Epilogue #2
I’m too wrung out to respond, so I just nuzzle closer into his chest. We sit like that for a long moment, the room growing darker, lit only by the lights of the tree.
Eventually, I’m steady enough to pull back and look up at him.
The tender expression on his face makes it hard to breathe all over again.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, eyes dark with emotion. “I can’t believe you’re actually here. I can’t believe you’re real.”
I slip my arms around his neck and pull him down for a kiss. “I’ll always be here,” I promise him. “As long as you’ll have me.”
“Then be prepared to never leave,” he says. Our gazes lock and I can see the reflection of twinkling lights from the tree in his eyes. “I love you, Noelle.”
My heart seems to stop, tears immediately coming to my eyes. His expression shifts to panic. “What’s wrong? What did I—”
I put a finger over his mouth, shaking my head. It takes a moment for me to compose myself. “No one has told me that for a very long time.”
Sadness and understanding wash over his face. “I should have said it earlier. I’ve felt it for so long.” He gives me a sheepish smile. “I’m not always great with words. Or the whole romance thing.”
I shake my head. “Are you kidding? You showed up with a Christmas tree and told me you wanted to make our own tradition. That’s insanely romantic.”
His eyes glint down at me. “Yes, but then I fucked the hell out of you with a candy cane dildo.”
I burst out laughing, the sound abruptly cutting off when he kisses me again. “I love making you laugh,” he says, voice dropping with intensity. “Fuck, Noelle, I love you so much.”
“I love you, too.” I nip his chin. “Since we’ve already established that our Christmas tree tradition includes sex…” I let my voice trail off as my hand drifts toward the rock-hard shaft pressing against my outer thigh.
His jaw tightens. “I’m trying to give you a minute to recover,” he growls. “But don’t push me. I find you impossible to resist, angel.” Then he’s kissing me again, his tongue plundering my mouth, stealing my breath.
When we finally come up for air, I ask him a question I’ve been meaning to since we met. “Why do you call me angel?”
He looks confused by the question. “Because that’s what you are. An angel.” His mouth moves to my jaw, my neck, his kisses hot against my skin. “Good and kind and pure.”
I try to scoff, but end up making a breathless noise instead, too affected by his lips. “Pure? You do know that you met me working at a sex club, right.”
He lifts his head and I kind of wish I hadn’t said anything—I’m not ready for him to stop doing what he was doing with his mouth.
“Pure doesn’t have anything to do with sex, Noelle. I mean that your heart is pure. Free from anger or bitterness. You’re filled with the brightest light. Your soul is even more beautiful than your face—it overwhelms me.”
“Wow,” I whisper, ducking my head so he doesn’t see my eyes get wet again—he clearly didn’t like to see me cry before.
“That’s why I call you angel,” he continues, kissing the top of my head and inhaling deep, like he’s breathing me in. “My sweet Christmas angel.”
Since he’s got me on the verge of full out sobbing with all the lovely things he’s saying, I decide it’s time to shift back to playful. So I look up at him and smirk, batting my eyelashes. “A Christmas angel, huh? Are you going to put me on top of your tree?”
Mischief glints in his stormy blue irises. “I’ll put you on top of something,” he growls, and I squeal when he lifts me suddenly, rearranging me so my thighs are straddling him. My already over-sensitive center brushes against the erection behind his sweatpants and I moan.
Roman’s hands grip my hips, fingers digging into the flesh. Just like that he seems to be on the edge of his control, ready to consume me. I love the way this man can go from sweet to dominating in the blink of an eye.
“Take me out,” he orders and I hurry to comply, wanting nothing more than to get my hands on his hard length.
He doesn’t give me much time to play, though. The second after I pull his throbbing dick from his sweatpants he’s lifting me, lining himself up. Then those strong hands push my hips down onto him, forcing me to take his entire length.
“So fucking perfect,” he groans, already thrusting up into me, again and again. “My perfect girl.”
He doesn’t take his time. He fucks into me hard and fast, chasing his own pleasure, and all I can do is hang on. I figure I’ve already come nearly half a dozen times and there’s no way it’s going to happen again.
Roman, of course, isn’t having that.
“Touch yourself,” he demands in his growly Dom voice. “I want to feel you come on my dick.”
My fingers go to my clit and I can’t help but think of all the times he watched me do this before. How good he could make me feel even from far away, just by hearing his voice. Just by knowing he was watching. Before this week, I’d lived for those nights, wanting so badly to have any part of him.
But this is so much better. Because there’s no distance now. He’s warm and solid under me, touching me, bringing me to the highest levels of pleasure with his body. He’s not behind a glass wall—he’s here. And he’s mine.
Overwhelmed by how far we’ve come, I take his face between my palms. He immediately slows the snapping of his hips, eyes locking with mine.
“Merry Christmas, Roman,” I whisper.
He smiles at me like I’ve made every one of his dreams come true. “Merry Christmas, angel.”
The End