Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Jenna
I start a Christmas movie when we sit down to eat our pizza, but neither of us pay attention to it, talking through the whole thing about everything from the best and worst pizza we’ve ever had—this frozen pizza definitely skewing toward the lower end of the scale but definitely not the worst ever—to our family’s Christmas traditions growing up.
He, as he mentioned, has always done the Christmas PJs on Christmas Eve thing.
“My mom and dad always let my sister and I open one thing. But they got to pick what it was, which always felt monumentally unfair to me. I mean, they were my presents. Shouldn’t I have gotten to choose which one I wanted to open?”
Chewing his pizza, he surveys me, then wipes his mouth with a napkin.
“From the kid’s perspective, I totally get where you’re coming from.
But from the parents’ side, I get it too.
If you’ve gotten this big thing your kid really wants, don’t you want to experience that on the magic of Christmas morning?
And also, if the kid gets something they’re super excited about, what are the odds they’re going to go to sleep quickly or easily?
Instead, they’ll be all hyped up about the present, and then you’ll have to stay up exponentially later—on a night it’s already difficult to get kids to go to sleep—to finish putting together whatever last minute presents still need to be assembled. ”
I consider that for a moment. “Okay. I guess that’s a good point. I haven’t ever had to play Santa for anyone, really, so I can’t say I know what that’s like.”
He grins. “It’s pretty fun, honestly. Colin’s so cute about it.
He read something last year about leaving carrots out for the reindeer—because cookies aren’t good for them.
So we put out a handful of baby carrots along with the cookies and milk last year.
” His face grows thoughtful. “I wonder if he’ll want to do that at my house this year even though he’s staying at his mom’s that night,” he murmurs softly.
“We could ask,” I offer. “Before he leaves. You could ask if he wants to leave out cookies at your place too.”
Aaron’s eyes refocus on me, and he smiles softly. “Yeah. That’s a good idea. I think I’ll do that. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” It’s clear to me that regardless of his talk about how he’ll be fine, that it’s good for Colin to get to do this with his mom—and I’m sure it’s all true—this Christmas will be a tough one for Aaron.
I can’t say I blame him. Colin’s still young enough to want to do all those traditions like open PJs on Christmas Eve and leave out cookies for Santa.
Honestly, it might be a little tough for Colin too, since he’s used to doing all those things with his dad.
Establishing new traditions with his mom, especially when he’ll only do them every other year, might be hard on a little kid.
Having some touchstone things at both houses to get him through the transition seems like a good idea to me.
After we finish our pizza, Aaron moves closer to me on the couch. Smiling, I inch closer to him as well. “Thank you for inviting me over,” he says quietly, rubbing my leg.
“Thanks for coming. You’d think after being surrounded by people at the ChristmasFest all day, I would relish coming home to a quiet apartment. And sometimes I do, but …” I shake my head. “Mostly it just feels too quiet. Too empty. Too lonely. I’m glad you’re here.”
Smiling, he reaches his arm around me and tugs me closer. “That’s how my house would be tonight too. This is much better.”
I hum my agreement, leaning in at his urging to kiss him. “Much,” I whisper against his mouth.
The kiss quickly turns heated, both of us happy to finally be able to give in to the desire to do more than exchange quick, chaste pecks.
He pulls me onto his lap so I’m sitting sideways, his hand supporting the back of my head as he kisses me deeply.
I cling to him, letting him sweep me away in his kisses, happy to lie back when he shifts sideways so I’m lying on the couch and he’s hovering above me.
“Why don’t we move this to the bedroom,” I whisper on a gasp when he nips at my ear.
He makes a rumbly sound deep in his chest, then sits up, pulling me up with him. When he climbs off the couch, he leans down and scoops me up in his arms.
I let out a whoop of surprise. I know he carried me to my room the day we went sledding, but it was a surprise then too. I don’t know when the last time anyone picked me up before that was. Probably one of my parents when I was a kid.
Aaron grins at me. “Is this okay?”
With my arms around his neck, I can feel the muscles in his shoulder and arms, hard and flexed, but he’s not shaking under the strain of carrying me. “As long as you’re okay, then yeah.”
“I’m great.” He carries me to my bedroom, depositing me gently on the bed before climbing on with me. He settles between my thighs, and I welcome him there, loving the weight of him pressing into me, the way he wraps his arms around me, the brush of his beard against my skin as he kisses me.
There’s no need for conversation now. All our communication has moved to gesture, action, and meaningful looks. Kisses. Hands. Lips, teeth, and tongues.
Soon, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small strip of condoms, setting it on the bedside table before taking off his clothes, mine following close behind, and tossed carelessly around the room.
He kisses me some more, starting at my mouth but peppering kisses down my body, pausing to lavish attention on my nipples before tracing a path down my torso. He drags his lips across my skin from hip to hip, and I’m dying for him to touch me more.
Sliding a hand beneath me, he grips my ass, his thumb running so close to where I’m aching for him that I nearly whimper.
Finally, finally, he slides his other hand over my center, and I let out a shuddering breath at the contact. It’s nowhere near enough, but it’s something. And at this point, I’m grateful for that.
He does it again, gently stroking me with his fingers, watching me intently with every pass.
I settle into the slow rhythm of his fingers stroking me, his lips kissing my inner thigh, and then he lets one finger part me, sliding just inside my opening before coming back out.
On the next pass, he does it again, but this time he turns his hand over, his finger fully entering me.
I gasp, grateful. “More,” I whisper.
In response, he slides his finger out. This time I do whimper, but he doesn’t make me wait long, a second finger joining the first, and I love the slight stretch.
Still not enough, but it’s so much more than what he was giving me.
All that anticipation has built up to the point that any increase in sensation is exquisite.
Curling his fingers, he finds my G-spot, and the effect is electric. My whole body jolts, and he relaxes his fingers, pressing gently, rhythmically in that place.
And then …
Dear, sweet baby Jesus, he licks me.
Softly. Slowly. His tongue tracing a short path from where his fingers are inside me up and around my clit and then back down.
He does this over and over before finally focusing entirely on my clit.
Between the buildup, his fingers on my G-spot, and his tongue on my clit, I detonate in almost no time, my orgasm rolling over me in waves that leave my muscles trembling.
I almost want to sob when he withdraws his fingers, wiping his face with his free hand as he rises up over me, a self-satisfied smile on his face.
He kisses my shoulder and my neck until I cup his face and bring his mouth to mine, the slightly salty tang of my taste still on his tongue.
Settling over me, his hard cock presses into my belly, and I’m sure he must be dying, but he barely even flexes into me, just staying with me for several moments until I start undulating beneath him.
Lifting his head, he meets my eyes. “Ready for more?”
“Yes,” I whisper, my voice as husky as his.
He reaches for the condoms, opening the package as he sits back on his heels before rolling it on.
I reach for him, stroking him a few times.
His hand engulfs mine, making my fingers squeeze him tighter as he shows me what he likes.
But I only stroke a few more times before he’s shaking his head and gently tugging my hand away.
“I don’t wanna finish with a hand job,” he murmurs, leaning back over me and settling between my thighs once more.
This time, the ridge of his dick rests snugly against my clit, and when he rocks his hips, it rubs perfectly against me.
And like last time, he does that until my arousal has spiked again before pulling back far enough that he slides inside me.
I watch his face as he enters me, the way his eyes go wide for a second at the sensation and then relax in pleasure.
That might be my new favorite expression of his.
But he makes it even better when he looks at me with wonder and whispers, “God, you’re perfect.”
Before I can say anything he kisses me. And once he starts moving, all words leave me.
He starts off slow, the drag and push almost torturous in the best way. He hooks a hand under my knee, pulling my leg up to his hip, opening me further and picking up the pace at the same time.
He feels so good inside me. I didn’t think I could come more than once, but if he keeps this up long enough, I might …
Releasing his hold on my leg, he licks his thumb, then slides his hand between us, strumming my clit, and oh, god. Maybe he won’t have to take long for me to get there a second time.
He shifts somehow, changing the angle of his hips, and when he presses inside me again, that same electric pulse from before hits me. He found my G-spot again. And with his thumb strumming my clit and his dick getting me from the inside, I’m lost.
Another orgasm rolls over me, and he moves faster, keeping it going.
When I’m starting to come down the other side, he takes his hand out from between us, wrapping me up in his arms and holding me tightly against his chest as he lets go, his hips moving of their own accord until he stiffens in my arms, pulsing inside me.
We lay like that for a beautiful moment frozen in time, arms wrapped around each other, his head buried in my shoulder, him embedded so far inside me that it’s hard to tell where he ends and I begin, our hearts pounding in unison.
When I trail a hand down his back, stroking him gently, he lifts his head and kisses me. We both take deep breaths, and he starts to peel himself away from me.
I must make some kind of sound of protest because he flashes me a smile, grabbing a handful of tissues from my side table that he wraps the condom in, tossing it in the wastebasket by my bed before settling back behind me, wrapping me in his arms and tugging my blanket up and over us both.