The Firework Exploded (The Holidays #3)(43)

Now that I finally have him inside of me, all worries have left the building about whether or not this will end in another non-orgasm for him, and I’m so damn close to feeling the ecstasy of my own release with just a few more thrusts from him, I’ll be damned if I let anything ruin that.

“Don’t worry about what’s going on out there, just look at me and keep moving,” I tell him softly, grabbing his face and turning it away from the window so he can concentrate on me instead of the chaos happening outside.

Shifting my hips against him, he groans softly when the movement pulls him all the way back inside me and he immediately starts moving again. His groin hits my clit in the best way each time he thrusts back into me and I start chanting his name quietly when he picks up the pace once again.

“We are NOT calling the fire department! It’s just the one tent and it will be out soon. No one panic!”

Sam’s hips stutter to a stop again when we hear someone yell from outside, and I shake my head with wide, frantic eyes.

“Nope, no stopping. It doesn’t matter, just keep going,” I remind him, smoothing my hands down his face and pressing the heels of my feet crossed behind him against his ass to make him move again.

“It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter…f*ck, you feel so good,” Sam repeats after me with a low groan, adding a curse at the end that brings my orgasm immediately back to life.

“Turd Ferguson, you are a bad, bad boy! Stop trying to eat Aunt Bessie’s leg, right now!”

Sam starts moving his hips even faster, both of us ignoring the shouts from outside as each of his rough, hard thrusts drive me right back to the edge. His hands clutch tighter to my ass and he helps me move against him, the lower half of our bodies smacking together as the air in the room gets hotter and we get sweatier.

“I’d like to thank you all for coming and I apologize for the fire in tent number three. Please sit back and enjoy this poem I wrote for my one true love. Scheva, you’re so hot, even though you’re a diva. You make my penis hard, like the plastic around a tub of lard…”

Sam lets out another low groan when Alex’s voice outside is amplified by the use of a microphone, and I know it’s a groan of frustration instead of pleasure when his eyes dart to the window next to us.

“Not stopping, it doesn’t matter, not stopping, it doesn’t matter,” he whispers before I even have to remind him, his eyes coming back to mine as I give him a nod of encouragement.

“Yes, f*ck me harder. Make me come, Sam,” I whisper, talking to him as dirty as I can to keep him in the moment.

His lips slam against mine and his tongue pushes past them, tangling and swirling around my own tongue until I moan into his mouth. He quickly gets back into a steady rhythm, pumping in and out of me and hitting my clit in that perfect spot with each thrust of his hips, until it only takes a few seconds for my orgasm to wash over me.

My thighs tighten around his hips as my release pulses between them, and Sam breaks the kiss to bury his face in the side of my neck when he follows quickly behind. He comes with a boisterous shout of my name, his hips moving erratically and his entire body shaking against me as I wrap my arms around him and hold him close. After what feels like the longest orgasm in the world, Sam finally slumps against me with one last spastic jerk of his hips, letting out a loud, lengthy moan against my neck.

“I think I just shot at least ten gallons of sperm in you,” he mutters after a few quiet moments of heavy breathing, pulling his head back just enough to look at me. “Seriously, that shit came out with such force I’m surprised you can’t taste it in your mouth right now.”

I laugh as I unwind my legs from around him and he pulls himself out of me, holding onto my hips to set me back down on my feet. My laughter is short-lived when I immediately feel those ten gallons of sperm start leaking out of me and sliding down between my legs. With no other choice at the moment, I grab the skirt of my dress and shove it between my legs to start wiping up the mess.

Sam looks at me sheepishly, opening his mouth to most likely apologize that I’m cleaning cum off my thighs with vintage lace, when another round of screams come from outside, cutting off his apology and forcing both of our eyes to the window.

“The f*ck? Is that snow?” he mutters in awed confusion as we watch huge, white snowflakes swirl around right outside the glass before another loud explosion rattles the house and breaks the peaceful, albeit confusing, moment.

“Everyone, remain calm! Please refrain from using bottles of vodka from the open bar to put out the fires. Even though they are liquid, they WILL make things worse!”

Sam and I slowly turn our heads to face each other.

“Did he just say fires, plural?” he asks.

I nod my head silently, dropping the material of my now wet and cum-stained dress as footsteps suddenly pound against the floor outside the room. The door bursts open and Alex stands there breathing heavily, his white dress shirt partially untucked and stained in several places by what looks like black soot, his grey tie all askew and flung over his shoulder as he stares at us with wide eyes.

“You two look nice and satisfied, that should make what’s about to happen a little easier,” he informs us, plastering a fake smile on his face and clapping his hands together. “Let’s go, *s, it’s time to get married! Just keep your eyes open and your head covered at all times. Sam, you go first and get to the front of the aisle as fast as you can, I’ll escort Noel out to meet her father at the back. Hopefully by the time we get out there, the band will start playing and calm everyone down.”