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Ugh, who cares? It’s hot, and Reid loves me, so whatever.
“Fuck,” he grits out once he’s all the way in, the fronts of his thighs brushing my trembling legs. “Do you know how goddamn good you feel, Noelle?”
My head rocks from side to side as my boss starts to move behind me, pushing in and drawing out. Starting slow, then finding a rhythm.
Can’t breathe. Can’t think.
“You don’t?” Reid’s laugh is dark. Strained. That low sound makes my belly twist, my channel gripping him tighter. “Let me show you, then. Let me fuck you how you deserve.”
Hell. Yes.
And I always rolled my eyes at my stern boss, always teased him for his crankiness. But Ilovehis bossiness now, how strict he is, how in control as he thrusts me against the bookcase and fucks me into a needy puddle. Since he’s got me locked down for life, he’s even more confident than before—master of the universe.
“You’re mine.” A large hand reaches around my waist and grips my mound, squeezing my pussy even as his cock keeps plunging in and out. “This is mine. Forever, you hear? All mine.”
“Y-yours.” My voice is weak, thready, but only because this feels so freaking good. It’s overwhelming. “Reid, I’m yours.”
And he’s mine.
The man growling and thrusting quicker behind me, strumming my clit—that’s my future husband. My forever guy. Has anyone ever been so lucky, in the long history of lovelorn assistants?
They can’t have been.
And the pleasure builds and builds, growing heavy in my lower belly, twisting tighter until I can hardly bear it. Until I’m begging, babbling, moaning like a champ.
I clamp down on Reid’s shaft, coming so hard my ears pop.
And he buries deep, then fills me up with a groan.
* * *
Three years later
It takes some careful balancing, but I get the tiny green elf hat to stay put after a few tries. My son sucks on his fingers, drooling around his own fist, then smacks two colored wooden blocks together, oblivious.
“That’s it, gorgeous boy. Hold still while I take a photo for Daddy.”
Fishing for my phone in my cardigan next to us, I keep my eyes fixed on the tooth-rotting cuteness before me.
We’re sitting together on the rug in front of the fire, playing with blocks and wrapping gifts together on Christmas Eve. Well,I’mwrapping gifts. There’s a clear division of labor here. But mostly, I’m dressing my adorable little monster up as one of Santa’s elves and sending photos to Reid as he closes up the office for the holidays.
My husband is a hard worker. Always has been, always will be—but these days, he has new priorities. Family first, work second.
“Okay, say cheese!” My phone screen is smeared with some unknown stickiness, but I wipe that with my sleeve and click onto the camera app. The fire dances in the background, safely held at bay behind the grate, and the string lights wink on the mantelpiece. This home is festive A.F.
There’s an answering gurgle—but the front door opens out in the hall, and I whoop and fling my phone onto the sofa. Why mess around with pictures when Reid can catch the live show?
“In here,” I call, my voice drifting over the soft carols playing in the background. “Hurry!”
Reid’s footsteps thud against the floor, and he strides into the living room, pale eyes searching.
That icy gaze melts when he finds the two of us by the fire, surrounded by wooden blocks and heaps of gifts. Reid’s mouth curves up, and he strolls to join us, sitting on the rug with a sigh.
“Cool hat, huh?” Sure, it’s slipped to a rakish angle, but the cuteness cannot be denied. Our son babbles nonsense words and throws a block on the rug.
“I’m not sure ‘cool’ is the word. You’re going to ruin our child’s street cred, Noelle.”
But Reid is smiling, gently tipping the hat up so it’s level again.
“Good day?” I ask, leaning over to smell my husband’s neck. He always smells so delicious to me, like his pheromones are calling my name. Even now, my body crackles back to life, and I start mentally counting the hours until bedtime duties are done and we can be alone.
“It is now.” Reid catches my chin, kissing me hard on the mouth. After three years, his enthusiasm for me has not waned. Neither has his hunger. Wewanteach other constantly, and even though it makes us late for many appointments, I hope that feeling never fades.
Gazing at my handsome, prickly husband, I’m confident it won’t.
He’s my Christmas wish, and that shit lasts forever.
* * *
