“Hey now,” he hummed. “I thought you were getting the presents ready.”
“I am,” I said flirtatiously.
He nipped at my ear, putting his hands on my hips. “Keep playing games, and I’ll have you bent over right here.”
I shuddered. “Why are you holding back?” I bent over further, wanting him to sate this need that flamed up as quickly as the burner on the stove.
Deftly, his hands slipped under my pajama pants and when he reached my sensitive spot, he groaned against my shoulder. “You’re already wet. How long have you been waiting for this?”
“Too damn long. I can’t get enough of you,” I replied, moving my hips for more friction of his hand.
“So impatient.” He slipped a finger inside, making me quiver. It wasn’t enough.
“More,” I begged, my voice getting whiny.
“Whatever you need.” He withdrew his finger long enough to slide down my pants, and soon his tip was at my entrance. I clenched.
“Hurry,” I begged.
“I like it when you beg for me,” he said, a dark, playful edge to his tone.
“Please,” I said, looking over my shoulder at him for puppy-dog eyes. He was so damn hot haloed by Christmas lights. Eyes dark, jaw strong. Hands digging into my hips.
He drove into me, inch by inch, and the relief was so sweet my eyes stung with tears. “Tyler,” I cried out softly.
“I’ve got you, baby.” He ran his hands over my hips, my back, leaving a trail of heat everywhere his calloused palms went.
Bracing myself with one arm on the counter, I used my free hand to circle my clit.
“Make yourself feel good,” he said. “Use me, my cock. Make yourself come.”
This man. He knew exactly what I needed. And he braced himself for me. Letting me ride him, letting me angle the way that felt just right until I was shuddering, falling apart around him, breath coming just as hard and fast as my orgasm.
As I leaned forward against the counter, he pumped into me, riding the waves of my release to his own.
When we both had caught our breath, he wet a washcloth for me, letting me clean myself up while he attended to the hot chocolate. My cheeks were flushed and warm when I tossed the rag in the hamper and turned to face him. “I don’t know where that came from. But thank you.”
His eyes sparkled from the Christmas lights. “Obviously, me getting flour for you is incredibly sexy.”
I giggled, feeling light and happy. “That reminds me. I better get to work.”
I went and got one of Tyler's work boots, and used it with the flour to create a trail of footprints from our faux fireplace to the Christmas tree. The effect was so adorable a puppy couldn’t compete.
Once I was done with that, I got a few sugar cookies that Tatiana and I had made with Tyler's sister, Liv, and her children. As I placed each one on a tray, I took a couple of bites to give thefull Santa effect. Then I got a glass of milk from the fridge and set it beside the cookies, stepping back to admire my handiwork. “Tyler, come look,” I said.
“Perfect timing,” he replied, like we didn’t just have hot sex in the kitchen.
I could hear the whoosh of the whipped cream can as he added the topping to the hot chocolates. He came into the living room and passed me my cup, taking in the work. “Our daughter is so lucky to have you,” he said.
My heart swelled. “I just really wanted to make it a special day for her.”
“It will be,” he replied, kissing the crown of my head. “Come sit on the couch with me.”
I followed him, going to the couch and tucking my feet underneath me. Sitting down, I studied my hot cocoa. He had even shaved little pieces of chocolate on top. A sip proved it tasted just as good as it looked.
“I have something for you,” he said, setting his cup down on the coffee table.
I raised my eyebrows. “Aren’t we supposed to be opening presents tomorrow morning?”
