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He left her on the counter and grabbed a stool, sliding it across the gray-tiled floor and positioning it in front of her. When he sat, his mouth was perfectly at the junction of her thighs. A wily smile on her lips, she spread her legs and showed him a glimpse of the promised land.
“Keep those hands behind you or else,” he warned as he rested first one of her knees and then the other on his shoulders.
“You have five minutes. If you fail, then it’s my turn.”
“I won’t fail.” It was a vow he took as seriously as any other. Serving her was at the top of his priority list.
“We’ll see,” she said, and then he went to work.
“Dammit!” Stefanie breathed through her release, cheeks warm and mouth parted.
Emmett’s head rose from her thighs and he swiped his mouth before a smirk plastered itself there and stayed.
“So, you won this time. So what?”
He moved the stool aside while she pushed off the counter. When he turned to find her on her feet, he spun her around and smoothed his hands over her bare ass before pulling her dress up to her waist.
“Not done yet, wife.” His voice was gravel filled and her response was a whimper of capitulation.
A drawer to her left was slid open and he extracted a condom.
“Why do you have those in there?” she asked, though she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
He rolled on the protection and stayed silent.
“For Sunday?” Stef peeked over her shoulder.
“Shut up.” His breath was hot in her ear as he pressed his erection against her. “Do you want this or not?”
“Yes.” She did. More than anything.
“Then behave.”
A moment later he was filling her, taking his sweet time stroking them both to oblivion. Her challenge, and the searching question about why he kept condoms in the kitchen drawer, was forgotten.
“Together.” She reached behind her and wrapped a hand around the back of his neck. “Emmett.”
“Yes.” He nipped her earlobe and gripped her hips, plunging deep. Pleasure ricocheted through her body as he worked hard to match her pace.
“Now. Now!” She tightened her grip on his neck, vaguely aware of her nails digging into his flesh. And then...
They brought down the house.
Her cries mingled with his, their shouts competing for space in the kitchen. His grip loosened on her hips as his ragged breaths tickled her ear.
“That... Amazing.” Those broken words were the only two she was capable of.
“Better” came his argument.
She turned, stood on her toes and pressed a kiss to the center of his lips. “Merry Christmas, Emmett.”
A blip of what might be memory shadowed his eyes, but only for a moment. In a blink it was gone and replaced with a tentative smile. “Merry Christmas, Stefanie.”
His wife excused herself for a bath. He assured Stefanie the tub was clean—he was a borderline neat freak with a lot of free time on his hands. Once he showed her where the towels were and changed into jogging pants and a loose gray tee, he went back downstairs and refilled his wineglass.
His phone showed texts from employees who were part of Chase’s security team—no emergencies, just updates—and from a few friends wishing him a merry Christmas. They didn’t know not to. Stef knew not to, but she’d wished him a merry Christmas, anyway. He’d returned her sentiment, the barbs of his past not digging into his skin as deeply as before.
Could’ve been the world-class sex that helped with that endeavor.
