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He moved a hand down to fondle my balls and took me deeper until my dick slid into his throat. There was no holding on after that. I grabbed his head and held on through the throbbing release as I let out a long groan of pleasure. As soon as he swallowed my release, Miller scrambled up to straddle my hips as he jacked himself.
“Oh god,” I breathed, trying to steady my heart rate, which was nearly impossible while gorgeous Miller was naked and writhing on top of me with his thick cock in his hand. My own spent cock twitched half-heartedly, trying valiantly to rally as my breath heaved in and out. I had the vague notion that this sexy man was going to kill me… and couldn’t think of a better way to go. “Fuck, baby.”
I reached out and ran my hands possessively up his inner thighs. The curve of his muscles, the light-colored hair on his legs, the tightening of his sac, the sounds he made as his hand brought him to completion—every single part of him was bewitching. My heart thundered like I was chasing my own orgasm again.
“Come for me,” I urged. “Want to see you come all over me. You’re so damned sexy. Miller, please.”
His glassy eyes locked on mine as he finally reached orgasm. The long, low sound out of his throat made my stomach tighten as I felt the first warm splatter of his release hit my skin.
His release seemed to last forever, and he never took his eyes away from mine. My chest squeezed from the intimacy of the moment. How was it possible to feel this way so quickly?
No more words fell between us as he lowered himself on top of me and lay quietly on my chest. My hands moved over the damp skin of his back and into his hair as our breathing finally settled into a peaceful rhythm. It wasn’t until the cum drying between us began to itch that we finally stirred from the impromptu embrace.
“Let’s shower,” I suggested. “And then I want to feed you.”
The shower turned into a long, lazy kissing session under the hot spray until I heard poor Miller’s stomach growl. I knew he hadn’t eaten much at dinner, so I quickly finished washing us and drying us both before finding a pair of soft flannel pajama bottoms and a sweatshirt for him to wear and donning a similar combo myself.
When we made our way back out into the main part of the house, I turned on the kitchen lights and began rummaging through the fridge. “What are you in the mood for?”
I was expecting him to demur with his usual polite sweetness, so when he said, “Pizza,” with such excitement, it made me laugh in surprise.
“Pizza it is, then,” I said, grabbing the dough I’d made a couple of days ago when I’d fully expected to be spending Christmas Eve alone.
Miller took a seat on one of the stools at the kitchen island. “Ever since you told me about making homemade pizza, I’ve wanted to try it.”
I pulled out the ingredients for the sauce, as well as fresh mozzarella, basil, and spicy salami. “It’s easier than you think if you use a food processor for the dough. And then I can mix up the sauce and toppings each night. It’s my version of making a sandwich, I guess.”
He smiled and shook his head. “Only a professional chef would say making pizza from scratch is like slapping together a sandwich.”
I preheated the oven before chucking the ingredients for the sauce into my food processor. While it pureed, I peeled off some stringy pieces of the cheese to hand to him for a pre-pizza snack and then poured him a glass of wine.
“Tell me about Tilly,” I said as I began stretching out the dough with floured hands.
Miller took a sip of wine first before setting the glass down and twisting the stem between his fingers. “She makes a good scapegoat,” he confessed.
“What do you mean?” I asked, even though I was pretty sure what he was going to say.
“I was blaming her for everything because it was easier than facing my first Christmas without my mom.” He let out a breath. “Much easier to get angry at Tilly than angry at my mother for leaving me alone.”
I stayed quiet while he processed his thoughts.
“I realized on the drive over here that I’ve been feeling guilty and… and angry.” He shrugged. “Being around all of my new Marian and Wilde cousins… it made me wish my mom hadn’t stopped at one child. I realized how much richer my life would have been with siblings.” He held up a hand. “And before you say that’s not fair, I know. She did the best she could, and just because I might have wanted siblings doesn’t mean she was even able to or interested in having more kids. I felt guilty for wishing that. So much that I didn’t even want to acknowledge it to myself.”
