Page 25 of He Has Santa

“I’m so ready for you. I want you—”

“Not yet.” Because I need to see that ecstasy on her face, the one I’ve seen in my dreams for years, as she orgasms all over my hands. She arches into my hand and I chuckle as I stroke, circling around that nub, as her folds swell up, surrounding it, hiding it. She moans.

“Logan, please…”

“Please what?” she breathes hard and I know she can’t talk because I touch her nub, just a gentle stroke, but her hips jolt up hard and her breath hitches. My breathing is almost as hard as hers as I stroke back and forth, watching her face. Her eyes close and she gets that look of pain, like she’s on the edge of a precipice.

“Open your eyes sweetheart. I want you to see me as you go over the edge, to know it’s me who put you there.”

She opens her eyes and I flick my finger, fast as she pumps her hips, pants and squeezes her legs shut on my hand, tightening every muscle around me and I hold onto her, press down hard on her clit until I feel the hard nub explode under my touch and hear her cry out my name.

She stiffens and stops breathing, her eyes on me, her face pink and glowing with sweat and joy, her mouth open and I want to paint this picture of her on my mind forever, embed it in my soul, make it the centerpiece of what I live life for, to worship at the altar of Junie.

“Oh my god, Logan.” She pulls my face to hers, covers my mouth and kisses me to my core, a kiss of adoration and thanks and wonder that I feel in a shudder through my body, down to the tip of my salivating cock.

When she lets up and catches her breath, she pushes me onto my back and blankets me with her body, holding onto my cock like she means business. I grit my teeth to hang onto my shit.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I need—”

“To slow down or—”

“Else what?” she laughs, sitting up and straddling me now, with my cock in her hand. Thank god she’s not stroking or I’d lose everything within five seconds.

“I think I know where you’re going with this,” I say. She laughs like a woman in charge. That only makes me twitch and I clamp down harder, try to think of something else. Impossible to do. I reach for the nightstand drawer and pull it open. She leans over and snatches the foil packet from my hand.

“I think I know where I’m going with this,” she says. Her eyes light up as she rips it open and I wonder if she’s had practice. Wrong thing to think at a time like this as I feel some excitement drain.

“It’s been a while,” she says like the mind-reader she is. And just like that, she turns up the dial on my emotions, forcing everything I feel past the lust to the forefront because she’s precious to me, because she’s everything to me. Because I never want to let her go again. And it has nothing to do with her being the mother of my girl Nicky.

But the fact that she is the mother of my child makes the stakes that much higher. Fuck.

Junie concentrates on rolling the rubber down my still hard shaft—still hard because her warm wet pussy is pressed against my balls the way she’s sitting and no amount of angst about the stakes can erase that. Or maybe my emotional turmoil is what’s driving my need, making me harder because I’m that bastard who wants to stake his claim by taking his woman, making sure she knows which side her bread is buttered on, or who’s buttering her pussy.

Taking her hips in my hands, determination mixes with lust and I raise her up, take aim and put her back down so that my cock lances right through her center all the way to the hilt as I press and lift my hips to feel her wall against my tip. A groan of deep satisfaction escapes me and she blows out a long breath.

“You feel so enormous and so fucking good.” Her words make my blood roar as her pussy contracts around me. My breathing is hard and I need to stay still for a second inside her to hold my shit together.

“Did I ever tell you how much I love your dirty talk? How much it turns me on to hear a normally sweet girl turn—” I stop talking because Junie starts moving, up and down like she’s on a carousel and memories flood back mixing with emotions and the hot sensuality of the here and now until I have no idea where I am. Until I don’t care where we are because we’re in our own world, our own universe of skin and sin and love and worship.

Taking control of her hips as she pants and moans, I move her up and slam her down, slow and then fast, hard and then soft.

“Oh my god, oh my god.” She pants the words and I barely hear them past the roaring in my ears, the thudding of my heart, the blood raging in me, everything in me needing release.

“Touch yourself,” I rasp out the demand and she drags her hand from my pecs to the place where our bodies meet, burrowing her fingers in to touch herself where she needs to be touched. I lift her hips and groan as I watch her fingers move through her pussy, watch her stroke herself fast and hard as I slam her back down, filling her.

Her pants are loud and her hips pump fast, her fingers faster and I grit my teeth as everything in me gathers to a point of tingling in my spine ready to explode. But I hold off, biting down, waiting to feel the grip of her release.

When she calls out in a shuddering moan, “Logan…” and tightens her muscles around me I gush into her, filling the condom in pulse after pulse of my release, waves of euphoria rippling through me. I pull her down in a hug, hold her against me as we ride through the heaven of having each other, of giving everything we have and getting a universe of unfiltered joy in return.

* * *

It shouldn’t be morning already because the night barely ended. Sleep didn’t have much of a chance against the tide of need and ecstasy. She looks down at me, standing next to the bed, fully dressed.

“I’m so sorry I have to leave, but I need to get back before Nicky—”

“Say no more.” I lift myself to sitting. “I understand.” I need to erase the awkward troubled look from her face and reach out to take her hand. She looks away from my morning wood like last night never happened. I lace my fingers through hers to reassure her.

“Too late to be shy now.”