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“What are you doing?”
“Removing temptation,” he says. “I’m not finished with you yet.”
“But—” He slips his fingers back into my pussy, and my words turn into a moan. I’m far too sensitive now, every touch resonating through my body. “Trevor.”
“Yes?” He slides a third finger inside me and I lose all train of thought. His movements are slow and steady, giving me a chance to feel every inch of fingers in me. “Stella?”
I take a shaky breath, try to find my words through the haze. “It’s too
much.”
“Do you like having my fingers deep inside you? Making you come?” My pussy contracts around his hand and he laughs softy. “It feels like you do.” He pushes his fingers all the way in, and I feel deliciously stretched. He moves them back and forth, and my body shudders, unused to the sensations coming from inside me. He pulls his hand out, using fingers to coat the edge of my pussy with my own juices. I’m about to ask him why, but I don’t have the chance. He pushes into me again, and there are four. He has four fingers inside me.
My breath comes in huffs, the air clouding in front of me. His fingers are still inside, letting me adjust. His hand tightens on my wrists, and I’m overwhelmed by the sensation of being held here, impaled on his hand. I know that if I ask, he’ll stop. I don’t want to stop. He slides out a little and I moan. This feels so different from his cock, full in an entirely different way. He’s moving so slowly. It’s at once agonizing and amazing.
Sliding back in sets my whole body on fire. Trevor was right, I’m not even remotely cold anymore. He starts a slow rhythm with his fingers, and my head falls back. I hear myself saying yes, over and over. I hadn’t even realized I was doing that. His fingers move faster and it feels like I’m already coming, my entire body filled with pleasure. But he doesn’t stop, and I’m not sure I can take any more. He fucks me, and the knowledge of just how much of his hand is in me, how much of him I’m taking sends me to the edge.
I’m still telling him yes, and suddenly everything changes. He twists his hand, and my entire world goes white. I scream, I know I do. I can hear it somewhere through the bliss I’m floating in. My orgasm doesn’t come just once. He continues to fuck me and I come twice, splashing over his hand and running down my legs. I don’t know that I have a body anymore. Everything is pleasure and I never want it to end.
I think my eyes are closed. Why are they closed? I open them and see snow. I come back to myself in pieces. I’m in the tree fort, with Trevor. He has his hand inside me. I had the best orgasm of my life. I can feel my clothes are back in place, underwear soaking wet. I’m lying in Trevor’s lap, and he’s looking at me with a kind of awe. “I would have carried you inside,” he says, “but we promised Brad we wouldn’t fall, and I didn’t think I could guarantee your safety down the ladder.”
“That’s sweet of you,” I say, still dazed, still not quite present.
He runs a hand through my hair. “You, Stella, are fucking perfect.”
“I’m not.”
“What I just saw was nothing short of perfect. Nothing.”
I blush, look away. He runs his hand through my hair again. I don’t want to admit how nice those words are to hear, how they fill a space in me I didn’t really know was empty. I wasn’t looking for this kind of feeling. But I know one thing—I can make him feel just as good.
“I bet I can make you scream just as loud,” I say.
“Later,” he says. He sees my face fall, and smiles at me. “If you think I don’t want to, you’re crazy. But if you think I didn’t enjoy the hell out of what just happened, you’re crazier.” Slowly, he helps me to my feet.
My legs still feel like jelly, and I have a sense they might for a while. Not all of it entirely from the orgasms.
10
Saturday comes, and I turn the tables on Trevor. I wake up before him, and I see the opportunity for payback. He’s woken up before me every morning, and it’s my turn.
Moving slowly, I crawl under the blankets covering the two of us. Even in the dark, it’s not hard to find his cock, already hard with his morning erection. I take him in my hand, stroking softly, and I feel his body stir. He’s not awake yet, but he will be. Placing my lips on the tip of his cock, I suck him in slowly. I feel it as he comes awake, his cock already deep in my mouth. He pushes the blankets off, staring at me. I choose that moment to pull back, running my teeth along his length, and I’m treated to a sleepy moan.
I take my time with him, teasing him with my tongue. I make a point of covering every bit of him with my tongue—down to the very base of his cock—before sucking him down again. His breath comes in short little gasps, and I feel his muscles tense. With a sigh, he comes in my mouth, shuddering, still half-awake.
But two can play at his game. I haven’t forgotten the tree house, and I don’t waste any time licking him back to hardness. He bragged about his stamina, and I’m going to take advantage of it. This time there is no teasing. I seal my mouth on him and take him as far as I can go, holding my breath, pressing down and working him into my throat. Trevor is cursing, and I see his fingers grasping at the sheets. I drag my mouth back, taking a breath before taking him again. I swallow him, tightening and releasing. I flick my tongue along the underside of him, and he stiffens.
When he comes again, he’s looking right at me. I open my mouth to him, letting him come, showing it to him before I swallow it all.
I’m debating trying to make him come a third time when he catches me by the arms, hauling me up to him. “You’re going to kill me if you do that again,” he says, voice scratchy with pleasure and morning.
“But at least you’d die happy,” I say, smiling.
He leans over me, pressing a kiss to the side of my neck. “Yes, I would.” His lips continue to tease my neck and chest, and I relax into the feeling of laying skin-to-skin with him.
“I wish we were alone,” I say.
He murmurs his words against my skin. “We are alone.”
“I mean today, alone in the house. We could stay in bed and I could take further advantage of that stamina you keep talking about.”
A kiss on my lips. “That sounds like the perfect day.”
I sigh, “I should get up and start on the turkey.”
Trevor wraps his arms around me. “Not yet.”
“Do you want to eat today?” I say, trying to wiggle out of his arms.
“Of course I do.”
I laugh, “Then let me go.”
A sly grin moves across his face. “You didn’t ask me what I wanted to eat.”
He dives down the bed, grabbing my legs and pressing them towards my chest. I’m totally open for him, still naked from the night before. He kisses my thighs, slowly working his way inward with light touches, never more than a brush of skin. He circles, getting closer, his kisses and licks more deliberate, avoiding where I want him to touch until I’m crazy for it. I’m seconds away from trying to force him to touch me when his mouth connects with my clit.
“Oh god.” It comes out of my mouth like a prayer, and I wonder if I would ever get tired of the way he makes me feel. I don’t think so.
He works me with his tongue, relentlessly bringing me to the edge. He seals his mouth over me, sucking deep, and my orgasm shatters open. It’s bright and fierce and wild and for a few moments I’m soaring over myself.
When I come back, breathless, Trevor’s grinning at me. “Now you can go make the turkey.”
I can’t remember the time I’ve actually put this much thought into my clothes. I like to look good, professional for my job, but I’ve never dressed knowing someone would be looking. I know Trevor will be looking. So after I put the turkey in the marinade and take a shower, I dig through my closet for something that’s going to make me feel sexy. Appropriate but sexy.
I finally find something, a deep blue sweater that’s been hiding in the back of my closet. I generally avoid wearing it because it clings to my skin and I don’t want the attention. I want that attention today. I pair the sweater with soft gray pants, and I feel good. Pretty.
The doorbell rings, and I hear Brad answer it. I come into the living room as Maria, Anna, and Richard all come inside.
“Has hell frozen over?” Maria asks loudly.
“What?”
She points at me. “You’re wearing color. Without being forced.”
“It felt like a colorful kind of day.” I give a nervous laugh, heading into the kitchen.
My sisters follow me. “Seriously, Stella,” Anna says, finding
a stool, “What’s the occasion.”
I give her a look. “Is it really such a surprise that I chose to wear a sweater that was in my closet?”
Maria unloads a bag of food that she brought with her. “When you choose to wear something that blue? Yeah.”
“Maybe she’s finally found someone she wants to impress,” Anna says.
“Really Anna?” I take the turkey carefully out of the marinade and slip it into its pan as the oven beeps that it’s hot enough. “I just wanted to wear this.”
“Well,” Maria says, “you look good.”
“Thanks.” I shut the oven door and check the time. It’ll be a few hours before it’s ready. It’s a small turkey. I’ve learned that cooking one of the giant ones just usually means a lot of leftovers in my fridge.
“But,” Anna says, “have you met someone?”
I groan, and make sure they see me rolling my eyes. “You two are ridiculous. It’s a sweater. Can we stop with the grand inquisition?”
“That’s not a no,” she says.
“It’s time to open presents,” I say, gritting my teeth. “Let’s get everyone into the living room.”
I have met someone, and that’s great. But it’s frustrating to no end that they think I wasn’t happy before. I was happy. I was fine. I don’t need to be married to feel completed. The boys have transformed the living room so everyone has room to sit. The couch has been pushed back against my bedroom doors, chairs from the dining room brought in so that there’s a giant circle.
I take the armchair that’s been pressed up against the window, and I notice that Trevor takes the space across from me in the circle. It’s the first time he’s seen me dressed today, and I watch his gaze slide slowly down my body and return. He gives me a slow nod and a smile, and a warm glow takes up residence in my stomach, all my annoyance at my sisters disappearing.
I love family Christmas. I always have. We have enough people that the pile of presents under the tree is large, and it’s fun to see them passed out. I love seeing joy brought to people’s faces by something I thought to buy them. We don’t tear into the presents either, we take turns. June always acts as ‘Santa,’ trying to make sure the gifts we’re opening are evenly distributed so no one opens all their presents at once. It takes longer, and I make sure that the snacks keep flowing, but I think it’s way more fun than everyone pouncing on their gifts and being done ten minutes later.
