Chapter 5 Mara
MARA
Despite my lack of skill at skating, I couldn’t wait to find out what Jonas had planned next. I was starting to enjoy this Christmas thing, especially with him by my side.
We held hands in the car on the way, but when we pulled into the driveway, I was surprised. “We’re staying at home?”
“You wouldn't want to do this in public,” he replied, voice slightly hoarse.
My stomach flipped with the insinuation.
“Come on.” He led me into the house and farther into our living room, lit only by the red and white Christmas tree in the corner.
Jonas let go of my hand and walked to our electric fireplace. As soon as the flames danced amongst artificial logs, he ordered, “Get naked and lay on the rug. I'll be right back.”
My mouth fell open as I stared after him walking away.
When he realized I wasn’t moving, his voice grew dark. “Now.”
I shivered with excitement, finally taking off this ugly Christmas sweater and my leggings. Then I tugged the hair tie from my bun and ran my fingers through my mane so I could look as good as possible laying on our fluffy white rug.
The material was soft under my bare skin, and I lay back, running my fingers over my stomach, my breasts, watching my nipples form peaks.
I was ready for him. For whatever he asked me to do. Because after all this time, I knew at least one thing for certain: Jonas could make me feel good.
I heard his footsteps on the stone floor and turned to see him walking toward me, naked, with a strand of glowing lights in his hands.
“Hands. Above. Your. Head.”
There was no arguing with demanding, dominating Jonas. So I did as he asked, every nerve ending in my body on high alert for him.
He knelt behind my head ,and I shifted back, mesmerized by his thick cock and heavy sack, as he secured my hands in the strand of lights. I licked my lips, wanting to taste him, wanting to make him feel good.
“Beg for it,” he uttered.
I bit my lip. “Please. Please let me taste your cock.”
“Good girl,” he hummed, coming to kneel over my neck. He angled his hips so his head bumped against my mouth. I kissed the tip before opening and sucking him in.
I wished I had use of my hands. But I didn’t.
So I took him as deep as I could for as long as I could until I coughed and sputtered on his dick like I knew he liked.
He drew out, giving me a chance to breathe. “Fuck, baby. You know how to please me.”
“I do,” I said before taking him back in my mouth. Sucking and swirling my tongue until I could taste the first beads of semen.
We’d been together long enough I knew he’d want more than my mouth. And just like I expected, he pulled away from me, moving down my body. His fingers grazed over my entrance, and he smiled wickedly.
“That turned you on, didn’t it, baby?”
“You always turn me on,” I replied, before he angled himself inside me and showed me pleasure until I couldn’t tell if the stars I saw were from the strength of the orgasm or Christmas lights.
When we were done, he carefully removed the strand of lights binding my arms and gently kissed both my wrists. And then I lay on his chest, tracing my fingers over the peaks and valleys of his stomach muscles. “This was the perfect day,” I said to him, sated in every sense.
He pulled me closer and kissed the top of my head. I felt so safe. So warm.
“It’s about to get better,” he said.
I rolled my head to the side to look up at him. “How is that even possible?”
He chuckled. “Go to your office and see.”
With a small smile on my lips, I stood, pulling the blanket around me and leaving him bare. He propped himself up, all angles and lines there on the rug. I paused for a moment, taking him in.
“Eyes up here,” he teased.
“Can you blame me?” I smiled back and then bent to give him a quick kiss on the cheek before padding to my writing cave.
When I went inside, the entire place had been decked out in Christmas everything.
There were colorful lights strung around the ceiling, the comfy chair had a red throw blanket with white snowflakes sitting over the top.
And then the free surfaces had been covered with cotton “snow” and Christmas figurines.
And right next to my desk was a picture of Jonas in a Santa suit, the jacket open to show his body. I picked it up and stared at it, suddenly unsure of my motivation to write instead of having more spicy time by the fire.
“Like it?” he asked.
I turned to see him leaning against the door frame, now, regretfully, wearing boxers. “I love it,” I said. I went to him and gave him a long kiss.
He mumbled against my lips. “Shouldn’t you be writing?”
I smiled. “Sure, Santa. And when I get done, it’s your turn for a present. Except I won’t be sitting on your lap.” I leaned closer, humming into his ear, “I’ll be on my knees.”
“Best Christmas ever.”