Unwrapped

by Jessica Gadziala

  "This suits you," he told me, running his finger under the band beneath my breast, making me shiver, before his finger pressed into the little flower between my breasts. "Sweet," he explained, slowly going down on his knees in front of me, his lips pressing between my breasts then down my belly until he reached the button for my jeans. My hands planted on his shoulders as his fingers worked my button and zip then shimmied the material down over my hips, my thighs, until I stepped out of it, leaving me in my bra and panties that, by some miracle, matched. The tiny rose on my bra was printed all over my panties.

  I expected him to pull me down with him or get back on his feet.

  But, instead, he leaned forward and closed his mouth over my cleft through my panties, making me jolt hard and curl my hands into his shirt as a low, tortured moan escaped my lips. His tongue moved out and pressed into my clit, making my legs start to shake from the strain of staying upright.

  "Jack, please..." I moaned, making him close his lips around my clit and make a "mmm" sound before reaching between us to yank the small swatch of material to the side.

  "Please what?" he asked, his voice deep, looking up at me, eyes heavy.

  Please what... I wasn't sure.

  "Please make you come so hard that your legs give out?" he suggested and I felt myself swallow hard and nod at that. "That's what I thought," he said, ducking his head again. When his tongue met me again, there was no barrier, making me need to press most of my weight against his shoulders to stay upright when he started licking me faster, more unrelenting, the scrape of his beard an intoxicating, unexpected thing across my sex and inner thighs.

  He drove me up faster, my breath starting to catch, my sex starting to tighten.

  "Jack, I..." I said, shaking my head though he couldn't see me.

  As if sensing I was saying I couldn't hold myself up any longer, he pulled back, my panties snapping back into place, as he put his hands on my hips and pulled me downward and onto my knees. When I looked up at him, he was giving me a self-satisfied smile. "Didn't even have to make you come to make your legs give out, huh?"

  But even as he was saying it, his hand was slipping inside my panties and slid down my slit until I felt one finger slide inside me. His eyes were on mine, getting heavier as I let out a low moan. My hand moved down his solid center and down over the crotch of his pants until I found his cock straining against the thick material. My thumb moved out and stroked over his head, feeling my insides tighten as his breath hissed out of him. My hand moved back up to try to free his button and zip.

  "Nope. You come first. Then you can have my cock in your hand..." he said, his finger thrusting faster, "in your mouth," my head fell back on a sigh, "in this sweet, tight pussy," he went on, finger crooking inside me and raking over my G-spot until I completely lost control.

  The orgasm ripped through me almost violently, making me collapse forward against him, crying out into his neck. His free arm went around me, keeping me against him as my whole body shook hard once.

  As soon as the tremors subsided, his finger slid out of me and his hand grabbed my panties and dragged them down my legs before his fingers whispered up my hips, over my ribs, then around my back to unclasp my bra.

  My breasts felt heavy with desire, my nipples hardening at the cool air. "Fucking perfect," he said, his wide hand completely swallowing up my breast as he covered it, squeezing just to the point of pain before releasing and rolling my nipple between his thumb and forefinger. "Sensitive," he said as my nipple came to a tight peak. His other hand rose and worked my other nipple until I felt my need slowly start to build again.

  My hands went to his shirt and started pulling it up, impatient, wanting him just as exposed as I was. He released me and let me pull the material free, leaving me to take in his wide-shoulders, his strong abdominals, his soft chest hair, his deep Adonis belt muscles, and the small trail of hair that disappeared into his jeans. My hand moved down his stomach and worked the button and zip, snagging the waistband of his jeans and boxers and pulling down, revealing his hard, thick cock.

  I grabbed him, unable to make myself tease him, to take it slow.

  My thumb stroked over the head, wiping away the small bead of precum before stroking him to the hilt, watching his face as his head tilted back and his eyes closed on an exhale. My other hand moved, pressing into the center of his chest until he took the cue and started moving backward until he hit the chair. I crawled with him, moving between his legs as he took the seat. His hand moved down and gathered my hair as I leaned forward and moved my tongue over the head of his cock.

  "Fuck, doll," he hissed, hands curling in my hair as my mouth moved around him and slowly took him as far as I could before moving back up, my hand moving down to gently cup his balls. "That's it," he growled as I worked him faster, my tongue swiping the head at each upward motion before taking him deeper. "Okay. Fuck. Okay, babe," he said, his hand curling tighter in my hair and yanking back until his cock slid out of my mouth.

  I looked up at him as my tongue moved out to lick the taste of him from my lower lip. He used my hair again to pull me up toward him, taking my lips and moving his tongue inside to claim mine for a long moment. His hands released my hair and went to frame my face instead as his lips went softer on mine, less demanding.

  But every molecule of my body was demanding release. I didn't want soft. I wanted hard and rough and fulfilling.

  He pulled back when I tried to press my lips to his harder. "Easy," he said, stroking his fingertips down my cheek.

  "Jack, please," I demanded, moving up to straddle his waist.

  "Slow down, baby," he said, voice rough.

  "I can't. I need you," I said, dropping my hips so his cock pressed along my cleft, rubbing myself against him shamelessly.

  There was a low, rumbling sound akin to a growl in his chest in response as one of his arms went around my lower back and he folded forward, making me bend back as he reached into his pants for his wallet, producing a condom, then moving us both back up. He reached between and protected us, eyes going to mine- heated, needy. "Take what you need, Lyra," he said, holding his cock at the base so I could raise my hips and then lower down on him.

  And I did.

  But slowly, wanting to memorize the feeling of him sliding inside me for the first time.

  There was a slight, delicious pinch as he stretched me and settled deep and I had to pause when he was in to the hilt to take a slow, deep breath, before the need overtook me and I started to ride him- hard, fast, a little clumsy, but unrelenting as my sex tightened and Jack started thrusting upward each time I slammed down.

  "There it is," he growled as I froze, my entire body stiffening. He thrust up one more time and I cried out loudly as I came.

  "Jack?" I asked, head in his neck a moment later when I realized he felt even harder than ever inside of me.

  "Not done," he said, reading my mind, as he rubbed the side of his face against mine.

  "I can't," I said, shaking my head, my entire body feeling rubbery and lifeless.

  "Yes, you can," he told me, his voice lower, softer. "But this time, I'm in control. And I'm giving you slow. And when you come this time, you're going to keep your eyes open and let me watch while you squeeze my cock and make me come."

  With that promise, his arms went around me as he stood, letting me wrap my weak legs around him as he led us around the tree and toward the couch. His knees hit the material and he slowly lowered me onto my back, his body coming down over mine, held up by his forearms planted on the sides of my body. His lips found my neck again, pressing in gently, then moving a path downward. His beard tickled my breasts, teased over my nipples, over my belly, hitting a spot near my hipbones that had me wiggling as my hands automatically moved down to try to push him a way on a strangled laugh.

  His head tilted up, skin around his gorgeous eyes crinkling as he smiled. "Ticklish?" he asked, sounding way too delighted about that idea.

  "Don't," I warned, my whole
body going tense.

  "Hmm," he said, rubbing his beard there again. "Tempting. But another time. Right now, I'm exploring."

  And he was.

  His lips and tongue and teeth and beard moved over just about every inch of me from my neck to my ankles before his face was above mine again.

  I was turned on again, but it was different.

  It wasn't that clawing, painful need.

  It was unfamiliar, deeper. It was more emotional than physical, a feeling I had never been aware of before. My body wanted him, yes, but somewhere deeper, buried in my chest, was a different kind of want, a want to feel him inside me, to feel our bodies as one, to move together, to create a moment of ecstasy to share.

  I didn't think a man like him- big, blunt, rough, a loner, could be so gentle, sweet, giving.

  And as his wide body pressed my thighs flat on the couch, his cock resting against my cleft, I realized I wanted the experience to go on forever. Even then, I had a strange, sad, hollow feeling that it would never be enough.

  No matter how much I got, it would never be enough.

  "Look at me," he said, his voice a rough whisper.

  My eyes drifted open again, maybe a little worried that he might see the depth of emotion there. But if he did, he didn't respond to it, just ran his nose down the side of mine as his hips shifted, as the head of his cock pressed against my entrance. My mouth parted on a sigh as he slowly, exquisitely gently, slid inside me.

  When he was buried deep, he paused, exhaling hard, trying to hold onto control.

  My arms slid up his back to settle on his shoulders as my legs went up his sides and crossed over his lower back.

  His head lowered and his lips pressed gently into mine and that feeling in my chest grew, spread, until it seemed to encompass my entire body.

  Then he was moving, his thrusts slow, gentle, deep.

  Our breathing, instead of getting fast and erratic, stayed deep and even as he carefully drove me up as though we had all the time in the world. And, in a way, we did.

  The orgasm started as a deep, hard tightening, making Jack hiss out his breath in response. "Let me see," he demanded as I felt my eyes getting heavy.

  I kept my eyes on him as the pulsations- hard, slow, moved through me, seeming to start low in my belly and spread outward until it overtook every inch of me.

  "Jack," I whimpered as he kept rocking, his body getting tense, as he hissed out my name and came with me.

  More of his weight came down on me as his face buried in my neck.

  We stayed that way for a long time after, lost in our own thoughts, before he finally slowly slid out of and off of me. He sat back on his ankles and reached to the back of his couch to pull down a soft tan blanket and put it over me before he moved off the couch. "Be right back, doll," he told me, voice still softer, sweeter than it usually was.

  I watched as he walked, naked and wholly devoid of self-consciousness, toward the stairs and went up and into the bathroom.

  I wrapped the blanket tighter around me and moved to sit up, looking out the giant windows at the steadily falling snow. The twinkle lights flashed bright and colorful against the glass, bringing my attention to the tree.

  Jack came back down a moment later, a pair of red and black pajama pants slung low on his hips. He stopped at the bottom landing, watching me for a long moment before coming back to the couch, sitting down beside me, wrapping an arm reassuringly around my shoulders, and pulling me close.

  Nothing was said.

  We both just sat and watched the tree twinkling.

  And somehow, I got the deep, almost terrifying idea that no moment in my life, in almost thirty years on the planet, had ever felt quite so right.

  I don't know how long we sat there.

  It could have been minutes or hours.

  But by the time his head turned and he pressed a kiss into my temple, my eyes were almost unbearably heavy.

  "Come on, Lyra. Time for bed."

  "Can't," I said, shaking my head.

  "Why not?"

  "I still have presents to wrap."

  "Fuck it. Do it in the morning," he said, reaching to slide his arm under my legs.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Picking you up."

  "I can walk you know," I said, smiling a little, trying to lighten the mood. "That was great and all, but you didn't paralyze me with sex."

  He chuckled at that, taking his feet, and pulling me against his chest. "New goal for next time," he said with a smile as we headed toward the stairs.

  Granted, I was on the petite side, but contrary to popular memes about short girls, I wasn't like someone's fluffy little lap dog that people always wanted to pick up and carry around. So being in his arms, carried around like I weighed nothing, it was novel. And I liked it.

  "Where are you..." I started when he walked right to his bedroom door.

  To that, he shrugged as we stepped inside. "Doll, you just fucked me. I just made love to you. Your ass isn't sleeping in the guest room."

  I couldn't exactly argue with that logic and, in fact, would probably be really insulted if he just let me go off and sleep alone.

  "Alright but let me grab some pajamas..." I insisted, pointing toward the door.

  "Won't need 'em," he shrugged.

  "Okay. Fine," I said with a smile, thankful that I wasn't the insecure type or it would be a nerve-racking night for me. "Then let me at least get some panties."

  "Yeah, definitely won't be needing those," he said with a devilish little light in his eyes that I found pretty effective at squashing my underwear argument. I totally wouldn't need panties in a bed with him.

  Speaking of, it was a massive bed.

  I hadn't seen the inside of his room yet, but it was just about what I had been expecting for a man like him. The bed was big, the head and floorboards and matching dressers were all rustic wood. The walls were a deep green and the bedspread was a black and green plaid that I found strangely homey.

  "So you do have a TV!" I declared as he moved to the side of the bed to put me down. Across from the bed on top of the dresser was a giant flatscreen that must have cost a mint.

  "If I'm gonna watch a movie, I'd rather do it in the most comfortable spot in the house," he informed me and it was logic that made total sense to me. I always watched movies in bed too.

  "Oh, can you see if A Christmas Story is on? They usually put it on for twenty-four hours on Christmas Eve."

  He moved to the other side of the bed as I struggled out of the throw blanket and under the comforters. He tossed the remote toward me, drawing my attention. Which was perfect timing because just after, he snagged the waist of his pajama pants and pulled them down, putting his body in full, glorious view once again before he slid under the covers with me.

  I turned my attention to the TV and flicked around until I found the right station, putting the remote on the nightstand, and letting him pull me onto his chest.

  As we lay there, his fingers stroking through my hair, the other hand a solid weight at my lower back, I decided he was right.

  Fuck the presents.

  There was really only one I needed to wrap anyway.

  The one for him.

  Nine

  Lyra

  I woke up Christmas morning to the smell of coffee.

  Really, there was no better way to wake up in my humble opinion. If I ever got rich, screw a Lamborghini or mega mansion; I wanted a full-time barista with fresh coffee at the ready. That was much more useful than a car that drove faster than you legally could on city streets or a house with a wing full of silly stuff like gift wrapping rooms and the like. Give me good, fresh coffee at all times and I was a happy camper.

  I stretched lazily, smiling at my sex-achy leg muscles as the comforter slid down past my breasts, surprising me when my skin didn't goosebump and my nipples didn't harden. My head shifted and I saw that the reason for that was the fact that the fire was roaring and I smiled again at his thoughtfulness.
He obviously wasn't in the bed with me, obviously up early and making coffee. But before he did that, he had rekindled the fire for me so I wouldn't be cold when I got up.

  Sometimes it was the small things that meant the most.

  It was kind of amazing how many men I knew that didn't realize that. It wasn't about a dozen roses. It wasn't about diamonds or fancy nights on the town.

  It was remembering how we liked our coffee or that we were always chilly so they kept the thermostat up even though they always ran hot.

  That was all it took.

  Jack somehow just got what millions of other men didn't.

  I exhaled hard and rolled up to find not only did he make coffee and stoke the fire, but he had brought in clothes for me. At the foot of the bed on his side was a pair of skinny jeans and my Christmas morning sweater- a big green one with a Santa on the chest. He'd also dug out panties, but no bra.

  I chuckled at that as I got up and took the clothes with me across the hall to shower. Then, fresh and dressed, I sneaked into the guest room and quickly wrapped the present I had for Jack that I had stashed behind the dresser.

  I found the plastic seal off the wrapping paper and shrugged, rushing to perfectly wrap his present so I could get it under the tree and get food started.

  What I didn't expect when I walked down the stairs was to find Christmas music playing and the smell of turkey filling the room. When I looked around though, he was nowhere to be seen. I moved over toward the tree to put Jack's present under and found another one already there... with my name on the tag. In my wrapping paper.

  He was giving me a present?

  "I know snooping is part of the childhood Christmas tradition, doll, but get your ass over here. We'll get to that eventually."

  "You got me a present?" I asked, turning to face him, brows drawn together.

  "It's Christmas," he said with a shrug, looking ready for the holiday in jeans and a red flannel. Though I was sure that was just his usual dress, it looked festive given the circumstances. "You got me a present," he pointed out.