Mistlehoe

Chapter 9 - You Make It Feel Like Christmas

Holly 'How do you bend your body like a pretzel so easily?' Gloria heaves as she tries to get into a Plough Pose.

I giggle as I feel the delicious stretch all through my back and spine.

I need to be limber for tonight.

I cannot seem to get my mind to conjure up any other image other than me wanting to ride my exboyfriend's father’s dick.

I flicker between feeling deplorable because the idea of what I'm doing is reprehensible, but then I think about how Cole used to treat me, and I suddenly feel less vile.

I breathe in a calming breath, trying to focus on the stretch throughout my whole body as I contemplate and justify my situation with Mistlehoe and Chris.

'Yoga helps loosen my muscles after a long day of work in the kitchen.' I sigh in contentment as I come out of the stretch.

'Believe it or not, making lollies is killer on the shoulders and back, and this helps me find my inner peace.' I come down into a child's pose at the instruction of our yoga teacher.

'My body aches, and I'm not finding any inner peace whatsoever,' Gloria complains.

Instead of joining the rest of the class in a child's pose, she sits cross-legged and faces me.

'So, what's the date tonight?' she quizzes.

I'm a kid on Christmas morning, thinking about my afternoon ahead.

'I'm actually just going on a Christmas date.' There were no pretences, or no suggestive scenarios that would end in sex.

It was just an old-fashioned Christmas date that I was told to dress warmly for.

It's not like I didn't want to hop on Chris' dick and go for a ride, but I was giddy at the prospect that we were actually going to hang out together.

To me, that felt more intimate.

'Shh.' The instructor chastises us, admonishing us with a surly look.

As I refocus, I'm interrupted again by a shrill ringing.

Ignoring it, I close my eyes.

When it doesn't stop, the instructor blasts the class again.

'Phones should be switched on silent.

Whose phone is ringing?' It's only when Gloria nudges me that I realise it's mine.

It's safe to say that we won't be coming back to this particular class.

With a red face, I swipe the screen and jump up from my position, sprinting out the door.

'Hello?' I puff, sliding down the wall.

'Holly, it's Mum.' Her voice would sound exasperated to anyone else, but that's her usual tone to me.

I wasn't expecting her to call.

I mean, she hasn't called since I arrived in Tasmania.

I'm stunned at how cold her voice sounds, and I don't know what I should ask her first.

She is at me again before I can even get a word in edgewise.

It's the same old story.

I know exactly what's coming.

'Are you finished playing kid in a candy shop? Your father wants to know when you'll enrol in law school?' I screw my eyes shut in disappointment, my head falls to my knees as I feel the mist behind my eyes.

Why can't she just be proud of me and support me? As I feel my nose burn, I know she's waiting for a response.

'I don't want to go to law school.' I whimper like a wounded animal.

All I ever wanted was to make my parents proud, and to know I've failed them monumentally hurts.

The fact they've turned their back on me proves that.

'Not this again.

I told you before, Holly, that you're too emotional.

You let your feelings get in the way of being practical.

No one is saying you need to actually become a lawyer, but at some stage you need to get a reputable degree and then marry someone from our inner circle.

Your dilly-dallying is just prolonging the inevitable, and you're giving your father and I undue stress and headaches.'

I attempt to set her straight, but the words are stuck in my throat.

It doesn't matter anyway because she once again interrupts.

'Look, I don't have time to knock some sense into you.

Stop being the biggest mistake of our lives and get it together.

I expect you home for Christmas.' With that, she hangs up on me, the tone reverberating in my ear.

Sniffling, I feel myself drowning in shallow breaths.

I know I'm panicking because I don't want any part of the life she's painted for me.

My tights feel like they’re sewed on and suffocating me, and the air around me is stifling to the point of asphyxiation.

The only person in my life who accepts me wholly and completely is Chris.

He treats me like an equal, encourages my imagination, accepts my fantasies, lets me divulge my love for Christmas…and, above all, puts my happiness before anything else.

Why does the one person who should mean nothing to me mean everything? 'Sweetie, what's wrong?' I feel the warmth of Gloria's arms wrap around me, and it's the exact kind of hug I used to wish for from my mum when I was younger.

'Mum…Mum called and asked me to go to law school and get married, and then she hung up.' I blubber in a nutshell.

'She thinks what I'm doing is frivolous, and I feel…I…feel so alone.

Like I'm not going to make it here, and then I'll be forced to tuck my tail between my legs and live out this grand plan she has for me.' Wetness slides down my cheeks as I get the words out.

'She called me a mistake.' I'd always secretly known somewhere inside me that she and Dad didn't want me, but they were too Catholic to believe in abortion.

They are hypocrites.

They preach Jesus Christ, yet they don't follow any of his commandments.

Her tight embrace wraps around me like a weighted blanket.

It settles my frenetic nerves.

'Sweetheart, we won't let that happen.

You are so gifted.

Your talent is unmatched.

I know you're going to make it.

Don't let your mum ever tell you otherwise.

Promise me you won't give up on your dreams or let others shadow who you are?'

I peer up at my friend, who's usually so go-lucky, and see the seriousness and depth of care and concern in her eyes.

Compassion.

It's something that has been severely lacking in my life.

No wonder I didn't recognise it.

'Thank you,' I weep, strangulating her in a bear hug.

For the rest of the day, Gloria stays by my side.

We have smoothies after our class and then go window shopping.

When she drives me back home, I feel a teensy bit better, but nowhere near what I should, considering I’m meeting Chris soon.

My mood still hasn’t lifted when I meet the man who makes my mouth water.

He had me meet him by the giant Christmas tree at the Christmas markets.

I see him before he sees me, and I can't help but feel my eyes brimming with tears.

He's everything.

Unlike the hundreds of people around us who have their heads down and buried in their phones, he is just observing the festival's Christmas magic.

He has on a black tee under his open red and black plaid shirt and a leather jacket on top.

His thick thighs are encased in black denim jeans, and his usually scuffed boots are polished to perfection.

He's even trimmed his beard and styled his hair.

When he spots me, his teeth gleam, but soon enough, creases of concern crinkle around his eyes as he stalks over to me in haste.

'What's wrong, honey bear?' The use of another ridiculous but equally endearing pet name turns the corners of my lips up slightly.

'It's nothing,' I dismiss, avoiding his scrutiny.

I attempt to walk past him but he isn't having a bar of it.

He fastens his hands on my waist so I can't escape.

'Try again, cupcake.' This time, I laugh at the ludicrousness Slumping my shoulders, I give in.

'My mum called for the first time in God knows how long.' Chris and her are like chalk and cheese.

He's warm and supportive.

He always cherishes me and tells me how wonderful I am and how proud he is of my work.

I feel sick to tell him that all my parents see is a huge disappointment.

He cups the side of my face, and I lean into him for comfort and safety.

'She told me to stop wasting my time here, that I have to become a lawyer, and that she wants me to get married to someone they know.' I sniff, trying to keep my tears at bay.

His face hardens before he pulls me to his chest.

'I won't let that happen, princess.' I inhale his spicy scent, and warmth spreads through me as if I were sitting near a fireplace.

As much as I don't want him to see me as a kid, I wonder what having a father like Chris would have been like.

I know he would have cherished me.

Encouraged me.

Adored me.

And without a doubt, he would have been proud of me.

I know this because despite his son being a dipshit, his love for him is infinite.

Clutching him to my chest, more water falls from my eyes.

'I'm sorry I ruined our date,' I whimper.

He pulls away slightly and wipes my wet cheeks with his thumbs.

When I crane my neck upwards, I feel like I'm staring at my ideal version of what a home would be.

He makes me feel safe and looks at me with honeyed caramel eyes that make me want to melt.

'Angel, you haven't ruined anything.

It hasn't even started.' My heart stutters as he leans in and touches his lips to mine.

It's a light flutter, but it causes the butterflies to swarm inside the pit of my stomach again.

He affects me so much that I almost forget we're in public.

'You kissed me for anyone to see,' I murmur, pulling back.

He calms my nervous system like no other and is the only person who can distract me from all my problems.

'Hmm.

Sure did, sweetheart.' He winks and spins me so I'm beside him.

When he's happy I'm snuggled to him, my head nestled on his chest, he links his fingers with mine.

'We're matching,' he notes, leading me further into the maze of markets.

We so are, and it's cheesy as fuck, but I love it more than anything.

I'm in a red and black plaid skirt with black stockings and knee-high boots.

A black turtleneck moulds to my skin, and I, too, have a leather jacket on.

'Great minds think alike,' I laugh, feeling the tension of my parents leaving my body.

'Let's stop here.' My attention is pulled to a little stall that does handmade Christmas baubles.

'Later, cutie pie.

Let's do some ice skating first, then you can shop ‘til you drop.' I squeak, peeking up at him to see the myrrh in his eyes at my dorky reaction.

Making good on his promise, we glide over the ice under a canopy of fairy lights, drink mulled wine, add our own bauble on the community tree, make our own gingerbread house, and buy all sorts of knickknacks.

This is by far the best date I’ve ever been on.

Then again, I've been on some doozies, including one with Cole that entailed taking me to a local buffet where he proceeded to touch the food with his hands and fill up no less than ten plates so he could get, in his words, 'value for money.'

I’m restles sly waiting for Chris to come back from the bathroom, anticipating what lies ahead for the rest of the evening.

Twilight is settling upon us, the sky transitioning from royal purple and deep navy to midnight black.

Pops of twinkling diamonds are glittering in the sky, and tonight, they seem to be twinkling brighter, like they are sprinkling magic upon the markets.

The friction of rubbing my hands together to warm them up also helps alleviate the frenzied energy coursing through my body.

I really don't want the night to be over.

We haven't discussed anything other than a platonic date, but every fibre of my being wants to go back to his.

The only other way I can think to cap off this enchanting evening would be to make love to Chris, but even I know that’s one Christmas miracle that won’t happen.

I let myself fall into daydreaming about Chris' body on mine when I feel a hot puff of air on my hands.

Snapping my head up, I'm delighted to see him take my hands and breathe into them to warm them up.

When he feels they're heated enough, he puts both of them in his pockets.

He strokes my hair as we both contently look at the swarms of people around us.

Kids are cheerful and on the precipice of driving their parent's mental with exaggerated excitement, while the couples stand out for being overly cutesy.

I recognise them immediately because we're one of them.

Even if we aren't a real couple, it feels like we are — especially in this moment.

Feeling around in his pockets, my hands touch his keys, his phone, a small wallet that just holds cards, and a mini package I can't exactly identify.

It feels like chiffon—smooth but rough, and there's definitely a silky ribbon because the dangle of the string tickles my palm.

As if Chris sensed my confusion, he lets me in on what it is.

'That's for you, baby.' My eyes furrow.

He nods to reassure me that I didn't mishear him.

Leaving one hand in, I take the other out along with the small bag.

I guessed right.

It's a small chiffon drawstring bag.

As I bring it into the light, I see it's light blue and has threaded silver snowflakes all over it.

'Open it, precious.' Unfortunately, I need my other hand, so I remove that from the warmth of his jacket and pull the string.

When I tip the contents out in my hand, my breath hitches.

'Chris.' I'm aware my breath comes out all husky and breathy but I cannot for the life of me help it.

While browsing the stalls, my eye caught on the most stunning ruby and diamond candy cane stud earrings.

I took one glance at the price tag, and my eyebrows flew to my hairline.

It was eye-watering, and quite frankly, I did not have thousands of dollars to spend on something so frivolous, even if it was sentimental, because I was Candy, and I wanted Chris’ 'cane.'

'I can't.' I thrust the earrings back into his hands, only to be stopped.

'Honey, I wanted to buy these for you.' He's the most thoughtful and genuine guy I've ever met, and my feelings for him intensify by the minute.

It's equally thrilling and terrifying at the same time, sort of like the feeling you get when you're bob-sledding down a mountain at a startling pace.

It feels like the wind is being knocked out of me.

I carefully contemplate my next words, hoping I don't make a gigantic fool of myself.

I summon the courage to tell him what this night means to me.

Instead of looking up at his eyes, I settle for his kiss-worthy lips.

'Being here with you…it's everything.'

The expensive earrings are long forgotten when he presses his mouth to mine with force.

So much force that I am nearly knocked off the stool I'm seated on.

His strong arms go around my back just in time to reposition me.

For extra measure, I lock my legs around him, caging him to me.

When I'm sturdy and recentered again, one of his hands fists my hair, directing our kiss, while the other tangles with mine and rests on his chest.

Our kiss is not appropriate for a public setting where there are kids around.

Heck, it wouldn't even be deemed appropriate for anywhere else other than a sex club or in private, but we don't give two fucks.

I'm lost in him.

When he bucks into me, I know this night will not end with him dropping me back to my motel.

How do I know that? Because his cock is piercing into the thin fabric of my stockings.

We're somewhat shrouded in a dark corner, and his body is so large that it eclipses mine entirely, so no one can actually see his hand slipping underneath my skirt.

Chris puncturing a hole in my stockings at the juncture of where my pussy is will go down as one of the hottest moments of my life.

'You drive me fucking crazy, Holly.' His kisses are wet as his fingers hone in on the saturated fabric between my thighs.

Chris has the capacity to turn any woman on with a single smoulder, so is it any wonder why I splurged on a teeny tiny silver satin set for him?

Given how wet I am, I'm sure the triangle between my legs is now a dark grey, which ruins the allure, but the way he's smiling into my mouth tells me he won't care a single bit.

'You're soaked, baby.

Is this all for me?' I bite down on his lower lip, swiping my tongue across it to soothe the sting, pull back to nod, and push forward once more to thrust my tongue back into his mouth.

His groan spurs me on as I start bucking into him.

'Did I ever tell you how fucking sexy your pussy is, princess? How smooth and sweet? And that little patch of curls you have.

I think about it endlessly.

Never get rid of it.' His growl in my ear makes me quake as a foreign sound falls from my lips when he stabs two fingers underneath the poor excuse for underwear.

Thrusting ferociously in and out, I'm already hurtling towards the summit.

'So creamy.' As quick as he tore into me, he's just as fast when he rips his fingers from me, leaving me bereft.

Putting them in his mouth, I'm transfixed when he sucks my juices from them.

'So delicious.'

All I can do is stare at this wicked man, speechless.

He moves to whisper something in my ear, and even before he says it, I know it will ruin me for any other man.

The prickle of his beard on my neck is spine-tingling, and I want to rub my pussy all over it just to feel the delicious burn.

'You're coming home with me.' It's not so much a question but an authoritative statement of facts.

'I need to stay inside you all night, Holly.

I need to sink myself into your heat and know what it feels like when you clench me so tight that you come all over my cock.

I want to bury myself in you and empty everything I have inside your cunt, knowing that tomorrow at work, you'll still be dripping from me.'

Wordlessly under his spell, I unsteadily hop off the stool and guide him back to the parking lot so he can take me to his home.

I'll most definitely thank him for the earrings later.

The ride back to his is pure, agonisingly slow, painful torture.

Plain and simple.

It is hell.

Both of us are too amped up to speak.

While I cool down by adjusting the air conditioner a degree a minute, Chris is speeding well above the limit.

'Pussy cat, get out of the fucking car.' I hadn't realised we'd returned to his in record time.

He doesn't even attempt to get our bags from the back.

Instead, he races to my side and yanks the door open.

Pulling me from the car, he drags me along.

Unlocking the wooden front door, I'm immediately hit with a gust of cinnamon and spices that invade my senses.

It smells like Christmas and Chris.

If I could replicate this scent everywhere in my life, I would.

As I step inside and peel off my coat, Chris beelines to the fireplace, a prominent feature of the living room.

I've never been inside Chris' home, but from where I'm standing, I can see that it is quintessentially Chris — rugged but tidy, dark but sophisticated, and rich and rustic with homely accents that feel warm and inviting.

It's not ostentatious, which you'd expect from a celebrity chocolatier, but it is spacious.

He's spoken about his state-of-the-art kitchen before, so eventually, when we've finished our fuck fest, I'll meander to the kitchen to see for myself.

Needing a minute to calm down, I lean back on the door and unzip my boots, which I place on the floor next to my discarded jacket.

I eye Chris lighting the fireplace and know I'm risking my heart by taking this next step with him.

What started as just mind-numbing orgasms has turned out to be so much more.

I'm a stupid, foolish girl for going where I'm about to go, but every moment I spend with Chris makes me feel like it's Christmas.

I am in a state of pure and utter euphoria.

He's rearranged the logs as if it's his day job, which makes such a masculine task look so easy.

When the match strikes, a faint spark leaps to life before it embeds itself into the kindling.

The dry twigs flame and crackle, adding to the ambiance of the sizzling evening.

The flames grow bolder, going from a soft yellow to a deep, fiery orange.

A brilliant incandescent halo of blue around the edges provides an ethereal contrast, which is just as mesmerising as the man who lit the match.

As the fire crackles and pops, the room slowly fills with a comforting, earthy scent that warms me to my core when mixed in with the aromatic spices.

Once the fire is lit, Chris continues to set up the room for us.

He lays a blanket and pillows on the ground and fiddles with the remote that turns his cinema-sized TV on.

Rooted in the same spot, I watch as this magnificent man makes this evening before us spectacular.

He is so focused.

It's like he knows exactly how he wants everything to be.

I watch his profile as he flicks through his streaming services until he lands on Disney and scrolls through the endless list of movies.

It's not until he reaches the letter 'J' that I know what he's searching for.

My movie, Jingle All The Way.

He presses play, making me squeal like a child who feels as big as a giant sitting high on their father’s shoulders.

'Come here, baby.' He finally calls for me and I can't help but skip to where he is.

I accidentally over-calculate the slipperiness of his floors and skid right into his back, causing him to fall onto the rug.

Landing on top of him, he's winded but laughs.

'Eager, gorgeous?' I smirk down at him as I try to untangle myself.

He holds me in place and makes out with me like we're horny teenagers.

'Wait here.

I have some desserts for us.' Placing me on the rug, he hops up and heads down the hall to where I assume his kitchen is.

I pull the soft shag rug over the top of me as I watch the neighbour Ted decorate Howard's home in Christmas lights.

As much as I love Christmas, even I know that's overstepping.

A depressing nostalgia washes over me as the scene unfolds where Howard tries to approach his son, Jamie, over missing his karate competition.

It used to be the same in my home.

Neither of my parents ever attended parent-teacher interviews or bothered to show up for sports or swimming carnivals.

When it came to anything I did outside of school, they'd often just drop me off and pick me up late.

Luckily, those fleeting thoughts are just that, as I immerse myself in Jamie's joy in asking for a Turbo Man for Christmas.

Seeing the innocent grin makes me feel warm and fuzzy, and I know without a doubt that Chris would have been just like Howard as a parent, who went above and beyond to give Cole whatever he wanted.

Knowing Chris would go to the ends of the earth for his son makes me all warm and gooey inside.

A man who is a fantastic father is a major turn-on.

When Chris eventually comes back, he puts a tray in front of us filled with all the makings for a fantastic fondue that includes marshmallows, strawberries, and milk chocolate.

There is more mulled wine and the option to make our hot chocolate, but I can't decide which one I want.

He's also brought two plates of piping hot pudding.

My favourite.

The smell of brandy makes me drool.

It's sweet but tickles my nose.

I know I'll get the same feeling when I take a bite and it slides down my throat.

Without thinking, I grab the pudding and scoop an extra big piece, shoving it in my mouth.

The bite is complemented by custard, cream jelly and fruits, making my taste buds dance happily.

Moaning around my spoon, Chris looks at me with unbridled heat in his eyes.

'Stop doing that.' I lick the spoon as if I'd lick his cock.

'You're so much trouble,' he grumbles, closing his eyes.

I giggle as he yanks me to sit in between his legs, my head on his chest.

Together, we laugh hysterically through movie scenes while devouring the spread before us.

About two-thirds of the way through, I can't seem to focus on Arnold Schwarzenegger with Chris' arms wrapped around my tummy.

His protective, masculine hold has me tingling to the core.

My ass is numb with pins and needles from sitting for too long, but what I really want is to feel something else in my ass, and the only way I know how to move this along is if I squirm.

As I push up against him, I'm delirious.

Mmm, his long, thick manhood is solid behind me.

Those same hands that were hugging the stuffing out of me now work their way underneath my clothes.

I discarded my stockings earlier, but there were still plenty of layers he can unwrap.

He squeezes my right breast with his left hand, his thumb stroking my ripened nipple, while his right hand feels the drenched material between my legs.

The groan that emanates from Chris is pure sex, and I'm not quite sure how I'll ever be able to live without it.

'Christ, honey, you're already soaked.' He kisses the crevice of my neck, making me arch into him.

I'm feverish from our incredible date.

Being in his home.

The fire.

And most of all, him.

How can I ever let this man go?

'Sweetheart?' He whispers before returning to lavishing and biting my neck.

God, I hope he leaves a mark.

I want to see him on me all week.

'Hmm.' I'm not even remotely paying attention while his lips and hands do sinful things to my body.

'Get naked now.' Three words have me trembling, which doesn't bode well for his command because I'm having trouble doing the simple tasks he's asked of me.

I eventually wiggle out of my skirt while he pulls my turtle neck over my head.

'Fuck.

Me.' He can't see the front of my lingerie, but I know that's what he's groaning about, which makes my lips curve in victory.

It's just the reaction I want from him.

As his hands skate the plains of my body, I revel in driving him just as mad as he drives me.

'On second thought, leave the lingerie on.'

'Chris?' 'Yeah, sweetness.'

'Can you get naked too?' I sound like a wanton slut.

He holds so much power over me, it’s as if I’m hypnotised.

I roll my head in his neck, feeling his smile before he chuckles.

'Yeah, gorgeous.

I can.' I scoot away from him and lay back leisurely, legs spread while I watch him strip.

Long gone is the shy girl that works for this man, and in her place is this horny mess of a woman who wants nothing more than Chris' cock penetrating deep inside every hole.

I rearrange the pillows behind my head so I have a prime view, and with my fingers, I skim the silk between my legs until I find my swollen clit.

First, he removes his flannel, then his shirt, then his wifebeater, which is sexy as fuck, but I'm glad when he flings it somewhere far away because his drool-worthy torso is now on display.

The salt and pepper happy trail leads to his bulging erection.

I am laser-focused on his hands unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans and sliding them down his tree-trunk thighs.

My fingers increase their pace when I see he has gone commando.

'Ready for me, babycakes?' I whimper and nod, wondering what he's going to do to me first.

Falling to his knees, he wrenches my thighs apart.

I can clearly see that I am the lamb, and he is most definitely the big bad wolf.

'I believe you're touching what's mine.' He raises one eyebrow at me as I quickly remove my fingers.

Bending down, I feel his breath right before he throws my legs over his shoulders and buries his face in my pussy.

My body jerks in response as I let out a high-pitched mew.

Oh God, that beard.

Yes.

Yes.

So much fucking YES! The lewd sounds he makes are raw, hungry, hedonistic, animalistic — insatiable.

My head rolls back and forth as he thrusts into me over and over until I'm screaming out his name.

We have all night to devour each other, but we're frantic and urgent in the same breath and can't help but ravish one another.

There's Christmas pudding in places where Christmas pudding should never be, and I've come on his tongue twice.

His beard looks as if it needs to be wrung out, but my brain is fried as he feeds me his cock for entree, main, and dessert.

After swallowing the last of his cum, I collapse on his chest.

I'm relatively sure I won't be able to survive the rest of the night with how much pleasure has been plucked and fucked out of my body.

Goosebumps scatter across my spine as his fingers softly stroke my exposed skin.

I curl into him further, running my own fingertips over his nipples.

This right here is heaven.

Tilting my head, I brush my lips against his.

I hope he feels how much I want him — and not just physically.

Returning my affection, he rolls me onto my back and hovers over me.

He is heart-stoppingly handsome, and I feel undeserving of how he looks at me.

It is like I'm a miracle.

His miracle.

He leans his elbows close to my head and settles between my thighs.

I feel his thick arousal right at my entrance, hoping he'll put me out of my misery and just push into me.

Seconds fly by, and neither of us moves.

I'm wonderstruck by him.

'You are so goddamn beautiful, Holly.' My eyes go glossy at his words as I stare into his warm honey eyes.

They mean so much to me.

He means so much to me.

I've fought my feelings for him on every level, but I can't hide them anymore.

I know that on a cellular level, this is right.

We are right.

I love him.

I'm in love with my ex-boyfriend's father.

Chris' lips skim mine as he guides himself into me.

He watches my face for any discomfort, but there's none.

I feel pure bliss.

As he thrusts into me, it's slow and gentle, and my world tips on an axis as I adjust to his size.

We both stare at each other and shudder when he bottoms out.

My legs coil around his back, making sure his cock is embedded inside me to the hilt.

'You feel like heaven, angel.' I don't get a chance to respond as he brushes his nose against mine before his tongue seeks my mouth.

I lift my head to intensify our kiss.

I need him more than air at this moment.

In a haze of moans and groans and fast pants, he speeds up, going faster and faster, all while I clench around him.

'You feel so good, Chris,' I whimper, wrapping my arms around him and closing any remaining centimetres between us.

Melting into him, I lock my legs across his ass.

'How good, baby? Tell me how much you want my dick inside you,' he punctuates cheekily as he thrusts into me over and over.

'Always,' I chant as I strain under him, feeling every ridge and curve.

He's so deep, it's more than possible he's hitting my cervix.

It's the most raw and delicious exquisiteness I've ever felt.

'Keep doing that…' I'm sure I'm paralytic at what he's doing to me.

My head tilts back on the pillow as he drives into me.

Chris' mouth latches onto my exposed neck, leaving his mark on me.

I relish the thought of having him on my skin for days to come.

Needing his lips back on mine, I pull him toward my mouth and alternate between kissing and pulling back so I can watch every emotion flicker across his face.

Hunger.

Want. Need.

I feel every inch of it through my body as he makes deep, long strokes.

'Feel that, sweetheart?' I'm hypnotised by him as I nod.

'Feel how deep I am, inside your tight, little pussy?' Nodding again, I'm completely and irrevocably under his spell.

'Feel how much I belong inside you?' He thrusts again, the itch of his pubic area hitting my clit.

'Feel how deranged you make me? How I fucking need to be inside you?' His arms shake as he grinds into me.

His words and seeing the cords and strain of his neck as he climbs higher and higher, as well as the sheen of sweat glistening on his skin, are enough to tip me over the edge.

Before I know it, I'm soaring.

'Chris!' I don't recognise the shriek that tears through me.

'That's it, precious, come on me, come on my cock, squeeze me.' His feral grunt of command only makes me buck more wildly.

I pull at his hair and claw at his back.

His hands were braced near my head while pounding into me, but now one has found its way to my clit.

Pressing down, he rubs in tight circles, making me scream.

'More,' I chant, clutching him.

He sloppily covers my mouth again to steal my moans, his pace gaining even more momentum as he tips over the edge with me.

With a roar, he shakes inside me until he stills.

When the last of him spills into me, he sinks back down onto my body.

The feel of his hot cum spurting deep inside me, making me all warm and creamy is like nothing I've ever felt before.

I've never raw dogged it or had someone bare, but with Chris, I want nothing between us.

No barriers.

He pulses inside me, shocking little seizures up and down my body.

Breathless, I leisurely stroke his back, threading my fingers through the hair at the base of his neck.

I love how he feels on top of me.

As he presses soft kisses along my throat and neck, I feel complete.

When he's done lavishing me, he rolls onto his back and pulls me half on top of him.

'You're incredible, Holly.' I sigh at his words, bathing in his affection for me.

Sometime later, we meander to his giant bathtub and take a peppermint bubble bath together.

I've never had a more amazing evening in my life.

Tonight.

The way he made me feel.

What we did will go down as one of the greatest days of my existence.