All for her, and her only from this moment on.
There’s an intense pressure, making her wince just a little, but once it’s gone, I know she’s mine forever.
I ask her with my eyes if she’s alright, her low purr giving me the only answer I need to keep going. Filling her and finding a new spot not long after that makes her whole body stiffen and arch against mine.
“Holy shit,” I gasp, I never knew anything could feel so intense, so wonderful.
I never knew she could look so beautiful either, her face shifting and beaming with pleasure, past words by now.
After a few minutes, she starts to move faster under me. Like a lock that fits my key and has opened, she wants to explore everything on offer and so do I.
I rotate my own hips in time with hers, then opposite. Each move has a new edge, a new gate of pleasure for us both until I find the place she needs it most and at the pace she wants it.
Carol is a virgin… was a virgin, sure. But she’s taken to what we share like a duck to water and pretty soon we both realize that for tonight at least, it’s only gonna be hard and fast that gets us both across the line.
Hooking her legs over my shoulders, I feel that magic place inside her again.
Hear her begging me not to take it away from that spot. Her most sensitive place.
I growl low and focus my grip on her, holding her hip with one hand and her fine ass with the other as I thrust in and out of her only slightly, focusing all my attention on her pending climax by pressing my whole weight against her.
“Oh, Jesus! Lucian!” she calls out, and I feel it too.
My balls rising up, the sound of disbelief escaping me as I try and make it last, but also know I need to fill her and soon.
Her nails are like claws in me, drawing an animal cry of my own as I feel pleasure and some pain once I feel her body stiffen under mine.
There’ll be some blood, maybe even a scar or two if I’m lucky, but my focus is on her release.
I grip her harder, my eyes blazing once hers come back into focus.
We both feel the solid heat of my release as her own quivers on top of it.
We’re both drenched, from top to bottom.
I’ve never felt anything so extreme in my life and it seems to keep going, for both of us for some time yet.
Eventually, I collapse alongside her, exhausted but exhilarated, and she clings to me, tracing her smooth hands over my sweat misted body, tasting it, and then kissing me.
There’s nothing between us anymore, we both know it.
“I love you, Carol,” I pant between heavy breaths.
Grabbing my hand in both of hers, she presses them over her smoldering pussy before lifting them and kissing them.
“And I love you, Lucian, more than my own life. More than anything.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Carol
I do love him, I’m not just saying it and neither is he.
No two people could feel what we do and not admit it, not want to shout it from the rooftops.
To think only yesterday I was worried about being put out on the street with nothing. I actually believed I had no one.
And now I have the man of my dreams in my arms, with his even tighter around me.
It’s a miracle.
A Christmas miracle?
Eh, I wouldn’t go that far. A part of what I love about Lucian is he does his part for Christmas, lets his staff have their show as well. But he isn’t driven by it.
Is he?
“Why do you do all that Christmas stuff?” I ask him finally, borderline wanting to confess to him how much I hate Christmas.
My question seems to break him from another train of thought.
“I do stuff for so-called charity, for others all year round. I spend more money than I keep, I’m sure of it. Why?” he asks.
Sitting up on one elbow, feeling it shaking under me, I survey his own look and I know he’s the real deal.
He’s a real life Santa, and like he said, all year round. Not just one day of the year.
“I just don’t get the impression you’re a very Christmassy person is all,” I tell him as I fall onto my back, unable to even hold my own weight after what he’s just done to me.
“What do you mean?” he asks, laughing as he props himself up on his elbow, tracing my hair back over my ear before kissing it.
“The whole dressing up thing, a Christmas ball you said? I don’t get it.”
“You’re right,” he admits. “I wasn’t a Christmas person up until now, but it is good to see some people made happier, their life made a little easier, even just for a while,” he adds.
“Is that why you did what you did, with the apartment?" I ask, remembering that I never have to pay rent again, but also that I never want to see that place again either.
“That was to make sure I could get that creep Jelso off your back, and your neighbors’,” he says with a growling voice.
“I don’t ever want you to go back there to live, Carol. But it’s all yours if you change your mind,” he says.
“Change my mind about what?” I ask, smiling already, smelling the powder in his loaded statement.
“About staying here with me,” he says bashfully, then finally cocking a brow as his hand finds a special part of me under the sheets, making me giggle and squirm.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I assure him, breathing in deep. “But don’t you have anyone else?” I ask. “Like friends, I mean… buddies?’
He scrunches his mouth, thinking for a second.
“Do you?” he asks me, and instead of laughing like I know I should, I understand what he means.
“No, no I don’t,” I tell him honestly, looking down.
“Then we have each other, and I’m inviting you to stay, as long as you want. Forever, preferably… and at least for Christmas,” he proclaims loudly, knowing how to make me laugh.
“I’d love to,” I say, looking up at him, wondering just what I did to deserve such a wonderful man.
A friend and a lover.
“We have a few days at least with no one to bother us,” he says confidently.
“How about you, do you need all the trimmings for Christmas? ‘Cause I think I’ve found the true meaning of it in you, Carol. That’s all.”
“How do you mean?” I ask, thinking I know already.
“It’s not what we have or even what we have to give, it’s who we get to share it with that counts. I’ve never had anyone because I never met the right one in all my forty years. Then yesterday, I met you,” he explains.
We relax back into the pillows, into each other and I feel myself starting to doze, with his fingers teasing me awake every time I do.
I know he hasn’t taken his eyes off me the whole time since we got here.
“Will you show me around?” I ask him, not wanting to move though. In case it breaks this spell.
“Around here? Sure. Whenever you want. You hungry?” he asks, right as his own belly rumbles.
“I guess you are,” I chuckle, but remember I only had breakfast and I think we each just burnt off a million calories in bed just now.
“I can go see what the staff left, they always do, just like the wreaths. They make a Christmas feast and put it in my fridges, hoping I’ll someday have a house full of people.”
“Do they live here?” I ask, and Lucian frowns.
“Not exactly. There’s a chalet about a mile or two over the way, the oldest lives there. Grandpa Kellerman set them up like that. The rest? I dunno really. It’s only a small staff, they won’t bug us,” he assures me.
But I’m intrigued.
I had no idea people still lived like this.
Servants and staff? It’s enough to make me laugh out loud when I think about it, about that check and all those thousands of people working for peanuts.
“Do you know what they get paid?” I ask him, not wanting to sound harsh but he did say he was gonna take care of that stuff.
“Umm… No. I don’t,” he says. “Maybe you can help me look into all that, after the holidays?” he says with a pleading smile.
Making me feel like I’ve said too much already.
“It’s no excuse,” he adds. “But I’ve spent so long listening to others, having them show me charts and tell me everything’s fine, everyone’s happy… I just assumed.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean to tell you what to do,” I tell him, feeling a thousand feet out of my depth.
“I know,” he murmurs, pulling me close again, smacking his lips on my forehead.
“But you have raised some very interesting points. Things that are long overdue for examination,” he says, yawning quietly as we both close our eyes.
There’ll be a time and a place for all that, I tell myself.
For now, I just want Lucian.
Lucian wanting me.
That’s all I want right now.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Lucian
I wouldn’t call it sleep.
More proof of the dream come true.
Dozing lightly with my girl in my arms.
My woman now.
I couldn’t be happier, and I don’t think Carol could be either.
I have a million things I want to tell her, let her feel easy about, but I get that she has some concerns about her own life. And I’ve invited her to fix the one’s she’s found wrong in mine.
We’ll work on things together, but for today, for now. It’s Christmas Eve and I have well and truly opened my present early.
“You hungry?” I murmur, figuring one or both of us has at least one more appetite to fill.
I know what I’d rather do, but being her first time, I’ll let Carol tell me when she wants some more of what I have for her.
“Starved,” she replies and I remember the food situation which is good too because my stomach rumbles again.
“I’ll get us something,” I tell her, moving to get up.
“Or you could just stay,” she whispers, gripping my arm and making me groan with indecision.
“You need to eat, maybe I could show you around?” I offer, tempting her out of bed.
She nods and I help her out of bed and into a robe.
I have a couple laying around, and damn, if she doesn’t look even cuter in an oversized robe.
Sure enough, there’s a feast of Christmas food ready in one of the oversized refrigerators, and I almost lose Carol altogether once she wanders off.
I settle for some steaks and a salad, with what I know will be an almost endless supply of ice cream.
“I thought I was gonna lose you again,” I remark, hooking my arm in Carol’s as she starts to explore the house after I set to heat the stakes.
“What’s through here?” she asks, trying the largest wooden door which is always locked.
“No big secret,” I tell her. “Just an old part of the original house that has no heating. C’mon back to the kitchen. I can’t keep track of you otherwise.”
She frowns, murmuring something about loving old stuff, which I have to remind her includes me.
Settling us back down in the kitchen, I notice her eyes light up at the sight of the steaks sizzling.
“You wanna serve up some salad?” I ask, motioning to the bowls.
“Is this a restaurant too?” she asks, and I laugh, but I guess she’s right.
“It looks like it today,” I tell her. “But it’s not usually so exciting, I assure you.”
Carol dresses up two large plates with salad and I ask her how she likes her meat.
“Any way Lucian gives it to me,” she smiles adoringly, making me growl with satisfaction.
I take that to mean medium-rare. The way I like it.
Once she dives in and has a bite, I know we have more than just each other in common.
A girl who loves a pink steak and eats the whole thing is a winner in my books.
“I forgot to ask,” I tell her between mouthfuls. “Some folks don’t go for-”
But she’s shaking her head, grinning as juice runs down her chin.
She’s a meat girl.
“So, tell me all about Carol,” I ask her, figuring now’s a good a time as any. There’s nothing between us physically and I really do want to get to know her better.
She shrugs, biting some lettuce and beets. “Not much to tell. I never had a rich relative, but I ended up alone too,” she says absently, putting down her fork.
“I didn’t mean to-”
“It’s alright,” she smiles. “I just don’t talk about it much… like I said, nothing to tell.”
But I figure there’s a lot she has to tell, maybe just not right now.
“It’s okay, but tell me something about yourself,” I protest.
She laughs out loud, telling me she got a scholarship to a college, journalism. And that she’s worked shitty jobs ever since trying to make ends meet.
I frown but raise my brow once I see her half-smiling.
“No hobbies, pets?” I offer.
“Nope,” she says, a matter of fact, licking the back of her fork now.
Hinting at her latest hobby, which makes me feel a stirring in my robe.
“Room for ice cream?” I ask, and her breath of inhalation as she scans her nearly empty plate is a worry.
“Any flavor you want,” I add, and she relaxes.
“Chocolate chip?” she asks, making a face with her tongue out.
“It’s front of the shelf,” I tell her, fetching a fresh tub and opening it, putting the whole thing between us.
“You don’t look like an ice cream kind of guy,” she muses. “I mean… look at you.”
I wished I had a story about ‘fast metabolism’ or ‘good genes’. Truth is I have to work my ass off and watch what I eat to stay in shape, but I’m glad she noticed.
“Would it matter?” I ask, suddenly concerned she might not like me so much if I had a spare tire and maybe lost my hair.
“Maybe not,” she remarks with a raised brow, licking her spoon like she just did her fork, sending my dick into overdrive again already.
“And what about me?” she adds. “I think what I mean is a guy who looks like you going for a girl like me.”
I don’t get it.
“What do you mean,” I ask, making sure I don’t have too much of the white death, I love this stuff too much.
“You could have any girl you want, Lucian. Why me?” she says again, and I hear a little bit of that doubt creeping back in. The kind I know from experience.
The voice inside her head that tells her she’s no good.
We all have one, no matter how much money or what we look like.
“Because you’re perfect,” I tell her, leaving it at that.
I’m not gonna play if she only wants to put herself down.
“In time. Carol, you’ll see that. I’ll show you,” I promise. “As long as you don’t make me eat too much of this, I have to stop,” I exclaim, laughing over the ice cream.
“But it’s Christmas,” she protests, pouting and offering me her spoon, which I greedily accept.
“Then you’ve found my only weakness,” I admit.
That and the look in her eye.
“Would you show me around some more?” she asks innocently, her eyes shining.
How could I say no?
It’s her house now too after all.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Carol
Feeling stuffed for the third time in one day at Lucian’s house, and only twice by food, I’m glad when he offers to give me a tour.
I love old houses.
Everybody says that, but I really mean it. I’ve always wanted to live in a really old place, with real history.
Lucian’s has a perfect blend of the very old and new, perfectly mixed.
“Did you decorate it yourself?” I ask, and chuckle at his frown.
“Are you kidding? No, I didn’t. Experts did that, but I did have a final s
ay in the choice of colors and fabrics,” he adds proudly with a grin.
“Old places have their own style, color, and themes,” he adds. “I didn’t know that at first, and once Grandpa passed and everything came to me I was determined to make it fresh but also wanted to keep the original spirit of the place,” he says, almost mournfully.
“But you never grew up here,” I observe, and he agrees.
“I know, it’s like what’s behind that door… almost two hundred years of everything that’s not me. It’s not what I want. Not for me and-”
But he stops short.
“You and your family?” I ask, sounding hopeful.
“Exactly,” he murmurs, pulling me close and kissing me again.
“Tell me about what you want, Carol. Do you want a family?” he asks, and I stop in my tracks, thinking.
Wanting to tell him if it’s with him I could have a dozen children.
But I don’t know if that’s what he really means.
Until he runs his hand over my belly, and I remember that he’s just filled me with a billion potential babies.
“I think… I know I do,” I promise him, standing on tippy toes to peck his cheek and gripping his robe.
“Please show me the rest of the house,” I beg him, feeling so drawn to the door he said was locked.
“Alright, I guess,” he says, laughing to himself, taking me by the hand to a desk in the hallway, a drawer filled with ancient looking keys.
“This… should be it,” he murmurs, holding it up to the light and shrugging.
We reach the end of the corridor near the stairs, the only door visible that shows any signs of age.
Lucian inserts the heavy key and turns the lock, pushing the door wide enough for us to fit through.
“I’ll close it,” he whispers. “It’s cold,” and I nod.
But it isn’t that cold on the other side.
The same design of the house is still there, but just more of that old wood paneling I love so much.
I can see another staircase, but we’re in a giant hallway.
“What’s in here,” I ask, suddenly shivering and making Lucian grunt.
My Christmas Carol: An Instalove Possessive Age Gap Romance (A Man Who Knows Who He Wants Book 220) Page 6