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He hinges at the hips and brings his lips to my ears. “Don’t have time for that now.” His tongue darts out and licks the shell of my ear. “Hours and days and weeks.” His tip dips inside me. “I will fuck you until your legs are numb. Until my cum permanently stains your thighs. Until you beg me to stop.”
I push my hips back on another moan. “I never want you to stop.”
Rising to his full height, one hand takes my hip in a bruising hold while the other trails up my spine, slips around my neck, and clutches my throat. “Good girl,” he praises. “Now, brace yourself. This’ll be quick.”
Travis slams forward and fills me fully. Our moans vibrate the room for a beat before he inches back out and crashes into me again. Seated fully, he tightens his hold on my throat and lifts me off the mirror.
“Look how fucking perfect you are.” He bites my shoulder. “Watch as I take what’s mine.”
And then he pistons his hips, pounding into me over and over, hard and fast and greedy. Skin slaps skin as our grunts and moans and cries fill the air. His hand on my hip drifts between my thighs, his expert fingers circling my clit with precision. Again and again, he hits that spot deep inside me as he fucks me raw.
Fire sparks low in my belly and crawls up my chest, my neck, my cheeks, painting my skin red.
“That’s it, baby. Give it to me.”
I reach up and pinch my nipples. Twist and tug and tweak them painfully. Whimper as my orgasm builds and builds.
The doorbell rings.
“Time’s up, baby.” Travis slows his hips.
I level my stare with his in the mirror. “Don’t you dare fucking stop.”
He chuckles with a shake of his head a beat before all amusement vanishes from his expression. “Might want to hold on to something.”
And then he takes both of my hips in his hands and pummels me over and over. I grip the edge of the counter and faucet as he hammers me with his cock. Sweat slicks our skin as high-pitched moans mix with raspy grunts.
“I’ll get it,” Delilah calls from outside the room, followed by a laugh.
Travis reaches between my thighs, circles my clit once, twice, three times before I detonate. White spots fill my vision as an inferno blazes beneath my skin. My heart bangs, bangs, bangs beneath my breast bone. The hiss of white noise clogs my ears.
As my vision clears, a throaty growl echoes in the room. In the mirror, I revel in Travis’s reflection. Jaw slack and eyes on me, lust drunk, his brows pinch together. His hips jerk, his fingers curling and nails biting my skin. And then he buries himself to the hilt as he spills inside me.
Voices seep through the walls as we slowly pull apart. The evidence of our hot, spur-of-the-moment quickie paints my thighs.
Travis kisses my shoulder and mumbles against my skin. “Trouble maker.” He grabs a washcloth, runs it under warm water, then cleans between my thighs. “But I like your brand of trouble.”
More food, more noise, more people. Today will not be my one day of normalcy. But at least everyone is here for a reason other than my abduction a week ago.
“Merry Christmas Eve Eve,” Skylar singsongs as I open the front door. She scurries inside, shrugs off her coat, and wraps me in a fierce hug. “We brought wine and appetizers.” She inches back and peers over her shoulder at Lawrence. “Someone distracted me while making them, though.” Her eyes narrow on him in mock annoyance before smoothing out to meet my amused expression. “So there’s no guarantee on what they look like.”
I snort, lifting a hand to my mouth to hide my smile. “Now I can’t wait to see what they look like.”
Closing the door, Skylar and Lawrence toe off their shoes and follow me to the kitchen. Delilah glances up from her spot at the stove, cinnamon and clove permeating the air as she stirs her spiced apples, a moment before Skylar tackles her with a hug.
Lawrence sidles up to me and sets a tote on the counter. “She may have had some wine while assembling the appetizers,” he whispers so only I hear.
A breath of laughter leaves my lips. “I’ll take carefree, super-happy Skylar any day of the week.”
And the fact she is relaxed enough to not worry over my well-being.
Cheery holiday music plays loud enough to hear but not drown out conversation. Warmth blankets the house from food cooking in the kitchen and a fire crackling in the living room. Herbs and garlic and the sweet scent of spiced apples infiltrate the air. Packages wrapped in silver and blue, red and green, and black and gold lay beneath a brightly lit evergreen on the far wall of the living room.
For the first time in months, a sense of calm washes over me and soothes my soul.
I pluck a grape and square of cheese from one of the appetizer platters and pop them in my mouth. Leaning against the counter near Delilah, my stomach grumbles as I stare down at the apples.
“How was winter solstice?”
