You Had Me At Christmas: A Holiday Anthology(34)

“You know, Betty, I have a confession. My name’s not Bob.”

“It isn’t?”

“It’s Jared. Maybe you could call it out when I make you come harder than you’ve ever come in your life.”

Her knees threatened to buckle with lust, but she only chuckled and lifted her foot to the edge of the mattress to untie the strap of her shoe and remove it. First one, then the other, taking her time and making sure she gave him plenty to look at.

“As it happens, I’ve been using a pseudonym, too. Call out Kayla when I make you see stars.” She added in a husky voice, “Now hold onto that pretty iron bed head for me.”

An old-fashioned girl could do a lot with old-fashioned furniture. She’d first had the thought on tour, among the five-star antiques, and never acted on it. But she could now.

He obeyed, and she took a moment to enjoy the pull of muscle across his deltoids and pecs. Climbing onto the bed, she sat astride him, low on his thighs, and reached for the bottle of massage oil she’d left on the bedside table.

Unscrewing the cap, she tipped the oil across her collarbone so that it ran over and between her breasts. Watched his eyes follow each and every rivulet, including the ones that beaded on her nipples and fell silently onto her widespread thighs, and the others sliding over the soft curve of her belly, and lower, into the shorn curls.

She felt his thighs tense inside hers. “Let me touch you.”

“First, I need you to watch.” Replacing the bottle on the table, she rubbed the oil into her breasts, starting wide and slowing as she circled closer to her nipples, making her skin shine and the nipples harden. Watching him want her, watching him hunger for her, seeing the muscles in his arms cord as he fought not to touch, his fists tighten on the wrought iron.

“You like what you see?”

His chest rose and fell in a ragged sigh. “You can see that I do.”

Smiling, she looked at his cock, hard and proud, and leaned forward until her nipples touched his chest, then traced his lips with the tip of her tongue, her hair falling around them in a silky curtain. They were both finding it hard to regulate their breathing now. His lips parted and she slipped her tongue into his mouth in a light teasing foray that became a deep leisurely kiss, wet and intimate.

She broke the kiss and resettled a little higher on his body, and the sensation was exquisite, a torment. Velvet and heat, oil and arousal. Jared held his breath, one moment, two, then released it carefully. She moved, rubbing herself along the length of his cock. Felt the throb of sensation in her clitoris, the coil of erotic tension.

Her husband groaned.

She ran her palms down her body again, just to watch his gaze follow, burning her skin. She felt like a goddess, poised above him. Desired.

“Use me, Kayla. Take everything you want.”

Reaching between them, she sank onto and down his shaft with the ease of…she smiled…long practice. Holding herself still, she touched herself while his cock filled her. His breathing came faster, and his spine arched but he didn’t move while she pleasured herself. It was torturous. It was thrilling.

“You’re beautiful,” he said. “Gorgeous and wild, and I will always love you.”

Kayla gasped as pleasure took her, shock waves of it. His hands curved around her hips, steadying her through a rocketing orgasm.

Dazed, she opened her eyes. “Your tur—”

She was flipped on her back so fast she barely had time to catch her breath. He lifted her legs to his shoulder and pushed deep, so deep as he f*cked her. It was gloriously carnal and exposed, and when his orgasm hit, she crested with him.

And in that moment, she remembered the connection that shimmered between them when they were open to each other, remembered that he loved her body, not because it was perfect, but because it was hers, the woman he loved.

Remembered that every time they made love could be creation, re-creation.

Play.





Epilogue





“Back to your own bed.”

Maddie staged a cough. “Daddy, I’m still sick.”

“No, you’re well now.”

She stamped her foot. “I’m not.”

“Well, okay.” In the spill of moonlight, he pulled back the covers. “I guess we could leave a note for Santa on your bed. Maybe he’d find you.”

She stopped climbing onto the mattress and slid down, her feet hitting the carpet with a thud. “What?”

“Or,” he pretended to reflect deeply, “we could send a letter to the North Pole telling him you’ll be in our bed. But would it get there in time?” He ignored the muffled snort behind him. “It’s only ten sleeps to go. And even if it did, Santa only knows where every kid’s bed is. He’s not great on the location of grown-ups’ beds.”

A small silence. “I’ll leave him a map.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. Except you’re so little, he’ll probably glance in, see Mommy and me and think, ‘Nope, no Maddie here.’ But if you want to take the risk…”

His daughter was already halfway out the door.

“Night, baby girl.”

Rolling over, he stripped the covers off his silently laughing wife, looked at the corset and said, “Where was I? Oh yeah, unwrapping my present.”