Chapter 28
Nash
Ilove nothing more than hearing those words leave Caleb’s mouth—and everything my baby desires, he gets.
“You want that slutty little hole filled?”
“Yes. Fuck me, Nash. I’m ready,” he pants, eyes heavy with lust, hands braced on the wet tile.
“Right here?” I tease, palming his ass. “Or want to go to the bed?”
“Now,” he begs. “Here. Please.”
That’s all I need to hear. I pull my fingers out of him, and push him forward until his chest meets the shower wall. Water slides down his back, pooling in the dips of his spine, and I step in behind him, lining myself up.
“Ass out. Hands on the wall. Keep your back arched for me, just like that,” I order. I went back to grab the bottle of lube from the bedside table to bring in here, just in case, and I’m glad I did. “And don’t even think about touching yourself until I say so.”
He groans, doing exactly as he’s told while I rub lube over my cock and his hole, trying to get him ready.
I grip his hips and nudge the head of my cock to his entrance.
He gasps as I ease in slowly, letting him feel every inch until I’m buried to the hilt.
He’s tight, warm, and so goddamn perfect.
The way he sucks me in makes it nearly impossible to hold back.
Once I’m fully inside him, I pause, letting us both feel it.
“You okay?” I check in, making sure this is still what he wants.
“Fuck,” he chokes out, forehead resting against the tile. “So good.”
I slide almost all the way out before driving back in, watching the way the muscles in his back tighten with every stroke.
His body moves with mine, hips pushing back, greedy for more, and I give him exactly what he wants.
The pace builds fast and hard, the slap of our bodies echoes through the steam-filled shower.
“Fucking hell,” he cries out. “Fuck, fuck, oh fuck—yes.”
I shift one hand from his hip and bring it down on his ass, once, then again, rougher. The sound rips through the space and he moans. My fingers tangle in his soaked hair, tugging just enough to tilt his head back so my mouth can find his ear.
“You take everything I give you so well, baby,” I praise. “The way this hole grips me? You were made to take my cock, my perfect little slut.”
He whimpers, so far gone now he can barely string words together. Just that need in his voice, that shake in his hands as he braces himself against the wall, tells me everything.
“Please,” he grits out. “Fuck.”
He’s gasping for air, cheeks flushed from the heat and the force of my thrusts, mouth open like he’s begging for more, even when he can’t find the words as I release his hair.
His back is still arched perfectly, just like I told him, water streaming over every inch of his bare skin. His whole body is rocking forward with every slam of my hips, then jerking back again like he never wants me to leave as he fucks himself on my cock.
My grip tightens on his hips, pulling him harder into me, each thrust slamming home. He sobs out a moan when I shift my angle and hit that spot inside him that makes his knees nearly buckle.
“There,” he gasps. “Fuck, Nash—there—right there—”
“You want me to stay right there?” I murmur darkly, leaning over him, lips brushing the shell of his ear. My wet chest is flush against his back, my cock buried so deep he can barely breathe.
“Please—don’t stop—don’t stop—fuck,” he moans.
Moving one hand off his hip, I reach around and palm his throat, not squeezing, just holding and claiming. Caleb’s breath hitches, and he whimpers, his dick twitching untouched beneath him, leaking steadily.
“You’re mine,” I whisper, voice rough and low. “You let me fuck you however I want, don’t you? You’re my slut.”
“I’m yours,” he pants. “Your slut, Nash. I—fuck—I love when you take me like this.”
My cock throbs at the confession, hips stuttering as I slam into him again, even harder now. “Yeah? You love being my hole? That’s all you are right now—my perfect hole to use how I please.”
I worry it might be too far, but instead, he moans in pleasure. “Yes! Nash, yes,” he chokes, pushing back into every thrust like he needs it. “Love being used by you.”
I release his throat and wrap my hand around his stomach instead, holding him closely as my thrusts grow erratic. I reach between his legs and brush the slick head of his cock, just once, and he jerks violently.
“Wait, not yet,” he cries out. “I’ll come too fast.”
“Hold it for me then, baby,” I growl. “You can do it.”
He shudders violently, thighs trembling. “I—I’ll try. Feels so good.”
I bite down gently on the side of his neck, licking over the temporary mark, loving the way he whimpers beneath me.
“You’re doing so good,” I grit out. “Taking every inch of me like you were fucking made for it.”
His only reply is a desperate moan as I keep thrusting.
“Too close, need to touch you.” I gasp, reaching down again, gripping his cock tight and jerking him off in time with my thrusts.
He falls apart: his body tightens, legs shaking uncontrollably, and a strangled cry tears from his throat. “Fuck, Nash, fuck—I’m coming—”
The moment I feel his hole clench around me, I lose it. My grip on his waist turns bruising as I slam into him one last time and come deep inside of him, groaning into the crook of his neck.
We both stand here, panting, bodies trembling from release. My forehead rests against his spine, and his body goes pliant beneath my hands.
I kiss the space between his shoulder blades, still inside him, not ready to be disconnected just yet.
Until he shifts, turning around in my arms, and I slip free.
He wraps his arms around my neck. His skin’s slick and flushed.
I hold him close, letting the water rush over both of us while our breathing slows together, and I gently wash him.
When we’re finished, I reach past him and turn the water off with one hand and quickly grab two towels from the shelf, wrapping one around his shoulders. My fingers brush along his skin as I pull the towel snug and lean in, kissing him, and he lets out the smallest sigh against my mouth.
I step back, rub the second towel over my arms and chest with quick, practiced movements, then nudge him gently toward the bedroom.
“You doing okay, baby?”
“Yeah, I’m great. Best Christmas ever.” Caleb smiles softly.
It’s impossible not to smile at that, especially after what he told me a few weeks ago about how Christmas had always felt a bit lonely for him.
Tess was cool when I asked if I could pick the kids up in the morning to bring them here. She’s had them all day today, and I told her she could spend the day after with them, too. This way, hopefully everyone gets what they want, and tomorrow is full of everything Caleb and Sam want it to be.
I look back at him now, already curled on his side, watching me.
“Well,” I say as I slide into bed, “I’m glad I could help with that. Hopefully, this is the start of a lot of really great Christmases together.”
He smiles. “I’d like that. So much, Nash.”
I reach for him, pulling him in until we’re cuddled up warm and close, his head tucked under my chin.
I kiss his forehead, then his temple, then his lips—slow and soft and full of everything I didn’t say out loud.
I let myself imagine years of this. Holidays and breakfasts and snow days and sleepy nights with tangled legs because I love him, and I want it all.
I’ve hardly known him for a month, but I know in my gut that this is a forever kind of love.
I bury my face into him further, and we stay wrapped up in each other for a while, but before either of us can fall asleep, I nudge him.
“We should probably go be Santa, huh?” I remind him. I have my gifts for Emma and Benji in the car, and a special one for Caleb that I’ll leave in there until tomorrow.
“You’re right.” He groans as he peels himself out of bed, tugging on a hoodie and a pair of sweats while I do the same, and follow him into the hallway, the soft creak of the wood floor under our feet the only sound.
“So maybe next year, we’ll do the gifts before I unwrap you, huh?”
“Probably a smart idea.” He laughs.
The living room is dimly lit by the glow of the tree. It’s quiet and peaceful and homey—exactly how Christmas Eve should feel.
Caleb crouches by the closet, pulling out the hidden stash of wrapped presents he tucked away in there, and we arrange them under the tree in careful little piles, making sure Sam’s name is visible on at least half of them.
“He’s gonna lose his mind,” Caleb says, smiling down at the gifts like he can already hear Sam’s excited shriek.
“He’s going to wake us up at the crack of dawn, isn’t he?” I ask, which earns me a laugh and a look.
“You know it.” Caleb laughs.
I step closer, wrapping my arms around his waist from behind. “Benji is the same way. I’ll go pick them up and bring them here as soon as we’re awake in the morning, so hopefully Sam doesn’t need to wait too long.”
He leans into me, his body soft and warm against mine. “Thank you. This is already the best Christmas ever.”
We stand there for a minute, just looking at the tree, arms wrapped around each other until I’m ready to face the cold night.
“I just need to go grab mine from the car. I’ll be right back.”
“I can help, it’ll go quicker, then we can get back into bed sooner,” he says with a smirk.
“Well, come on, then.” I laugh as we each grab presents from the car and bring them in to set them around Caleb’s tree, mixing them with Sam’s gifts.
“Alright,” he says, standing back and taking a photo of the tree. “We should try to sleep before the tiny tornado shows up.”
“True, but we have one more task to do, don’t we?” I say, moving toward the kitchen.
“The cookies.” He laughs.
Two of the cookies we made earlier are sitting out. One chocolate chip and one sugar cookie, and we each take a bite of one, setting them both back on the plate.
“Is Santa duty complete now?” he asks.
“Sure is, let’s go to bed,” I say as I kiss his shoulder. I pull him back down the hall, already picturing the way Sam’s face will light up in the morning. I’m excited to be here for all of this, and every year after that we’re lucky enough to get.
“Merry Christmas, baby,” I whisper once we’re back in bed.
“Merry Christmas.”