by M. S. Parker
“You, love. You're what I want.” His arms tightened around me. “I want us to come up with our own holiday traditions.”
My stomach flipped. He was doing it again. Talking about this like it was the start of something long-term. I wanted it to be, but I still held back. Things between us were moving so fast. I felt like one wrong word or move, and everything would shatter.
“What traditions does your family have?” I asked.
He shifted us until we weren't dancing anymore, but walking over to the couch. He sat down and pulled me onto his lap. I stiffened for a moment and felt him go still. He was waiting, I knew, to see what I would do. I took a slow breath and then forced myself to relax against him. He kept his arms around me, but they were loose, a reminder that I could get free at any time.
“Traditions?” I prompted.
“Well, let's see.” He thought for a moment. “When I was really little, before my parents divorced, I would sleep downstairs in front of our tree, hoping to catch Santa when he delivered the presents. After they got divorced, the holidays got weird.”
I put my hand on his arm and gave it a comforting squeeze.
“But when I moved in with my dad, Suzette heard about the tradition and wanted to do it. Every year I was with them for Christmas, the two of us would sleep downstairs.” He smiled. “We didn't stop until I moved out.”
I felt a pang of sadness. I hated that his sister didn't like me. Not for me, but for him. He loved her so much and I didn't want him to feel torn between the two of us. “We should do that,” I said.
“Do what?” He gave me a puzzled look.
“Sleep down here tonight,” I said. “It'll be one of your traditions. Except me instead of your sister.”
“Well, that depends.” His eyes twinkled with humor. “Do we have to sleep in separate sleeping bags or can we share?”
We shared.
But first, he surprised me with one gift that he said didn't technically count as a Christmas gift because it was for Christmas Eve. Pajamas. Not sexy silky pajamas, but a warm, soft flannel pajama top. Just the top, and it was huge. I hadn't understood until he'd held up the matching bottoms and said they were for him.
I fully expected that once we dressed in our respective pajama halves, we'd end up with them off so we could have sex, but that hadn't been the way things had gone. Instead, I watched as he spread out a pair of thick sleeping bags in front of the fireplace and then put down several thick, soft blankets and pillows. He hadn't looked at me the entire time and it wasn’t until we'd gotten under the blankets and he curled his body around me that I realized he was nervous.
“You don't think this is silly, do you?” he asked.
“Silly?” I echoed as I rolled over. As much as I enjoyed the feel of him spooning me, I liked being face-to-face even more.
“The pajamas. Sleeping down here.”
“I don't think it's silly,” I quickly assured him. “But…” I hesitated.
“What?”
Hearing the uncertainty in a voice that was usually so strong and self-assured made me feel instantly protective. It was a new feeling for me. I was used to not being protected, but I'd never wanted to protect someone else. Not like this.
“I was wondering what made you decide on the pajamas.” I put my hand on his bare chest. “Not that I mind. I'm just curious.”
Even in the dim light, I could see a faint flush stain his cheeks. “You know those scenes in movies and on tv shows where the morning after, a woman's wearing the top half of the man's pajamas?”
“Yeah?”
“I never had...Lara never...” He sighed. “I wanted to see you in my pajama top. Like we were two parts...” His voice trailed off and he looked away. “It's stupid.”
I reached up and put my hand on his cheek, turning him until he look at me. There was a lump in my throat as I spoke and my chest was tight. “I get it.”
And I did. He didn't need to explain anymore. I completely understood what he meant. I dropped my hand and ducked my head, pressing my face against his chest. Everything I felt for him welled up inside me until I felt like I would explode.
“Thank you,” I managed to squeeze out a whisper.
“For what?” he asked, sounding genuinely puzzled.
For a man with such a high IQ, he could be quite dumb sometimes. “For this,” I said. “For giving me the pajamas. For the food and the tree and the stories. For giving me Christmas.”
He kissed the top of my head and wrapped his arms more securely around me. “It's not over yet.” His hand caressed my hair. “Go to sleep.”
“I'm not tired,” I protested, even though I was actually tired. I'd been too keyed up about all of this.
“Shh,” he murmured. “Santa won't come if you're still awake.”
I started to laugh but yawned mid-way through. I was already slipping into sleep when he whispered something else.
“I love you, Jenna.”
I wanted to tell him that I loved him too, but I was falling too fast. I would tell him in the morning, I decided. And then sleep claimed me.
Chapter 8
A shudder of pleasure washed over me even before I was completely aware of waking up. Because I registered that sensation before anything else, I was able to push back the surge of panic that wanted to take over when I felt a mouth working over my most intimate parts. I'd woken to men having their way with me, but it had always been pain that had pulled me from the darkness, not pleasure. That gave me enough presence of mind to realize that it was Rylan.
All of this happened in only a few short seconds before I was awake and processing everything.
Rylan's hands were on my hips, his fingers caressing my skin as his tongue danced between my folds, sending shivers through me. I moaned as it circled my clit and looked down. The blankets were off and Rylan was stretched out between my legs. The shirt I was wearing was pushed up around my waist, but my panties were still on, pulled to one side to allow for access.
I watched as the cross rippled with the movement of his muscles and then reached down. My fingers raked through his dark hair, loving the feel of the silky strands. He looked up as his lips wrapped around my clit, his eyes darkening to that near-purple shade I loved so much. My eyelids fluttered as he began to suck on my clit. My head fell back, eyes closing. I gave myself over to the pleasure, letting it wash over me, carry me.
I never realized what I'd been missing by not closing my eyes until I'd done it last weekend. I'd always been too afraid, too unwilling to trust my partner. It was understandable considering what I'd been through, but with Rylan, I'd finally been able to put aside my fears. He'd shown me what it was like to block out sight and concentrate on my other senses.
At the moment, those senses were firing on all cylinders. I heard my heart pounding in my ears, the blood rushing through my veins. The half-whimpers falling from my lips as Rylan's talented mouth drew me closer to my release. The scent of pine and fire filled my nostrils. Mingled in were the hints of chocolate, mint and peanut butter from the cookies on the nearby table. And, of course, the unmistakable combination of sex and Rylan.
Then there was touch. That sense was almost on overload. My nipples were hard, rubbing pleasantly against the soft flannel of my shirt. Rylan's hands were firm where they now gripped my hips, holding me in place as his ministrations became rougher, more desperate. His tongue rasped across my clit, harder than necessary, and I gasped.
“Fuck!” I cried out my back arching. I was so close.
Two fingers worked their way inside me and I writhed, my body both fighting and welcoming the intrusion at the same time. I was wet, but tight. Usually, he started with a single finger, slowly working me open, but not this morning. His fingers thrust into me with a steady rhythm, twisting so that his knuckles rubbed against my walls. I knew what he searched for and cried out when he found it.
My fingers curls into fists, digging into his hair so hard that I knew it must hurt. He didn't even pause
in what he was doing. There was definitely something to be said for single-minded determination.
His tongue lapped around the place where his fingers disappeared inside of me, teasing at the edge but never dipping in. Then his fingers were curling, pressing against that spot. He massaged it even as his mouth moved up to my clit.
“Fuck, Rylan! Yes!” I wanted to tell him how good it felt, how my entire body was about to come apart at the seams. Wanted to tell him how amazing his mouth was, how his tongue and fingers were going to make me come. But I could only manage those three words, and then, as everything exploded, only a single word repeated. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”
He kept his lips and fingers working through my orgasm, drawing it out as long as he could until I was gasping for breath. When he pulled his fingers out, I opened my eyes a slit – all I could manage – and watched as he licked his fingers clean. He then stretched out on his side, watching and waiting.
My eyes closed again and I let myself enjoy a bit of post-orgasmic bliss. I made a small sound of appreciation as his hand slid under my shirt to cup my breast. I opened my eyes after a few minutes, ready to repay him. I pushed against his chest and he immediately rolled onto his back. I straddled his thighs and slid my fingers under the waistband of his pants. Not surprisingly, he wasn't wearing underwear. His cock already stood at attention.
My eyes flicked up to his face. He wore an expression of patient anticipation. My stomach clenched. I didn't want that right now. What I wanted was to let him do something I knew he wanted.
I pulled down his pants to mid-thigh, revealing my thick, heavy prize. I started slow, running kisses along his shaft and then down to his balls. I used my hands and mouth on him, stroking him until he was moaning. I shifted my position then, and took a moment to mentally prepare myself for what I was going to ask him to do. When I looked up at him, I saw the question on his face.
“Put your hand on my head,” I said softly. Something flashed across his features, but I didn't register what it was before it was gone. I didn't dwell on it though. I clarified my previous statement. “I want you to use your hands to control me while I go down on you.”
“Jenna.”
I heard him get ready to protest. “Please?” I asked. “I need to do this.”
He let out a groan. “You're killing me, love.”
I suppressed a smile. Even after such a short time together, I knew what that meant. He would do what I asked. But it wasn't just me who wanted it. I'd felt it in his body before. He'd stroked my hair, but hadn't taken it beyond that point. This morning, I wanted him to have that control.
I leaned forward and he put his hand on my head. I felt him hesitating and looked up at him. There were dozens of questions on his face, but I knew that the one holding him back was me. Did I really want this or was I only doing it because that's what I thought he wanted?
“Yellow,” I said softly. “Just go slow at first.”
He nodded and put a gentle pressure on my head, his fingers curling in my hair to guide me. My heart was thumping rapidly in my chest, more from anxiety than from arousal at the moment, but I kept my eyes on Rylan's face even as I parted my lips to allow him to slide between them.
He kept things slow, pressing my head down and then tugging on my hair to let me know to pull up. He never forced himself deep into my mouth or did anything that set free the panic that was always at the back of my mind. Being with him quieted it until I almost forgot it existed. I wondered if, someday, it would finally disappear forever.
I swirled my tongue around the head of his cock as he drew me back, pulling himself completely free and tilting my head so I could look at him. I nodded. “More.”
His fingers flexed in my hair and he applied more pressure this time. He wasn't exactly shoving me down, but it wasn't a gentle coaxing like before. I put my hands on his muscular thighs to steady myself and let him take control. His moans, the way he said my name as he thrust into my mouth chased away any fear that may have lingered. Heat coiled in my stomach. I loved that I could make him feel this way.
I dropped a hand, cupping his balls in my palm. He swore and his hips jerked, pushing him a bit further into my mouth than he'd probably intended to go. I felt him freeze and knew he wonder if he'd hurt me. I gave his balls a light squeeze and lowered my head even more. I'd taken him completely before, but I knew that he would hesitate. He was big enough that it wasn't an easy task, but I knew he enjoyed it.
“Do you want it all?” His voice was hoarse.
I couldn't answer with my mouth full, but I managed enough of a nod to answer his question.
“Tap my leg if it's too much.”
I loved him for taking the time to make sure I had an out before he pushed down on my head again. I let my eyes close, focusing on the taste of him, the smell, the feel of his soft skin and the weight of him on my tongue. I knew this man. Loved him. Wanted him. I relaxed my throat and let him slide down until my nose brushed against the curls at the base of his cock.
I swallowed, letting the muscles in my throat work the way I'd been taught, massaging his cock until I felt his body begin to shake. I stayed until his hand started to pull me up. I felt him begin to pulse even as he slid across my tongue and knew that he was about to come. His hand fell off of my head and I knew he was giving me the choice of what to do next.
I hollowed out my cheeks, drawing out every last drop as he exploded in my mouth. He shouted my name as I swallowed and a shiver of pleasure went through me. I didn't release him right away either, teasing him with my tongue even as he began to soften. Only when he began to gasp and writhe did I let him go.
“Damn,” he breathed as I crawled up his body. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me down to his chest. “That's got to be the best Christmas morning I've ever had.”
I smiled and kissed his chest. “Definitely better than an alarm clock,” I said.
We laid in silence for a few minutes before the chill in the air became obvious. The fire had gone out at some point during the night and both of us were only half-dressed. Half-dressed and sticky, I realized. As much as I wanted to give him his gift, I wanted to be a bit more presentable when I did it.
“How about we take a couple minutes and clean up before we open gifts?” he said, reading my mind. “You take the bathroom here and I'll take the one down the hall. I'll turn up the heat and we should be good to go in just a few minutes.”
“That sounds perfect,” I said. A thought hit me and I looked up at him. “You didn't ask it.”
“Didn't ask what?” He looked puzzled.
“If I was okay.” I reached up and pushed a lock of hair back from his face. “I'm not upset that you didn't, I just noticed it.”
“I figured that if you trusted me enough to do these things, I had to trust you to tell me if I go too far.” He ran his fingers through my hair. “But I always want to know that you're okay.”
I smiled as I pushed myself off of his chest. “I am,” I said. “But I'll be a lot better after I brush my teeth.”
He laughed as we both got to our feet and hurried off to get the necessities done so we could get back to our celebration.
Chapter 9
My excitement over my gift began to get mixed with some serious nerves by the time Rylan and I met back in the living room. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. Personal and something that only I could give him. Something that no amount of money could buy.
Well, I guess, technically, money could've bought it, but it wouldn't have been the same.
“All right,” he said as he came over to stand next to me. “Now, I'm going to ask it because you're looking way too serious. Are you okay?”
I reached out and took his hand, threading my fingers between his. “I'm fine.” I gave him a sideways smile. “Just a little anxious about the whole gifts thing.”
“Worried you won't like what I got you?” he teased, but I could hear that he was just as nervous as I was.
“I'm sure
I'll love it,” I assured him. I looked up at him. “So, how do you want to do this?” I smiled. “Newbie here when it comes to Christmas, remember? All I've got to go on are how families do it in movies and on tv.”
“Well, the first thing you need to know,” he said in a whisper. “Is that there aren't any rules.”
I laughed as the tension faded away. My voice took on a lighter note. “Then how do we know what to do?”
He laughed as well. “I guess we'll have to make it up as we go, then, won't we?” He led me over to the couch and gestured for me to sit down. “And if we're doing that, I'd like to say I get to go first.”
I nodded and sat down, pressing my hands together so that Rylan couldn't see that they were shaking. I wasn't worried that I wouldn't like what he was going to give me – I was sure that no matter what it was, I'd love it – but I was concerned about the equality of it all. I knew Rylan was rich and generous, and we were dating, but I didn't know what that meant in regards to gift giving. Maybe something so personal as my gift was a bad idea. Maybe it would make him think I was getting too serious. If' I'd only known what he'd gotten me first, or at least what it was worth. Not that I cared about how much things cost. I would've been happy with just what he'd done here. It was more than I ever could have dreamed.
Now, he was walking back over to the tree and bending down to pick something up. It was a small, flat box. Too small to be clothing. The wrong size and shape for electronics. I had a feeling it was jewelry and my heart began to beat faster. I wasn't an idiot, but when it came to this, I was highly inexperienced. Aside from the obvious of what certain pieces of jewelry meant, I didn't know what anything else would symbolize.
“Here.” Rylan sat on the edge of the couch next to me. I felt his excitement coming off him in waves.
I hoped I wouldn't disappoint him.
I slowly untied the sparkling silver ribbon and then went to work on the paper. I was careful as much because the paper was thick and beautiful as because I wanted a bit more time to prepare myself for whatever was in that box.