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“Alex…” I can feel it approaching, tiny muscles tightening deep inside me.
“Good girl…”
I squeal as the powerful contractions take over, clenching around him. Oh… it’s exquisite, and my pleasure is doubled as he continues to thrust, harder and faster, then stiffens and holds me tightly as he comes, hips jerking, twitching inside me, filling me up, joining us together in a blissful union that’s so amazing I feel as if I’m floating up to the night sky, and oh my God I’m so fucking drunk…
He stops and rests his forehead on my shoulder, and I collapse into the cushions.
We stay there like that for a whole minute, catching our breath, as we slowly float back down to earth.
Eventually, he eases out of me, then gets up off the sofa. “Stay there,” he says, and I hear him pull on his boxers, then walk away.
“Okay,” I mumble. There wasn’t much hope of me moving. I wait, listening to him moving around, watching the flickering fairy lights on the tree. Zelda’s lying next to it, feet hanging over the edge of her bed, twitching as she chases rabbits in her dreams. Music is still playing, carols now, and a choir is singingSilent Night.
I feel exhausted and happy and relaxed and uncaring and loved.
I might never be able to close my legs again, but it’ll be worth it.
Footsteps sound again, and he returns and kneels down beside me. “Turn over,” he says. I flip onto my back and look up at him with sleepy eyes. “We’ll go to bed in a minute,” he promises. He’s holding a tube of cream in one hand, and he squeezes a bit onto his fingers, then rubs it on my knees. “I’m so sorry about that.”
I watch him, swallowing down my emotion. “They’re okay.”
“They’re red. It was very bad of me.”
My lips curve up. “Naughty boy.”
He throws me a wry look. “This time, I agree with you.” He finishes rubbing the cream in and puts the top back on the tube. Then he leans on the side of the sofa and looks down at me. “You’re incredibly beautiful.”
“Are you trying to make me cry?”
“Maybe.” He smiles. “You want to go to bed?”
“Mmm.”
“I’ve put your bag in the bedroom. Come on.” He takes my hand and pulls me to my feet. Then he slides his arm beneath my knees and lifts me up.
I loop my arms around his neck and rest my head on his shoulder as he carries me through to the bedroom. He kisses the top of my hair, then lowers me down outside the bathroom. “Go on,” he says. “You first.”
I retrieve my washbag and the pretty nightdress I’ve brought, go into the bathroom, and close the door. Taking the washbag over to the sink, I lean on it and stare at my reflection. My hair looks like Sideshow Bob’s fromThe Simpsons—completely wild. My face and neck are still flushed. My lips are bruised. I look like I’ve just had mad monkey sex. Funny that.
A little shocked, I wrestle my hair into an elastic, remove my makeup, wash my face, and brush my teeth. I’m having trouble keeping my eyes open. Alcohol always makes me sleepy. Finally I pull on the nightdress—it’s midnight-blue and satin, with shoestring straps and lace over the breasts, and it falls to my mid-thigh. I bought it especially. I hope he likes it.
When I’m done, I go back out and discover him folding up his clothes neatly, wearing just his boxers.
“Hey,” I say shyly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “All yours.”
He closes the wardrobe door, then comes and stands before me and takes my hands. “You okay?” he asks.
I nod and look down at the nightdress. “I bought this for you.”
He runs a hand down it, then slides his hand around to the middle of my back and pulls me against him. “You’re so thoughtful.” He nuzzles my ear.
“Mmm.” I lean against him, and he chuckles.
“You look like you’re about to doze off any moment.”
“Someone wore me out, not mentioning any names.”
He grins and leads me over to the bed. “In you get. I won’t be long.”
