on my cock that I see stars as the unbearable heat that’s built in the base of my spine roars through my balls and up my cock, my own orgasm ripping through me as I empty myself into her. I bury my face in the crook of her neck, shuddering through a climax so monumental that it temporarily blinds me.

As we come down, I wind my arm tightly around her waist, her hair, and lower us both back onto the rug, pulling her right down on top of me. My hand flops out to the side like I’m dead, and I really, really might be.

‘Holy fucking Christ,’ I mutter into the hair covering my face as she collapses on my chest, panting.

‘I feel like I just ran a marathon,’ she gasps. ‘My quads are burning. I don’t think I could have held out much longer.’

With great effort, I raise my arm enough to give her a half-hearted slap on her arse before using it to lift her hair off my face. I don’t much fancy dying of suffocation when I’ve just hit the jackpot with the woman of my dreams.

‘You were a fucking beauty,’ I tell her, and she nips at my lower lip.

‘And you’re a machine. That magic dick. Told you I missed it.’ She hovers so close above me that our noses brush. ‘Was it always that good? I feel like that was better than ever. Was it? Or were we both just more desperate and sexually frustrated?’

I laugh. ‘Bit of both, I suspect. We never exactly held off when we were together. This time, we had to wait for it.’

She groans and, laying her palms flat on my chest, pulls herself up, her hair tickling my pecs. My cock twitches inside her as I admire the view.

‘It was worth the wait,’ she says. She looks just-fucked, and thoroughly sated, and utterly beautiful. ‘That was incredible.’

I snag her wrist as she looks around, presumably for something to clean herself up with.

‘Don’t even think about it,’ I warn her. I’m getting hard again. ‘I’m getting another round in, and I’ll do all the work this time.’

25

MOLLY

It’s hard to sit coyly in Nora and Theo’s beautiful, festive drawing room, and make conversation with the girls, and not stand on the coffee table and shout out loud that I had hours of sex last night. An entire evening of wanton fucking. Of greedy exploration. Of dragging my nose and lips and tongue and teeth over every inch of Max Rutherford’s hard body before he scooped me up and carried me up to my room and refused to leave.

We’re sitting in a vague square on two facing sofas and several armchairs, getting stuck into the white wine and the abundance of canapes Nora has arranged over the enormous coffee table, because she’s the consummate hostess. She and Theo got together when they were supposed to be fake-dating each other, and she was always adamant that she wanted a secure future with a sensible guy in a Georgian rectory.

So, to prove to her that he could be a stable life partner, Theo surprised her with a Georgian rectory.

Obviously.

And it really is stunning. This is their first Christmas in their home, and although they’ve only been in the place a few months, they’ve both worked hard at turning it into a beautiful retreat. Tonight, a massive tree twinkles in the corner of the drawing room, the sculptural Georgian fireplace is bedecked with what I recognise as Sorrel Farm garlands, and a perfectly tasteful olive and eucalyptus wreath with an outsize winter-white velvet bow adorns every one of the four glass doors that overlook the now-dark gardens. The sheer size of this place suggests they have serious plans for a family.

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