Stocking Stuffers

by Erin McLellan

  She glanced up at him. “You okay? Does it hurt at all? Tell the truth.”

  His cock quickly stiffened, the veins prominent. It felt different but not bad. Just intense. “No. It’s good.”

  “Great.” She pressed a little button next to the oval to turn the vibration on. It created a soft pulsing against the back of his balls and sent a rush of fire to his head. “What about now? Still okay?”

  “Uh-huh.” He was better than okay. He could hardly form words.

  Next he skinned on a condom and dribbled lube over his cock. She stared, eyes hungry again. He held up the Fingerslip. “Trade?”

  “Okay.” Her voice was breathy.

  With a smile, he took the Fingerslip off his hand and tenderly placed it onto her index finger.

  “Remember when you asked me if I’d heard of the orgasm gap?” He grabbed her by the hips and flipped her over onto her hands and knees. “This okay?”

  “Yes.” She went down onto her elbows, her head hanging. He spread her ass cheeks, and she made a vulnerable, hitching sound. Her body was gorgeous. Everything about it. He nudged the Rimmy, and she shivered hard.

  “I want to … Can I take this out?” he asked, with another nudge against the sex toy. He wanted to see all of her. She nodded, so he gently pulled the Rimmy free.

  He lightly traced her asshole with his thumb, trying to touch every part of her, learn her, experience as much as he could before this ended.

  “I know about the orgasm gap because of romance novels,” he continued. He pressed the head of his slick cock between the lips of her pussy, and it was so warm and so soft that he couldn’t help but push in another inch. The sensation on his dick was incredible, more powerful than usual, like his skin was extra sensitive.

  They both sucked in greedy, lusty breaths at the same time.

  Through gritted teeth, he said, “Heroines in romance novels normally have double the orgasms of the heroes. It’s a reversal of the orgasm gap in real life. I love that about romance novels. One of my favorite things.”

  He thrust deeper, and her back bowed, the deep ditch of her spine a beautiful, bright line.

  “Am I going to be able to help you come again, Sasha?” he asked. A blush was spreading across her back, and he was sure it would be vibrant on her breasts and face, if he were to turn her over.

  “Yeah, probably,” she said breathlessly. “The lube was a good choice.”

  He laughed. Everything was wet and smooth. He rolled his hips into her, shafting deeper. Each thrust in felt like the first one, and the vibration behind his balls had him panting already. He couldn’t help but grab the meaty flesh of her ass. She had thin silvery-white stretch marks on her hips, extending onto her butt cheeks. So fucking sexy. Pleasure curled in the base of his spine, like a tight, hot coil of need.

  He touched her asshole again, and her whole body shook, her hips lifting up toward him. His hand was still a little slick from the lube but not slick enough.

  “Sasha, can I?” He tapped his thumb against her hole lightly and thrust his cock into her pussy harder.

  “God, yes. Fill me up.” Her voice was wrecked, shot.

  The bottle of lube had landed somewhere by his knee and he found it again, dribbling it over her crack. When she was slick, he pressed his thumb inside her ass, gripping her round cheek with his fingers. She was so hot and tight inside. It made his head spin.

  Her body went rigid, and words poured from her, like a damn had broken. “So … oh fuck, Perry. More, please. I want … You feel incredible.”

  He slowed the roll of his hips, which made her wilder. She bucked against him, and her elbows collapsed out from under her until her chest was flat against the bed.

  She reached underneath herself, putting the Fingerslip to use. He could feel the vibration from the toy moving through her. It made his eyes roll back, and he had to grip her side with his free hand so he didn’t collapse on her. He stroked up her ribs and over her shoulder with one hand and rolled his thumb in her ass with his other.

  “Such a good … multitasker,” she said, gasping and trembling.

  He tried to laugh, but it came out as a hungry moan. He knew, without a doubt, that if not for the cock ring, he’d have come at that first press of his thumb into her ass.

  His heart thundered in his ears, his body spurring him on to dive into her body, to drench himself in this perfect pleasure. To take and give as much as possible.

  He could see her profile, and her cheeks were flushed a Christmas red. Her hair was damp from sweat, and she seemed incapable of any words, any noise, besides sweet, broken cries.

  He couldn’t believe he was inside her like this. Inside her in two places—his cock in the smooth, wet warmth of her pussy, his thumb in her amazing ass. She quaked as he pushed his thumb slightly deeper. Her body tightened everywhere.

  “Come on, beautiful,” he whispered.

  “Perry!”

  She came again, wrenching and violent, this time with his name on her lips. He had to grind his teeth against the onslaught of his own pleasure, to hold it back, as her body throbbed around him.

  He held himself still as a statue through her orgasm, just to absorb it. To live in this reality for a moment longer. As the tension soaked from her body, he pulled out of her ass and her sweet pussy and gently turned her over.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  She looked wrecked, her arms splayed to the sides, her eyes closed.

  “Yes.”

  She wrapped her legs around his waist, her thighs silky against him, and he entered her again. He kissed the rosy, tender tips of her nipples and the undersides of her breasts before mouthing up to her throat.

  She gazed up at him. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. Want to see you.” Want you to see me.

  Staring down at her, their bodies so close, him completely covering her—this felt more intimate than anything else they’d done. His chest ached suddenly, and he kissed her lips.

  They found a slow, intense rhythm. One that lit his blood on fire, made him feel vulnerable and exposed.

  He worshiped her body with his, and she twisted her arms around him, tugging him closer. They were pressed together everywhere, her soft body accepting him.

  A rush of heat spiked through him, and he drove into her harder. She grabbed his face and gazed straight up into his eyes.

  His orgasm began as if in slow motion but harsher than ever before. Like it was being yanked out of him slowly, roughly. His balls tightened and clenched, the vibration on his taint causing all the blood in his body to throb. His ears and eyes, his tongue, his fingertips—they all pulsed in time to the slow spirals of his orgasm.

  “Oh holy night. Fuck,” he said.

  Sasha laughed, her face transforming with joy. And that laugh, that absolute elation on her face, was what ripped him apart for good.

  Sasha’s ability to keep this beautiful man behind his proper barrier had completely melted the moment he’d made her come. Multiple times. It wasn’t the first time she’d had great sex. It wasn’t the first time this month she’d had great sex, but Perry was different. Had been from the moment he’d startled her into dropping the P-Spot Pulse onto that hardwood floor.

  All the tension, all the suspicion she normally armed her heart with, had leeched from her, and she wasn’t strong enough to build it back up at the moment.

  His hand was running a circuit over her hip and thigh, the steady thump of his heart sounding in her ear. It was cozy.

  And awful.

  Well, okay, it was kind of wonderful because Perry was kind of wonderful. And she resented it.

  “Are you cold?” he asked her, his voice languid and lazy, like their sex had made him soft and fuzzy around the edges.

  “A bit.”

  After Perry had come, he’d dispensed with the condom and sex toys, then cleaned them both up with a wet washrag. But now the remnants of water on her body were giving her the chills. He leaned over the side of his bed an
d grabbed his thick flannel shirt. She greedily snatched it from his hands and slipped it on, buttoning it up halfway.

  He started to roll out of bed. “Let me grab your sweats too.”

  “No, I’m fine. This will be enough.”

  She lifted the cuff to her nose and inhaled. The fabric held a hint of his scent—that woodsy, earthy smell she wanted to bathe in.

  “You have no idea how fucking sexy you look right now.”

  Sasha glanced up from her horny shirt-sniffing. “Huh?”

  He smiled and shook his head. “Wearing my shirt. No panties or pants. Your hair wild and spiky with sweat. Your lips red from my kisses.” He crawled over her and pressed his mouth to hers. “So fucking sexy.”

  She stroked her hands down his back all the way to his tight butt, which she grabbed because it was a nice butt that deserved some love.

  “Back atcha.”

  He lifted his face so he could grin at her, and her breath tumbled in her lungs. He was more than sexy. Perry was beautiful. So fun and expressive and open.

  She wished … well, she wished she were different. Wished she could be what he needed.

  I don’t want to get hurt.

  The last thing Sasha wanted was to hurt him. Or get hurt herself. Maybe she should get out of his bed, out of his room, away from all the sparkly Christmas lights and warm feelings.

  But she couldn’t. Not yet.

  Perry rolled off her and cuddled her against him, their limbs tangling together, her cheek back on his chest.

  The silence between them grew oppressive—not because it was uncomfortable but because it was the opposite. She could have happily laid in his arms, wearing his flannel shirt and listening to him breathe for the entire night. But that very fact scared her shitless.

  “So you and your ex just broke up?” she said, because there was nothing quite so awkward as talking about exes while naked in bed together. It would make anyone’s asshole clench.

  He snorted and pressed his forehead into the space between her neck and shoulder. “Yes. At the beginning of December.”

  “Well, you needed a rebound then.”

  His body stilled, like she’d paused a videogame, before he took a deep, halting breath. “I guess so.” He propped himself up on an elbow. “Do you think rebounds really work?”

  “For some people.” They had never worked for her, though. “A rebound fuck can help someone move on or make them miss the other person. It can give a person the confidence to get back out there in the dating game of life. Or it can show them that they’re not ready yet. I guess it depends on how you view sex and why you do it.”

  “I didn’t think of this as a rebound when we started. I simply knew I wanted you, wanted to get to know you. I’m happy I did.”

  “I’m happy you did too.”

  Talk about an understatement. He made her fucking fly.

  “How do you view sex?” he asked. “You said rebounds depend ‘on how you view sex.’ What do you mean?”

  “I guess I mean whether it’s a big emotional schmaltzy experience for you or if it’s a fun release of tension. Both are good.”

  She pictured his eyes before he’d come. The way they’d widened, the vulnerable hitch of his eyebrows, as if he was in some kind of emotional pain. She’d needed to touch him, to feel it—his emotions, his release.

  As hot as the whole experience had been, it had also struck her heart like an arrow. She’d felt it to her very core. Their connection, the intimacy.

  “Right. But what is it to you? Are you telling me emotions are never involved?” Perry’s voice wavered with hurt.

  “Of course not. I don’t sleep with people I don’t like and enjoy, so there are always emotions there. Fondness, tenderness. But I don’t allow myself to get attached.”

  Considering she was thinking about stealing Perry’s flannel, that was a big-ass lie. She was more than attached, but she wasn’t brave enough to face what that meant.

  Letting him in for a few days, over the course of a snowstorm, was very different than opening up completely. And that was what a relationship was—the breakdown of every barrier and wall she’d built up around her heart as protection.

  She wasn’t sure she was ready to do that yet. Or if she ever would be again.

  Perry wanted to make her see that they could fit together, that he was worth the trouble.

  It would be a Christmas miracle if she agreed.

  He was taking control of his life. He’d left a career that he didn’t enjoy, enrolled in school, moved back home. And part of him wanted to try to take control of this situation too. To bully Sasha into seeing how wonderful they could be together.

  But he wasn’t a bully. He was easygoing and loved romance novels. He wasn’t going to use the vulnerability of the moment to try to convince Sasha to change her mind about relationships. She was adamant, and he respected her.

  So instead, he kissed her until she was relaxed in his arms. He was going to enjoy these last moments with her before she drove off in the morning and he never saw her again.

  She traced her fingertips over his tattoos, and he rubbed his hands over her long legs and back. They touched and kissed for ages, the only light in the room coming from the Christmas lights.

  It was beautiful. Sasha looked like a festive lumberjack in his red and green flannel shirt. The room smelled of sex and pine needles. It was a filthy Christmas fairy tale.

  He never wanted this moment to end, so he fought sleep like the devil.

  “I’m so glad I met you,” he said, as her eyes began to close and her legs went heavy against him.

  She smiled slightly, her full lips quirking at the corners. “I’m glad I met you too. I wish I were different, Perry. I really do.”

  His heartbeat seemed to freeze in his chest before taking off at double-time. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re taking advantage of my sleepiness.” She leaned in and kissed him below his Adam’s apple.

  “Guilty,” he said, running his hands through her hair. “You don’t have to tell me.”

  She huffed and snuggled closer. “I never had big family Christmases as a kid. We did a couple presents and a fake tree and then frozen pizza. As an adult, I was determined to change that. I wanted to have the big Christmas dinners with the beautiful decorations and all the wonderful traditions.”

  “That makes sense.” He caressed her cheekbone and tried to brace himself. He was sure she was about to drop a bombshell on him. The hurt in her eyes was killing him.

  “What better way to make Christmas special than a Christmas wedding.”

  “Oh no.”

  Sasha laughed wryly and pushed into his hand. “I was left at the altar on Christmas Eve last year. He just didn’t show up. I’d planned this big holiday-themed spectacular. Everything was red and green and glittery. I threw my heart and soul into making this beautiful winter wedding. It was going to be festive, and happy, and perfect. His best man broke the news to me right after I’d put on my wedding dress.”

  “What an asshole.”

  Her eyes got a tad wide and wet before a tear escaped. He wiped it away and she made a noise that was a cross between a sniffle and a laugh.

  “It was a pretty dress. I’m still pissed no one got to see it.”

  He smiled and leaned his forehead into hers. “I bet.”

  “It’s been hard stomaching the Christmas season this year. It’s so in your face. Christmas was supposed to be full of love for us, our anniversary, and instead it is full of my heartache. I’m not mad at him anymore, but I have an almost visceral reaction to Christmas now. It brings back all those memories, and my embarrassment, and the pain of being so publicly rejected.”

  “That’s horrible, Sasha. I’m so sorry. This had to be hell for you, being stuck here.”

  “It wasn’t so bad, almost like exposure therapy.”

  He snorted and kissed her lightly. “I can’t imagine leaving someone at the altar. You deserved better than that.
”

  “He said he didn’t want to be tied down, wasn’t ready, too young. He wasn’t right for me—I realize that now. He saved us both a lot of pain down the line.”

  ”Still had to hurt,” he said. She shrugged and shot him a sad smile. He trailed a hand from her neck to her shoulder. “How did you cope with the breakup?”

  His recent breakup made him feel unimportant and small. He didn’t miss his ex, exactly, but he felt dumb for not seeing how unsteady their relationship had been to begin with.

  “Well, I coped by fucking one of my bridesmaids—the inimitable Josy. She’s part of a monogamous throuple now, so no more playtime for us. But yeah, I fucked a friend, which helped for about an hour or, well, four hours.” She smiled but quickly sobered. “Then I didn’t get out of bed for three weeks.”

  He stared at her hard, scared to ask the next question, but it felt inexorable, like the melting of snow and the changing of seasons. “Is he why you don’t date? This asshole who broke your heart?”

  A little furrow bloomed between her brows as she frowned. “I guess I don’t trust in romantic love. For me. I’ve had no real examples of it in my entire life. My parents sucked and were worse when they were together. My fiancé dumped me and left me to sort out the mess of our cancelled wedding. My sister’s going through a messy divorce, and my brother can’t find a good man to save his life. Why search for something if it doesn’t exist? It’s as useful as thinking Santa’s actually going to fart out your chimney with a bag of toys.”

  “But …” His heart was slamming in his chest, every cell in his body screaming at him to argue.

  He wasn’t even sure she was wrong. He didn’t have many good examples of loving relationships either. His mom and dad had been great together, but his dad had died young. He had friends who were married but just as many who were divorced.