Chapter 6 Ellie
ELLIE
It’s the first Christmas morning I’ve ever looked forward to, and man…
it doesn’t disappoint. Cillian shifts closer beneath the heavy blankets, his body warm and solid against mine.
He tucks his face against my chest like he’s trying to burrow inside my skin, like the only place he can breathe is here, held in my arms. If anyone were watching, which I know would never happen with how possessive Cillian is, it would probably look funny.
This hulk of a broody coach wrapped in my much smaller arms. I run my fingers through his blond hair and down the strong line of his back, and he lets out a low, content groan that vibrates against me.
The sound melts something inside me because I know with absolute certainty that he’s never made that noise for another soul.
He presses slow, lingering kisses along my breasts, stopping only to give each nipple enough attention to make me whine his name, then he moves up to my collarbone.
Each kiss feels like a promise, like he’s relearning what tenderness feels like and letting himself savor every second.
His lips trail up my neck, brushing the sensitive skin there as he nuzzles closer.
“Ellie girl…” he whispers against my throat, voice rough with sleep. “I can’t keep from saying it anymore.”
He lifts his head just enough to look down at me, propped on one elbow, blue eyes painfully vulnerable.
“I love you so much it hurts,” he says, breath shaking. “You have my whole heart. And I can say without a doubt that you’re the only person I’ve ever loved… and the only one I ever will.”
A shiver runs through my entire body, because no one has ever said anything like that to me. Not with certainty. Not with devotion. Not with their soul seemingly trembling in their hands the way his are right now.
“Oh, Cillian, I love you too,” I whisper back, sliding my fingers into his hair. “I’ve loved you this entire time.”
He looks almost startled. Like he wasn’t expecting me to say it back, like part of him still thinks he doesn’t deserve to be loved that way. I stroke the side of his stubbly jaw, and he leans into my touch immediately like he’s hungry for it, greedy for it. My beautiful, touch-starved man.
“You don’t think I do,” I say softly. “But I promise you that you are my favorite person on this whole planet, and the only one that I love.”
He doesn’t speak.
Instead, he kisses me. It’s deep, consuming, and desperate, like he needs it to survive.
He shifts on top of me, settling between my legs under the blankets, not with heat or urgency, but like he just needs to be closer to me than is even physically possible.
His body covers mine like he’s trying to shield me from the entire world, and I hope that I can show him along the way that he’s done that for me since the day we met.
Cillian’s forehead rests against mine as our breaths mix and tangle.
“I’ve decided…” he murmurs, voice soft and a little wrecked, “that between your thighs with your heart beating against my chest is my favorite place to be.”
He pulls me tighter against him, caging me in with his forearms next to my head, bracing his frame above mine.
“Mine too,” I tell him softly. “Merry Christmas, Coach,” I say teasingly, and his lips twitch like he wants to smile, but it doesn’t quite make it. I suspect that’s because he’s more focused on the way his hard cock is pressing against my inner thigh, so close to where it wants to be.
Cillian shifts again, keeping us touching as much as he possibly can as though he’s worried I might slip away. I’m already molded against him, but he still wants me closer.
Without a word, he reaches down under the blankets and takes hold of my thigh, lifting it gently and guiding my leg up around his hip. The movement is slow, careful, reverent, like he’s asking my body to trust his without needing any words.
“I know you’ve got to be sore from last night,” he says sheepishly, but there's a lusty rumble in his tone. “But I need to be inside of you, baby. Just for a little while,” he gasps out the words, reaching down and lining his thick cock up to my entrance. I give him a little nod just before he slides in slowly, pushing in until he bottoms. He stays there, rooted inside of me, and he groans like it’s the best fucking thing he’s ever felt in his life.
Cillian exhales a soft, shaky breath against my neck as he lowers himself more fully on top of me, and something inside me melts. Our bodies fit together perfectly, his chest pressed to mine, his heartbeat tapping steadily against my ribs. He tucks his face back into my neck, nuzzling.
God, he feels so good like this.
Safe. Warm. Solid.
Mine.
His hand rubs up and down my side in slow, steady strokes. Every time he reaches my hip, he pulls me tighter against him, slowly and rhythmically pushing his cock deeper inside me each time.
“I like you like this,” he murmurs into my skin, voice low and rough from sleep. “Wrapped around me.”
I run my fingers through his hair again, scratching lightly at his scalp the way I’ve already learned he loves.
He lets out a quiet, content groan, dipping his head just enough to press soft, lingering kisses along my shoulder and up the side of my neck.
Not rushed. Not heated. Just… like he’s worshipping me.
He shifts his weight a little, the blankets rustling around us, and the way he holds me, fully against his body, makes me feel entirely claimed. Completely seen. Completely loved.
I curl my arms around him, hugging him close. “I like you like this too,” I whisper.
He burrows in even more, his breath warm on my collarbone. “Good,” he says softly, “because I’m not moving anytime soon even if it is Christmas morning.”
And I believe him. I feel it in the way he holds me, like I’m the first gentle thing he’s ever been allowed to touch, and he’s terrified he might break me.
I lean my cheek against his hair and close my eyes, letting myself feel it all: the warmth, the love, the tenderness, the belonging.
This is everything I ever needed. Everything I never thought I would have.
I slide my hands up the strong lines of Cillian’s back beneath the blankets. His skin is warm, muscles thick and tense from years of carrying too much. I start to massage gently in slow circles, with soft pressure, nothing rushed.
Cillian lets out a sound I’ve never heard from him.
A broken, relieved groan that feels like it comes from somewhere deep inside his soul.
His entire body melts against mine. This man, who can glare an entire hockey team into silence, who has the sharpest tongue and the coldest stare for anyone who doesn’t have my face, turns into absolute mush under my hands.
He burrows even closer, like he’s trying to press himself into my heartbeat. “Ellie girl…” he breathes, voice is shaky. “God, that feels good.”
I smile, rubbing a slower path along his spine, massaging away every hard edge he’s ever been forced to grow. He shivers under my touch, like actually shivers, and his fingers dig gently into my outer thighs. His hands feel possessive and needy, and his cock twitches inside of me.
“You deserve this,” I whisper into his hair. “You deserve softness. You deserve someone who adores you, Cillian. Someone who sees how good you are.”
He goes utterly still like the words hit him so hard he doesn’t know what to do with them.
I keep stroking, keep loving him with my hands because I want him to feel every word I say. “You’re special to me,” I breathe. “You protected me when you didn’t have to, and I’ll never forget how you’ve made me feel.”
He lets out a shaky exhale against my collarbone, and it feels like his entire chest caves with it. His voice is rough when he finally answers, like I’ve stripped him down to something unguarded.
“I… Ellie, baby…” He lifts his head just a little, eyes half-closed, dazed. “No one’s ever touched me like this. No one’s ever…” He swallows hard. “No one’s made me feel like this.”
I cup his jaw gently, thumb brushing his cheek. “I love making you feel good,” I whisper. “I love taking care of you.”
His eyes flutter shut.
He sinks back down against me, pressing his face into my neck again, and I feel him smile, and I know it’s a real one, tired and soft and completely, hopelessly mine.
“Look what you’re doing to me,” he murmurs, breathing so warm against my skin. “You make me soft, Ellie girl. Only you.”
And God, he says it like it’s the greatest gift he’s ever been given. He lifts his head, blue eyes dark and intent, and for a moment he just looks at me like he’s trying to memorize my entire existence.
His hand slides up my waist, slow and certain, until his fingers curl gently around the side of my neck. Not squeezing, just holding me in that way he knows I love. His thumb strokes the hollow beneath my jaw, tender and reverent.
“Come here,” he murmurs, voice low and rough.
Before I can react, Cillian adjusts his body, taking control with a soft authority that sends warmth rippling through me.
I love when he takes control. His other hand slips beneath the covers, down the curve of my hip, and he lifts my leg again, higher this time, allowing his cock to ease deeper inside my pussy.
I squeeze around him, and we both moan. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this kind of pleasure.
The way he stretches me, fills me, owns me.
Our bodies fall into place like they were carved to fit together. A perfect lock. A perfect match.
Cillian exhales shakily, forehead pressing to mine.
“See that?” he whispers, voice trembling with emotion rather than desire.
“This… this right here. It’s like you were made for me.
” He smooths his hand down my thigh, holding me there, keeping us joined chest-to-chest, heart-to-heart, breath mingling in the warm space between us.
His thumb brushes the delicate skin under my ear, and he looks at me like he’s seeing something sacred.
“I’ve never clicked with anyone,” he admits quietly, brow furrowing like the confession physically hurts him. “Not in any way. Not in friendship. Not in life.”
He nudges his nose against mine, and it’s a soft, aching gesture. “But you…” He swallows hard. “Your body fits mine. Your heart fits mine. Your soul fits mine. Perfectly.”
I feel my eyes burn as he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me even closer, as though he’s trying to fuse us together.
His voice lowers, barely a breath. “You’re the first person who’s ever felt like home.
” And lying there under the blankets, wrapped around him exactly the way he positions me, I know he means it with every piece of him.
His body is still between my legs under the blankets, his weight on me is warm and solid and heavy in the best possible way, holding me to the mattress like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he stops touching me.
Cillian’s hand drifts up to my jaw, thumb brushing the corner of my mouth with a tenderness that makes my breath catch. “Look at you…” he murmurs, almost in awe. “Christ, Ellie girl.”
Heat creeps up my throat, but he doesn’t let me look away.
“I had this whole Christmas morning planned,” he admits, voice rough and full of something so possessive that it steals the air from my lungs.
“Breakfast. Gifts. A walk outside in the blizzard with you bundled up in my coat.” He shakes his head.
“But all I want—” His thumb strokes my lower lip.
“All I want is to lie right here with you. To have you under me and around me. To feel you wrapped around me in a way no one else ever will.”
My heart stutters because the way he says it, and the way he looks at me, it feels like worship. Like I’m the only thing in the world he cares to treasure.
His gaze roams slowly, drinking me in. “I love your hair,” he whispers, reaching up to thread his fingers through the strands spread on the pillow.
“The way it falls around you like silk.” His fingers trace the line of my cheek.
“And your face…” His voice softens, almost breaks.
“I don’t think you understand how beautiful you are.
” His hand slides down, brushing my shoulder, my arm, and finally rests on my bare breast. “And your body…” He swallows hard, lips parting just slightly.
“Every contour of you fits against me like you were carved for me. Like you were meant to be in my arms, right here, exactly like this.”
The sincerity in his voice sends a tremor through me. Outside the windows, snow falls in thick, gentle curtains, the world outside muffled and quiet, like nature itself is trying not to interrupt us. And for the first time in my life, everything feels… perfect.
I lift my hands to his face, cradling him as he hovers over me, blue eyes soft and vulnerable and full of something so deep I don’t even know if there’s a word for it.
“Cillian…” I whisper. “This… all of this… being here with you, with the snow falling…” My smile trembles.
“It’s the best Christmas I could ever imagine. I don’t want anything else either.”
He closes his eyes like the words undo him.
Then he lowers himself into me again, gathering me close under the blankets, his head tucked beneath my chin, arms wrapping all the way around me like he’s never letting go.
My eyes start feeling heavy, probably because he did not let me sleep for more than an hour last night.
I lost count of how many times he took me, owned me, filled me.
“Merry Christmas, Ellie Girl,” he whispers, and he sounds as sleepy as I do.
“Merry Christmas, Cillian,” is the last thing I remember saying before falling asleep in his arms.