The Christmas Trap #2
I pulled the shirt over my head and tossed it aside, leaving me in nothing but the socks. The cool air hit my skin, pebbling my nipples, but Teddy’s gaze was hot enough to keep me warm.
I felt powerful. Alive. Like I could do and say anything without fear of him judging or thinking less of me. This was what I’d needed—the freedom to be shameless. To want without apology.
“Well,” I began, leaning in close enough that my breath ghosted across his lips. “First, I want you to come down my chimney.”
He barked out a sharp, startled laugh before catching himself. “I see,” he managed through twitching lips. “Go on.”
“Then, I want you to stuff my stocking.” I punctuated the words by grinding against his erection and licking a line up his throat to his beard. “Stuff it so full there’s no room left for anything else. Until it’s overflowing.”
The growl that rumbled through his chest went straight between my legs. “Keep talking like that, and Santa’s gonna give you everything on your list,” he rasped, his hands already moving to cup my breasts. “Even if you have been on the naughty list since 1989.”
I could hear Bing and the gang singing “Snow” as they took the train to Vermont. But I wasn’t dreaming of snow. I was dreaming of Teddy—of his hands on my body, his mouth on my skin, his voice in my ear telling me all the filthy things he wanted to do to me.
“Fucking soaking my jeans,” he murmured, showing me the dark patch I’d left. “Getting yourself all nice and wet for me.”
I’d never had a problem in that area, although I’d expected it to go the other way during menopause. Given the hell my faulty reproductive organs had put me through for decades, I’d earned the reprieve.
“What else is on that list?” he prompted, rolling one nipple between his thumb and forefinger before brushing my hair back to take the other in his mouth.
Pleasure flooded my body, making my thoughts hazy and hard to grasp, but I fought through the fog to moan, “Want you to jingle my bells… all the way. Really make ‘em ring.”
“Christ, it just keeps getting worse,” Teddy muttered with a low chuckle, sliding his fingers between my legs. “And no panties? Santa’s gonna have to keep you on the naughty list for sure.”
“Good.” I gasped when his thumb found my clit, my forehead dropping to his shoulder. He worked me with steady, deliberate pressure, knowing exactly how to touch me—the speed, the angle. An art form he’d perfected over thirty years.
“That everything on your list?”
“No. Want you to—oh God—make it a not-so-silent night,” I gasped out, my thighs starting to shake. “And hang your—your ornament on my—”
I couldn’t finish. His fingers slipped inside me, one at first, then two, stretching me in a way that made my eyes roll back.
I was already close, embarrassingly so. But I didn’t care. Didn’t care that I was grinding against him like a teenager in heat, didn’t care that I was spouting increasingly ridiculous Christmas euphemisms, didn’t care about anything except the way his fingers felt as they worked me over.
“That’s it, baby,” he praised, his voice like gravel. “Look at you, riding my hand, begging for it. You gonna show Santa what a naughty girl you’ve been?”
I nodded frantically, beyond words now, just sensation and heat and the coiling pressure building low in my belly.
His free hand came up to cup the back of my neck, pulling me down for a kiss. “Let me hear you.”
I bit my lip, trying to stay quiet because old habits die hard and some part of me still worried about being too loud, too needy, too much. But then his hand slid up to tangle in my hair, tugging gently until I met his eyes.
“Said, let me hear you, Kels,” he repeated, his expression making it clear it wasn’t a request.
“Yes,” I whimpered, chanting and moaning the word on repeat.
“Then take it,” he commanded, adding a third finger and curling them just right while his thumb maintained pressure on my clit.
My movements became erratic. “Teddy, I’m—oh fuck, I’m—”
“Yeah? You gonna come all over my hand like a good girl? Show me, baby.”
That did it. I came with a breathless sob, my body clenching and pulsing around his fingers.
Teddy’s mouth moved over my temple, my cheek, my jaw, drawing out the orgasm until I was shaking and oversensitive, and clinging to his shoulders to keep myself upright.
He withdrew his fingers slowly, bringing them to his mouth and sucking them clean. “There’s one item off your list. What else you want, baby?”
I pulled back enough to meet his eyes—the man who’d been my husband, my ex-husband, and was now somehow both and neither, something new we were still figuring out—and felt something shift low in my belly.
A warmth that had nothing to do with the orgasm I’d just had, and everything to do with the way he was looking at me.
“You,” I whispered shakily, reaching between us to free him from his jeans. “Just you.”
His dick sprang free, thick and hard and already leaking at the tip. “You’ve got me, Kels.”
I wrapped my hand around him, stroking once, twice. “Wanna take a ride on your Polar Express.”
That startled another laugh out of him as well as a raised brow. “Polar Express? Really?”
“Would you prefer candy cane?” I rose up on my knees and positioned myself over him, teasing us both by dragging the head of his cock through my wetness. “Because that implies a curve that might be concerning. Might need to see a doct—”
“Just shut up and ride me,” he growled.
I exhaled roughly as he bucked his hips, pushing the blunt head of his dick past my entrance. Beads of sweat formed on his furrowed brow as he eased me down, inch by torturous inch.
It took some effort to accommodate him. Some things never changed, no matter how many decades we’d been doing this.
His mouth fell open slightly, and a low groan escaped—the kind of sound that made me clench around him involuntarily.
Teddy leaned forward to suck a puckered nipple between his teeth, the sudden change in position forcing him even deeper.
I hissed out a curse when he bottomed out, clutching his head to my breast. For a long moment, neither of us moved while my body adjusted to the stretch.
“Wait, Kels,” he groaned against my skin, the vein in his neck visibly pulsing. “Trying not to come.”
I’d never been one for porn, but if I had, I doubted any video could compete with the sight of a man like Teddy fighting not to come undone beneath me.
There was something addicting about having that much control over a man so wild and famously ungovernable—something that made me want to push him to his breaking point. Just to see if I could.
I tightened around him again, enjoying the way his breath hitched, and his eyes rolled back in his skull.
“Fuck,” he muttered, sinking his teeth into the sensitive flesh of my throat.
Goosebumps spread across my skin, and I braced my hands against his chest with a shiver before rocking against him. I fought a smile as the slow, sensual grind of my hips drew another sharp inhale from him.
“You good, baby?” I asked innocently, continuing to torment him. “Comfortable?”
“Could be on a bed of nails, and I doubt I’d notice. You feel so goddamn good,” he growled, before tugging my mouth down to meet his in a rough kiss.
“Think we should probably avoid any more hard surfaces for the time being,” I said, sucking in a ragged breath when his thumbs brushed over my nipples, making me arch into his touch. “My back is still achy from the kitchen island.”
“But the look on your face when you came that first time—fuck, I’ll be thinking about that for years.”
“Mm… what else will you be thinking about?” I asked, lifting my hips until just the head of his cock remained inside before taking him deep again.
“This,” he said, his eyes tracking the bounce of my breasts. “You taking what you want. Not holding back. Looking at me—just like that—like I’m yours.”
“You are mine, Riggs,” I said fiercely, surprising myself with the possessiveness in my voice.
He pushed up into me with a barely restrained growl. “What about you, Kels? What’s going through that pretty head?”
“Mm, I’m trying to remember if there’s still some of the potato casserole left in the fridge,” I panted as we moved together in a rhythm that felt more like dancing than sex. “Or did we finish it all last night?”
Teddy’s hips faltered, and he barked out an incredulous laugh. “Seriously? You’re thinking about food right now?”
“What? I’m—” I trailed off when he hit a particularly good angle. “I’m hungry. A growing girl needs to eat.”
“Growing girl?” he questioned through gritted teeth. “Baby, you’re the same—fuck, do that again—the same height you were in high school.”
“No, horizontally, I mean.” I gestured to my hips and thighs, which had expanded over the years.
“Good. Gives me more to hold onto,” Teddy grunted, giving both a rough squeeze before reaching forward to snag a gingerbread cookie from the plate on the coffee table. He broke a piece off and held it to my lips. “This oughta tide you over for a bit. Open.”
I took a bite, chewing while watching me with an expression that suggested he couldn’t quite believe this was his life now.
“Good?” he asked, pushing his index finger past my lips as he offered me another bite.
“So good,” I said, swirling my tongue around the digit, tasting myself as much as the spices. “Can’t believe we never brought food into the bedroom when we were married.”
“This some long-unfulfilled fantasy for you, Kels—riding my dick while I feed you gingerbread?”
I chuckled. “Absolutely not. Old Kelsey would have had a coronary. Crumbs in the bed… cookies for dinner? The horror.”
“Old Kelsey was wound tighter than an eight-day clock,” Teddy dryly stated as he brushed crumbs off my lip.
“She was exhausting,” I agreed. “And frankly, kind of a pain in the ass.”
“Nah, you were doing your best.”
“Was I though?” The question came out lighter than I intended. “Or was I just... performing? Like everything had to be Pinterest-perfect or the world would end?”
“You were trying to hold us together,” he said quietly. “Only way you knew how.”