I HAVE NEVER BEEN SO happy to say good-bye to studying and exams. The boy’s house is currently undergoing a transformation to turn it into
Maple Hills’ best Santa’s grotto, which is Robbie’s dream. For someone so normally chilled out, he’s incredibly stressed about the whole grotto situation…that he is solely responsible for starting.
JJ says he’s an old man trapped in a young man’s body and is allowed to be grumpy by default. Henry says that Robbie needs an excuse to boss them all about outside of hockey. Sabrina says he’s rocking a dominant personality, and it’s hot as fuck.
I’m not sure which of them is correct, but when enough mistletoe to fill the entire house arrived this morning, I decided to stay out of the way when it comes to putting it somewhere.
Sabrina and I have been drinking candy cane martinis and dancing to Michael Bublé while scratching our heads, trying to work out where to put everything. Eventually, I had to give up because there was too much. I decide to go back to my other task, staring at my laptop and deciding whether to book a flight to Seattle for Christmas.
Stepping through the front door, Henry stops and takes in the new and improved living room. “You’re both slow. Me and JJ would have been done by now.”
He manages to narrowly avoid the ornament Brin launches at him, stepping out of the way, so it hits Robbie in the chest as he rolls through the doorway. He throws it back at her. “Thanks, babe. I’ve missed you too.”
“Honey, I’m home!” JJ shouts as he struts through the front door in his suit.
They’ve all been in Utah for a game, so they had to stay there overnight. Even though Nathan isn’t allowed to play, he’s still allowed to travel and watch. Although he ended up sharing a room with Mattie and Bobby, so I think he wishes he hadn’t gone. They tried to sneak women back into the room, and Nate got woken up by the sound of Faulkner tearing them a new one.
He flashes me a beautiful smile as he walks in, duffel bag slung over his shoulder. I miss my legs being slung over his shoulder. He has broad shoulders, and they look good in his suit. All of him looks good in his suit. I’m thinking about how tight it is around his thighs when he lands on the couch next to me, mouth tugged up in the corner. “Stop eye-fucking me, Allen.”
He’s right, I’m practically drooling and I’m not even being discreet about it. “I’m sorry, you just look exceptionally good in your suit. I’m having a moment in my head.”
“We can have a moment in real life if you want,” he teases, picking me up and putting me on his lap. He takes a look at my laptop screen and gives me a sympathetic look. “Still can’t take the plunge?”
“I’ve been trying for an hour.” His hand gently runs up and down my shin as I explain for probably the millionth time how I do want to go home, but it’s just all my crappy excuses. He knows how I feel because we’ve talked about it at length, and he understands that I’m stalling but thankfully he’s not calling me out on it.
“Why don’t you come to Colorado with me?” he asks when I’m listing off my excuses again. “My family won’t be there; we can skate on the lake in my backyard and use the spa at the ski resort as much as you want. Tell your parents it’s competition prep.”
“Why are you searching for flights from Seattle?”
“I thought maybe we could go to your parents for a couple of days then fly to Eagle County via Denver. Or you could go, then fly to meet me or whatever. I think you should see your mom and dad. I honestly think you’ll be upset when New Year rolls around and you haven’t seen them.”
The prospect of staying at my parents’ house with Nate feels super serious, but in a way, makes the anxiety I’m feeling slip away. “Let me speak to my mom first, okay?”
“Okay, but don’t leave it too late. Santa is coming after all.”
 |
ADDING to all the reasons my planner is wonderful, being organized for Christmas is up there near the top.
I make notes all year round of things people mention liking and at Christmas, I narrow it down. Well, everyone but one person.
“What do you want for Christmas?” “Nothing.”
“Nate,” I snap. “Tell me what you want for Christmas or you’re getting coal.”
“I don’t want anything.” “Nathan!”
This argument has been going on for days, but I’m running out of days to buy him something. Everyone else was so easy, but Nate never gives anything away, so I never have anything to write down.
I bought Henry new sketching pencils and paints, and I bought Robbie some hockey merch. JJ doesn’t celebrate Christmas, so he got gifts last month during Diwali. I bought us a Vietnamese cooking class for two to continue our food education in the new year, since we enjoy cooking together so much.
But Nathan has nothing.
Our pillow barricade was never reinstated, so it’s not that hard to climb on top of him and demand his full attention. “Please, tell me what you want. I want to get you something that will make you happy.”
“You already make me happy. Just let me have you.”
“But you already have me,” I whine. “And you can’t unwrap me.”
“I could unwrap you if you’d let me…” he rasps, hand slipping under my T-shirt to tickle across my stomach.
I can feel him growing hard between my thighs and every thought about distractions and conflict of interest instantly leaves my head.
Four weeks doesn’t seem long in the grand scheme of things, but the more I’ve got to know him, the more I’ve wanted to climb him like a tree. There is something about learning the tough, muscular hockey player’s favorite movie is Coco.
It does funny things to your insides.
When I hold my arms up in the air, he sits up and pulls the T-shirt over my head. His brown eyes darken and the heat of his gaze travels over me,
sending a jolt of anticipation up my spine. My bra goes next, his tongue immediately flicking over my already taut nipple. Traveling up my chest, he kisses his way to my mouth, grasping my face between his hands.
“We breaking all the rules?” he asks against my mouth. There’s hardly any room between us and I swear this is the most content I’ve felt in weeks.
“Definitely.”
Finally, his mouth meets mine, tongue exploring fervently as my hips develop a mind of their own and grind against him. Each swirl of my hips sends the most addictive wave of pleasure through me.
“God, I’ve missed you.” His teeth nip at my bottom lip, voice low and strained. “I’m not going to last if you keep doing that to me.”
“Tell me what you want for Christmas or I won’t let you come at all,” I tease, reaching between us to grip him through his boxers. His shocked chuckle is instantly replaced with a low, throaty moan as I rub up and down. “Come on, Hawkins, just one little Christmas present.”
“I don’t know!” My back hits the mattress as he flips us over, his hard body hovering over mine. He works his way down my body, stopping to lick and kiss every spot until his mouth is hovering right over the damp spot on my panties. He frowns as he looks up from the spot between my thighs, tugging at the lace. “These are in the way.”
The second his mouth is on me I’m climbing, back arching from the bed, grinding into his face. Desperate, needy cries that he doesn’t seem to give a shit about ring out as he takes his time, sucking my throbbing clit into his mouth. I can’t take it. The pleasure rolls through me; a pleased grumble vibrates in his throat as his tongue pierces me, sending me tumbling over the edge, crying his name.
You’d think that’d be enough for him to relent, but it’s not. He locks his arms around my legs, pinning me in position, gripping me tighter when the oversensitive and overstimulated aching has me trying to squirm away. The sensation is too much, and if my back arches off the bed any more, I swear I will snap. It’s been weeks of just me and the shower head, so watching him bury his head between my legs
and devour me, moaning happily, is more than I can handle. “One more, baby.”
And, of course, my body does whatever he says.
“Clever girl,” he coos, climbing back up my body, brushing the hair from my damp forehead. I push his boxers down, letting his dick spring
free, and move my hand up and down it, watching his eyes roll back in his head.
“Tell me what you want for a Christmas, Nathan.”
He thrusts into my hand slowly. “How can you still think about Christmas when I just made you come twice?”
“Because it’s important to me to do something nice for you.”
“I only want you, Anastasia. Nothing you can buy me is better than the past four weeks with you. Give me more of that, and I’ll be happy.”
I pull his mouth to mine, tasting myself on his tongue. I’m lost for words. How could I not be? This man blows every negative thought I’ve ever had about exclusivity away. Why would I ever want to share myself, share him?
He kisses me, cradles my face, and gives me every sliver of his care and attention. His arm reaches toward the bedside drawer, and the words spill out of my mouth. “We don’t have to use a condom…unless you want to. I’m on birth control, and I’m not having sex with anyone else. I trust you,” I take a deep breath, “and I hope you trust me.”
I don’t think I’ve ever seen him speechless. He finally clears his throat after staring at me with a slack jaw for thirty seconds. “You’re serious?”
“Yeah. I’ve never done it without before but don’t feel pressured.”
“Neither have I. Oh my—fuck.” He lines himself up and the anticipation is killing me. “You’re sure?”
“Please, we’ve waited long enough.”
Nate sinking into me bare is like nothing I’ve ever experienced; everything is ten times more intense, and I can feel every bit of him. He’s panting into my shoulder, letting me adjust after filling me.
“Oh my God. So, fucking good, Anastasia. Jesus Christ, you’re so wet and ready for me.”
He pulls back his hips and snaps them forward, skin slapping echoing around the room. My skin feels ready to burst into flames and every nerve is on edge. I want more.
“Hard and fast,” I whisper, wrapping my legs around him and crossing my feet at the bottom of his back.
“I won’t last.” He groans. “You feel too good. It’s taking every ounce of self-control not to go right now.”
Using my feet to lift my hips and slide up and down him, rolling my hips when I get back to the tip.
I want him to pound me into the bed and see him lose his mind, but Mr. Generous is too concerned about turning me into a quivering wreck. Again.
“I don’t care,” I tell him honestly. “Give me everything you’ve got.”
Sliding his hands under me, his fingers wrap around to cling to my shoulders. I’m trying to hide the giddy expression on my face, but he spots it, and his lips tug into a smirk. “Wrap your arms around me and remember you asked for it.”
Nobody can ever say Nathan Hawkins doesn’t know how to take instructions.
His hands pull me down as he drives forward, every thrust has me crying into his mouth, and digging my nails into his shoulders. My legs are shaking, and every time he goes deep, my back arches, and my legs tighten around him.
“Nathan…”
“I know, baby. I know.” His forehead falls to mine, noses brushing against each other, and our mouths crash together desperately. “Look at you taking it all like a good fucking girl.”
“I’m so close,” I cry, gripping the back of his neck tightly with one hand and rubbing frantically between my legs with the other.
“Whose pussy is this, Anastasia?” he gasps, his thrusts getting rougher and sloppier.
“Oh my God. Yours. It’s yours.” “Come for me. Let me feel you.” “Nathan, oh fuck—”
My entire body thrashes, tightens, stills, and melts simultaneously. I don’t know which sensation to run with, so I settle for disintegrating. His body collapses on top of mine, chest heaving, body shaking as I feel him throb and jerk inside of me, “Fuuuuuuck.”
We lie there for minutes, stunned to silence, him still hard inside me, lazily kissing. I’m not sure how anything is supposed to feel better than this, how I could ever be expected to settle for less.
When I eventually get my breath back, and the post-orgasm fogginess begins to clear, I rake my fingers through his hair. “I didn’t make you tell me what you want as a Christmas present,” I grumble, disappointed in myself for getting dicknotized and forgetting.
He snorts, his breath tickling against my neck where his head is currently resting. “I think you just gave me my Christmas present.”
Merry Christmas, I suppose.
