Chapter 26 #2
She's making these little whimpering sounds that drive me fucking insane, her bound wrists straining against the Christmas lights. The colored bulbs cast shadows across her sweat-slicked skin as I start fucking her with the candy cane in earnest.
“Beck—god—it's so,” She can't even form a complete sentence as I curl my tongue against her, matching the rhythm of the candy cane thrusting in and out of her.
Her thighs start to shake, and I know she's close. I push the candy cane in deeper, angling it upwards. My tongue flattens against her clit, applying firm pressure as I suck it between my lips.
“Come for me,” I command against her flesh. “Come all over this fucking candy cane.”
That does it. She shatters, her entire body convulsing as she comes hard, her pussy clenching and unclenching around the candy. I keep working her through it, relentless with my mouth and the makeshift toy until she's sobbing my name, begging me to stop.
I slowly ease the candy cane out of her, watching her entrance pulse as it's withdrawn. The stick is coated with her juices, glistening under the lights. Without breaking eye contact, I bring it to my mouth and wrap my lips around it, sucking her taste off the peppermint.
“Jesus Christ,” she whispers, watching me with wide eyes as I lick every inch of the candy clean.
I pull it from my mouth with a pop. “Fuck, Christmas is my favorite holiday now.”
She laughs breathlessly, her chest still heaving. “You're insane.”
“For you? Completely.” I toss the candy cane aside and crawl up her body, positioning myself between her spread thighs. My cock slides against her oversensitive flesh, making her gasp. “Now I'm going to fuck you.”
“Yes,” she hisses, wrapping her legs around my waist. “Please.”
I reach up and untangle the Christmas lights from her wrists, massaging the slight marks they've left behind. “You good?”
She nods, flexing her fingers as circulation returns. “Perfect.”
The moment her hands are free, she reaches for me, pulling me down into a hungry kiss. I can tell she tastes herself on my tongue, mixed with peppermint, and it only makes her kiss me harder.
I line myself up with her entrance, the head of my cock pressing against her slick heat. “Look at me,” I demand, my voice rough with need.
Her eyes lock with mine, pupils blown wide, lips parted. I push forward slowly, watching her face as I sink into her inch by inch. The tight, wet heat of her pussy grips me like a vise, and I have to grit my teeth to keep from coming on the spot.
“Fuck,” I groan when I'm fully seated inside her. “So fucking tight.”
She whimpers, adjusting to my size, her inner walls pulsing around me. I start to move, pulling back until just the tip remains before sliding back in with agonizing slowness.
“More,” she gasps, trying to speed things up by digging her heels into my ass.
“No.” I grab her hands, threading our fingers together and pinning them above her head on the plush rug. “We're doing this my way.”
The lights reflect in her eyes as she stares up at me, surrendering control. I establish a rhythm that's torturously slow, each thrust deliberate and deep. I want to feel every fucking inch of her, want her to feel every inch of me.
“Feel that?” I murmur, grinding against her. “Feel how perfect we fit?”
She nods, unable to speak as I roll my hips. Our joined hands tighten, her fingers squeezing mine with each thrust.
“This pussy is mine,” I tell her, maintaining the slow, deep pace. “No one else gets to feel how fucking perfect you are.”
“Yours,” she agrees, her voice breaking on the word.
I lower my head, pressing my lips to her hairline where tiny beads of sweat have formed. The scent of her shampoo mixes with peppermint and sex, creating an combination that's uniquely us.
“I love the way you smell,” I murmur against her skin, trailing kisses down to her forehead. “Love the way you taste. Forever going to associate peppermint with your pussy and my love.”
My hips never stop their slow, steady rhythm as I continue my path of kisses. Her nose, her cheeks, finally capturing her lips in a kiss that's surprisingly tender given how filthy this night has been.
“Beck,” she whispers against my mouth, her eyes filling with something deeper than lust.
I kiss her again, then move to her neck, sucking lightly at her pulse point. My thrusts remain measured and deep, dragging every sensation out for both of us. It's not just fucking anymore—it's never been just fucking with her.
“It feels like you’re everywhere right now,” she gasps.
I bury my face in the crook of her neck, breathing her in as I continue the slow, intense rhythm. Her legs tighten around my waist, her body trembling beneath mine.
I lift my head to look at her, finding her eyes filled with tears.
“I love you,” I growl against her lips, picking up my pace. “Fuck, I love you so goddamn much it hurts.”
“I love you too,” she whispers back, her voice breaking as I thrust deeper.
“I want everything with you,” I tell her, the words spilling out before I can stop them. “Not just tonight. Not just tomorrow. Every day.”
“I want that too.” her heels dig into my back.
“I want to marry you,” I confess, punctuating each word with a deep thrust that makes her gasp.
“I don’t want just random nights. I want to wake up with you every fucking morning and fall asleep with you every night.
I want every smile, every fight, every moan, every Christmas and every New Year until I die. ”
“Beck—” she starts, but I silence her with a hard, possessive kiss.
“I want to put my babies in you,” I growl against her mouth. “Watch you grow round with my child. See you holding our daughter or son. Fuck, I want that so bad.”
Her pussy clenches around me at my words, her back arching off the rug.
“Yes,” she moans, her nails digging into my shoulders. “God, yes.”
I fuck her deeper now, driven by the images flooding my mind—Hennessy in a white dress, Hennessy with a swollen belly, Hennessy holding our child.
“I'll even get your dad to fucking tolerate me,” I promise, though the thought of Javier Vega makes my blood boil. “I'll do whatever it takes. He can hate me all he wants, but I'm not going anywhere.”
She laughs, the sound turning into a moan as I change the angle.
“Please don’t talk about my dad right now,” she gasps.
“He's going to have to get used to me,” I tell her, sliding my hand between our bodies to circle her clit. “Because I'm not giving you up. Not ever.”
Her eyes lock with mine, glazed with pleasure but sharp with understanding. I mean every fucking word.
“I want to change your last name,” I confess, my rhythm becoming more urgent as heat builds at the base of my spine. “Can't stand the thought of you not sharing mine. Want you to be mine in every way.”
“Hennessy Kingston,” she whispers, testing it out, and fuck if that doesn't nearly make me lose it right there.
“That's right,” I growl, pressing harder as I feel her starting to tighten around me. “Mine. My wife. The mother of my children.”
She moans at my words, her nails dig into my shoulders, leaving marks I'll wear proudly tomorrow.
I'm fighting to hold back, determined to make her come one more time before I lose control.
“Yes—fuck—right there,” she pants, her eyes locked on mine as I circle her clit faster. “Don't stop, don't stop.”
“Come with me,” I command, my voice strained as I drive into her harder. “Come on my cock while I fill you up, practice for when we make babies.”
Her walls flutter around me, the first tremors of her orgasm beginning. I can feel my balls tightening, the pressure building to an almost painful intensity.
She cries out, her back arching off the rug.
My vision blurs as I empty myself inside her. Her pussy milks me through it, her inner walls contracting around my length as she screams my name. The holiday lights blur into streaks of color as we ride out our orgasms together.
When the last aftershock subsides, I collapse on top of her, careful to brace most of my weight on my forearms. We're both breathing hard, her chest rising and falling against mine, our skin slick with sweat.
“Holy shit,” she whispers after a moment, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on my back.
I lift my head to look at her, taking in her flushed cheeks and swollen lips. Her hair is a tangled mess, and there's a sticky residue from the candy cane drying on her inner thighs.
“C'mon,” I say, summoning the strength to push myself up. I slip out of her, watching as a trickle of my cum follows. “We gotta shower and clean you out because I'm a sick fuck and fucked you with a goddamn candy cane.”
She bursts out laughing, the sound so pure and fucking beautiful it makes my chest ache. “You really did that. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“You loved it,” I remind her, scooping her up into my arms. She weighs nothing, her frame easily cradled against my chest.
“I did,” she admits, pressing a kiss to my jaw as I carry her toward the bathroom. “But now I'm all sticky in places I shouldn't be sticky.”
“Worth it,” I declare, nudging the bathroom door open with my foot. “Next time we're trying the chocolate Santa.”
She smacks my chest, still laughing. “You're deranged.”
“For you? Absolutely.”