STUFFED STOCKINGS
LACY
A year ago, I stopped dating almost completely. I’d told my best friend, Ember, all about Dalton and the bet and how I was ninety-nine percent sure I’d been in love with him since my last breakup. Well, before that too. Let me explain.
The breakup had taken place about a week after I introduced him to my family. It was the Fourth of July, and I’d brought him home for the annual cookout.
Exactly seven days later, he told me there was no way something wasn’t going on between me and Dalton. He’d been there at my family’s house, the same as always, and my boyfriend said it was obvious we were into each other, that it didn’t take a genius to know and he wasn’t going to be a consolation prize of any sort.
I wasn’t even mad at him. Not really. That’s when I sat myself down and really thought about all of it. The dynamic between Dalton and I, the countdown of the bet coming to an end, and how I was tired of dating guys who didn’t make me feel nearly as wonderful and fuzzy on the inside as I did when I spent time with Dalton. That’s when I realized that the sixteen-year-old version of myself with a huge crush on her brother’s best friend was still inside me. She existed and her crush has only grown over time.
So I resolved to not date at all, knowing this Christmas would be the one where I told him how I felt, no matter what happened. I don’t know what this is for him. Just a fantasy played out? A crazy one-holiday stand? A wild story to reminisce over the next time we see each other? I can’t say for sure.
When I arrived here, I especially didn’t know. But now, with as thoughtful as his gifts had been, I’m starting to wonder if maybe, just maybe, there’s a little hope for me after all. For us.
“I can’t believe we’ve been awake all night,” Dalton says, drawing me back from my thoughts.
“Are you tired? We could take a nap.”
“It might be a good idea,” he says. “We’ve got stuff to do later today, and I don’t want us to be too tired.”
He stands, holding his hand out to help me up. I take it, rising to my feet and eyeing my stocking.
“We should take that to the bedroom with us for later,” I say.
Dalton’s stocking to me had consisted of all sorts of little sex toys, including beads, various vibrators, and even a ball gag. He made it clear we don’t have to use any of them, as well as anything else in his duffel bag, if I don’t want to. But I definitely want to. Maybe it’s the established relationship between us that makes it easier, but I trust Dalton completely. I’m willing to try just about anything with his guidance.
“We should, huh?” he asks, his tone light and teasing.
I roll my eyes, grabbing the stocking and stuffing it under my arm. I’m glad he called for a nap, honestly. I’m starting to dwindle. And there’s something very pleasing about the idea of curling up into Dalton’s arms and sleeping. Between his vet work and fighting fires voluntarily, he keeps in good shape. He’s a very solid man.
I peel out of the clothes I wore to unwrap gifts, sort of wondering why we dressed at all. Then again, maybe naked present time would’ve resulted in not unwrapping gifts and more or less rolling around in front of the tree.
Crawling into bed, I watch him remove his shirt and then start unzipping his pants. Did I mention the man has a wonderful backside? I’ve never been a girl who was way into how a man’s ass looked, but Dalton’s ass made me want to squeeze it and smack it and maybe even bite it. Oooh, yeah, bite it.
He strips to his boxer briefs, then crawls into bed next to me. We assume the standard big-spoon, little-spoon positions—me being the little spoon. His taut arm wraps around my middle, pulling me flush against his chest. He’s warm to the touch, and despite being someone who’s always cold, I don’t think that will ever be a problem if I’m next to him.
His hand moves my hair away from my neck as he leans in, sprinkling light kisses from my earlobe to my collarbone and back. The sensation sends a shiver down my spine and my skin turns to gooseflesh.
Mm, this man. He’s exquisite.
“Dalton?” My voice is barely a whisper.
“Yes?” he says between kisses.
I slide back, pressing my ass against his lap. He isn’t the only one who can tease. A groan escapes him as he grows hard against me. “I find myself having just a little too much energy to fall asleep.”
“Do you want me to help you with that?” he asks as he palms my tits.
“Yes, please,” I say as my breath turns shallow.
Dalton pulls away from me and crawls to the end of the bed. The sky outside is beginning to brighten, giving me just enough light to trace the lines of his body as he rummages for who knows what.
He comes back to lie down beside me, placing whatever he grabbed next to him.
“Lie on your back,” he says, helping me flip.
His mouth takes mine, tonguing it open and sucking my bottom lip between his teeth. Then, he turns his attention to my breasts, breaking our kiss to place my right nipple into his mouth and sucking hard. He uses two fingers to tweak and pull at my left nipple as it hardens into a stiff peak.
He grabs something from next to him, then holds it up so I can see as he removes his mouth from me. My breath is erratic, and all I can think about is the tingly feeling between my legs.
“Nipple clamps,” he says. “They won’t hurt.”
His eyes are fixed on mine as he waits for me to approve. I give a curt nod as I try to regulate my breathing. He rolls my nipple between his fingers again, this time a little harder.
As I cry out, he places the small clamp onto my nipple, the immediate pressure causing that tingling feeling to intensify. He twists the other, this time even harder, and then clamps it.
My head flies back against the pillow as I cry out once more. It doesn’t hurt. Not even close. It’s deliciously prickly and makes me feel so sexy. Of course, that may be the way he’s looking down at me like I’m forbidden fruit and he just jumped the fence to the garden.
“You are so sexy,” he says. “This looks so good on you.” He twirls his finger around the dainty chain that connects the two clamps like a devilish piece of jewelry. He lightly tugs, sending a jolt of sensation through my nipples.
My back arches instinctively, loving the hot sensation this nipple play is giving me. “Oh my god.”
The next thing he grabs is out of my eyeline, but I hear him flick it on and recognize the familiar and distinctive buzzing sounds of a vibrator.
“Take off your panties and spread for me,” he whispers against my ear.
I waste no time complying, slipping my panties down far enough to push them over my knees, and shimmying them the rest of the way off.
He takes my right leg and places it over his hip, helping me to open wide for him.
The vibrator touches my inner thigh, causing me to jump a little. But just as quickly, I’m relishing what’s to come, pushing my body toward him. He inches it closer to my center painfully slow. My toes curl in and arch out as I silently beg him to put me out of my misery.
“Oh my god,” I manage to say on a breath, not sure I can trust my voice with more.
“Do you want it?” he asks, his eyes still locked with mine.
I nod vigorously, biting my bottom lip.
“Real bad?”
I nod again, sending up a little prayer that he gets on with it.
“I want to hear you beg for it.”
In a split second, he presses the tip of the vibrator against my clit and removes it just as quickly, pulling it down my leg again.
“Please, Dalton, I want it. I want it so bad,” I say, breath ragged.
A devilish grin plays over his features as he slowly puts the tip back against me, running it up and down over my clit. He slips the tip of it into me with ease.
“You’re so wet, baby,” he whispers. “Is that for me?”
“Yes.” My back arches again as I cry out, unable to say anything more as he rubs circles over me with the small battery-operated gift from heaven.
“How about like this?” he asks.
He pulls it away, then plunges it deep inside me and I whimper. He pumps it into me over and over again before pulling it back out completely and continuing with the small torturous circles over me.
“Yes.” I guess it’s the only word my brain knows right now. Or at least the only one I want to say to him. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”
He plunges into me again, pumping, and then again with the circles. Oh. My God. Pleasure begins to build low in my belly as he continues his pattern of delicious torture.
I moan and pant, the pressure on my nipples and against my clit driving me wild. It’s almost too much. If you can really die from too much pleasure, I know this is the way I’ll go.
“Dalton,” I say. “I’m going to come. Oh my god.”
“Not yet,” he says, pulling the vibrator completely away, then running it down my inner thigh.
“Fuck!” I yell, my legs wobbling from the absence. “No!”
“I want you to tell me when you’re about to come,” he says. “You don’t get to come until I say. Do you understand?”
I nod up and down, my body writhing, begging to be touched again.
He presses the tip of the vibrator against my clit again, swirling it around and around, then letting the shaft slide over me. Then he plunges it into me again, pumping hard a couple of times before pulling it back out. It’s the same pattern as before and it’s driving me wild.
The familiar pressure begins to build in my stomach again, his command ringing in my ears. You don’t get to come until I say. Hearing him say that to me in his deep, rough voice is almost more than I can handle. It was so demanding, so hot. I don’t know what’s come over me, but when he’s in charge, I’m putty.
“I’m close,” I whisper, my pelvis chasing the feel of the vibrator as he pulls it away.
My legs quiver, every fiber of my being on fire for this man. “Dalton, please.” As a strong, independent woman, I’ve vowed to never beg a man for anything. But when I’m in bed with Dalton, I renounce that vow for a new dirty one. It’s official. Just decided it right now.
“You can come this time,” he says, pressing the machine back against me.
It doesn’t take long for him to build me all the way back up.
“That’s it, baby,” he says. “Come for me.”
His words steer me right over the edge, and I fall into a delicious orgasm that feels like it might split me in half. I wouldn’t care if it did. His eyes are still fixed on my face, his expression one of intense serenity.
A few seconds more and my body is no longer rigid with pleasure. I relax, sinking back down into the mattress and nudging my face into his neck. God, he smells good.
Flipping the vibrator off, he sets it aside, then gently removes the clamps from my nipples. The sudden loss of pressure is a very different but equally wonderful sensation.
I don’t want to move. Or breathe. But I do manage to sling my arm over him, pulling him into me just as quickly as sleep invades the edges of my eyes.
“Good night, Lacy.” Dalton’s voice is the last thing I hear before I’m completely taken over by the best sleep of my life.