Chapter 9
9
LIV
C hristmas Eve is just a day away, and the air is thick with excitement and anticipation. But if I’m being totally honest, the festive cheer has nothing on what Dylan and I have been stirring up. Ever since we first got together, it’s like we’ve unleashed some insatiable hunger in each other. Every stolen glance is a promise, every touch a prelude to our next tryst. We’ve been at each other like bunnies, and it’s been absolutely heavenly.
“Got the tickets. You ready?” Dylan asks, his sparkling green eyes lighting up like the holiday displays around us. The historic downtown theater is running its annual screening of National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation , and somehow, amidst the frenzy, we’ve decided to make a date of it.
“Can’t say no to a bit of holiday family dysfunction,” I reply, chuckling as we join the line of patrons trickling into the old theater. Its walls are adorned with red velvet and gold garlands, giving off that timeless charm that makes you feel like you’re stepping back into a simpler era.
I should be focused on Chevy Chase’s antics. Instead, my thoughts drift to the man next to me. Dylan—with his sandy- blond hair and muscular build that his simple sweater can’t hide—has a way of making my heart race without even trying. The movie rolls on and laughter fills the air, but all I can think about is touching him. It’s becoming a delicious kind of madness.
“Hey,” he whispers while leaning close. His breath is warm against my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “Need a bathroom break?”
“No, I’m good,” I reply before tossing more popcorn into my mouth.
“I think a break would be a good idea.”
I glance in his direction, and the mischievous glint in Dylan’s eyes tells me it isn’t nature calling. I nod, feeling a rush of heat wash over me while I try to hide my giddiness.
We rise from our seats, casual as can be, and stroll out to the lobby. I can feel the pulse of excitement thrumming between us as we walk hand in hand, pretending this is the most normal thing in the world.
But nothing about us is normal. Not really. We’re fire and gasoline, the former stepsiblings who aren’t supposed to burn so bright when they’re together. Yet, here we are. And the sex is hot enough to melt the North Pole.
We sneak off to the family restroom at the back of the building. As soon as the door shuts behind us, Dylan locks it and he’s on me in an instant. My back hits the cool tile wall, and any pretense of restraint vanishes. His lips find mine with an urgency that matches my own—a deep, searing kiss that speaks of all the times we’ve been together since that first night.
“God, I can’t get enough of you,” he murmurs, his voice husky with need.
“Good,” I manage between kisses. “Because I don’t want you to stop.”
Our passion is an entity of its own, a testament to the raw connection that defies all the rules. Outside, the movie plays on, forgotten by two people lost in their own private world. It’s reckless and maybe a little crazy, but as our hands explore and claim each other’s bodies, I know one thing is for certain: This is the best damn Christmas I’ve ever experienced.
The dishes clink and the scent of sizzling bacon wafts up the stairs, nudging me awake. I blink away the remnants of sleep, my gaze settling on Dylan’s bare back as he dresses in the dim morning light. A playful grin spreads across his lips when he catches me.
“Morning, beautiful,” he whispers, leaning in for a quick kiss that promises more. “You were supposed to go to your room.”
“Guess I was naughty. Is Santa gonna spank me?” I roll onto my stomach and slightly pop my naked ass into the air.
Dylan groans and grabs a handful of my plump flesh, giving it a subtle shake. “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you? Or do you just like the possibility of getting caught?”
“Both,” I say, shimmying my hips to make my ass cheeks jiggle.
“Then we better make this quick.” His eyes glitter as his lips curl into a devilish grin.
In one fluid motion, he crawls over my body with his hard cock pressed between us. He turns my head to seal our mouths together, and urgency takes over us. There’s no time for slow exploration this morning. This is about seizing the moment before my mom catches us. So every movement we make is fast and fervent.
He instructs me to lift my hips before shoving a fluffy pillow beneath me. Then he raises my arms above my head and demands that I leave them there with my face pressed against the mattress. I arch my back and spread my thighs, allowing him better access to my pussy. And Dylan wastes no time finding my entrance and driving his long, thick cock deep inside me.
“God, Liv,” he breathes out as we move together. Every touch is electric, every whisper a secret pact between us. “Your pussy feels so fucking good.”
“Faster,” I plead, loving the blissful sensations I’m experiencing in this position. He’s fucking me deep while rubbing against my G-spot, and I know it won’t be long before I come.
“I wish I could spend all day fucking your tight cunt,” he whispers before groaning in my ear. “But we better get downstairs before your mom comes looking for us.”
I know he’s right, but I don’t want this to end.
Dylan reaches around me and finds my throbbing clit, playing the swollen bundle of nerves like a familiar instrument. “You close, baby? I need you to come for me.”
I’m barely hanging on as he hammers his cock into my pussy. “Don’t pull out this time,” I pant on a moan.
“What?” His tone is laced with shock and lust.
“I wanna feel you come inside me.”
“You sure, baby?” He rolls his hips, hitting all the right spots and making my eyes roll back in my head.
“Please,” I beg. “I need you.”
“Fuck, I like it when you say that.”
His thrusts become harder and deeper and faster as sweat surfaces on my back. My stomach trembles and my core clenches while my muscles begin to milk his cock. And just like that, we’re coming together, spurts of his hot cum filling me up as he wraps his hand over my mouth to stifle my moans.
We’re both struggling to catch our breath when he whispers in my ear. “I wish we could stay like this, but we better get up.”
I nod, unable to speak while coming down from my high. But I groan when I feel him withdraw from me, missing the sensation of being filled with his dick.
He bends down to take my mouth in an affectionate kiss. “Hurry up, baby. I’ll meet you downstairs.”
The savory aroma of Mom’s famous pot roast fills the cozy breakfast nook off the side of the kitchen. We have a formal dining room big enough to seat twelve, but we rarely use it. Not since Mom was married to Bruce. I like this better anyway. It feels homier and more welcoming, the way Christmas Eve should be.
I keep stealing glances at Dylan, at his chiseled jawline and captivating green eyes. He’s so ruggedly handsome it almost hurts, and I’m desperate to feel his hands on my body again.
“I’ll need to be up at the crack of dawn to start on tomorrow’s feast,” Mom announces across the dinner table, breaking my Dylan-induced trance.
“Need any help?” I offer, feeling a twinge of guilt about her having to wake up so early.
She waves me off with a smile. “Oh, honey, I’ve been prepping all week. I’ve got this down to a science. You just enjoy a lazy morning. I’ll have my special Christmas quiche ready for you guys when you wake up.”
“And sausage balls?” My eyebrows lift and a wide grin covers my face.
“And sausage balls,” Mom confirms with a smile.
“What are sausage balls?” Dylan asks, wiping his mouth on his napkin.
“They’re little, yummy nuggets of breakfast sausage and cheddar cheese. I could eat my weight in them.” I’m practically drooling just thinking about my favorite breakfast food.
“And here I thought I’d experienced some of the finest meals the world has to offer. But all the five-star restaurants I’ve ever visited have nothing on the meals I’ve sampled this week.” He winks at my mom and she blushes. Actually blushes.
“Oh, it’s nothing.” Mom is being modest but she truly is a wonderful cook. “Most of these recipes have been handed down to me, but I’ve added some of my own over the years. And they’ve become part of our holiday traditions. It wouldn’t feel like Christmas without them.”
Mom and I share a look as we recall happy memories of all our past holidays together. Then I feel Dylan’s warm, heavy palm resting on my thigh beneath the table, and I give him a sympathetic smile, hating that he’s missed out on creating memories like this.
“Speaking of tomorrow…” Mom changes the subject, her tone much more hesitant now. “Should we invite Bruce to join us for dinner?”
Dylan instantly tenses beside me, his jaw clenching ever so slightly. “I’d be surprised if he’s even in town,” he replies, his voice remaining neutral. “He’s probably off on some island with his gold-digger of the month.”
Mom’s face falls, a shadow of hurt flickering across her elegant features. I know she’s thinking about her own painful history with Bruce. But just as quickly, her expression softens as she looks at Dylan sitting next to me.
“Well, I’m glad you could join us for the holidays, sweetie. You’re always welcome in our home.” She reaches over and rests her hand over his.
I feel his other hand find mine under the table, and he laces our fingers together, making my heart flutter.
“It’s nice to have someone to spend Christmas with.” He smiles back at Mom while giving my palm a gentle squeeze.
I fight the urge to lean over and kiss him right here at the table, but I’m hyper-aware of our audience. Then I glance at Dylan and catch the promise of something sinful shimmering in those sea-green depths of his. Suddenly, Christmas morning can’t come soon enough.