Chapter 21
Garrett
For the second day in a row, I wake up with a hard cock and a handful of warm, sleepy tit.
Ah fuck, I think, immediately followed by, she feels so good, though.
Unlike yesterday, I don’t have the luxury of holding Rory for a moment, of enjoying how soft and sweet she is, because what woke me up was the thunder of tiny footsteps above us.
Her toddler cousins are awake.
“Roar,” I murmur.
She whines in protest and wiggles her bum against my cock.
Fucking hell, I agree, we should stay exactly where we are. “We can’t be caught like this.”
Even though I’d put up with all the teasing in the world, and everyone thinks we’re still together anyway. But she’s never been one for PDAs.
Last night’s kisses play in my head like an All Star highlight reel as I slide out from behind her.
We probably shouldn’t have done that. I was right that kissing was different than hooking up, and it complicates everything.
But as soon as I confessed to her that I’d held back, as soon as she looked at my mouth with that hungry, unfiltered expression of pure need, I knew we were going to crash through that boundary. We needed to.
I’d do it again this morning if we weren’t going to have company in three, two, one—
“Santa came!” The twins are like a tornado, spiralling into the room with completely chaotic intention.
I’ve just snatched the blanket and pillow from the couch that Rory didn’t sleep on, and I’m holding them in front of my crotch as I give a gruff good morning nod to Allan and Tabitha, who are corralling their children to only open the presents that are for them.
Carmen follows quickly, bustling around the kitchen. I leave Rory sleeping and go to make myself useful.
I’ve just poured a cup of coffee when Rory stumbles into the kitchen, hair fluffy and eyes barely open.
I hold the mug in the air and she beelines for it, her hands outstretched.
“Good morning,” I murmur as she collides into me.
She mumbles something as she pulls the coffee to her mouth.
I kiss the top of her head and wrap my arm around her waist, holding her close.
“How’d you sleep?” Carmen asks.
Rory’s cheeks turn pink. “Great.”
Then she slashes a quick glance up at me, checking to see if my answer is the same.
As if I would want to be anywhere but wrapped around her.
“Yeah, great. The couches are very comfortable.” I clear my throat. “Need any help with breakfast?”
Every year it’s the same thing, hashbrown casserole and cinnamon rolls, both of which Carmen has prepped in the fridge so they just need to be slid into the oven.
But I offer anyway, and she waves me off as she always does.
Over the next half hour, everyone else wakes up and joins us. After her first cup of coffee, Rory disappears to get showered and changed. She comes back wearing jeans and a silky pink top that shows off her tits and makes me want to howl at how many people are in this house right now.
When the cinnamon rolls come out of the oven, she’s right there, waiting for the first one.
“You want to share?” she asks me over the din of her family serving themselves, holding up the plate.
More than anything. I pat the counter next to me, and when she comes over, I lift her up so she can sit next to me, so I can breathe in her sweet vanilla body wash and pretend that all of this is as real as it feels.
She pulls pieces off and feeds them to me with the perfect ratio of warm icing to sweet bread in each bite.
“Delicious,” I tell her after she pushes a drop of icing off my lip and onto my tongue.
“Aren’t they good?” She moans happily.
“Yeah, the buns are delicious, too.” I wink at her and she turns a perfect shade of pink. It matches her top, and her nipples, and all I want for Christmas is a chance to get her alone. Maybe we can sneak off and—
“It’s present time for the grown-ups,” one of the small children hollers. And he shakes a small gold paper box over his head for emphasis.
“That’s your present,” Rory says, giggling.
“It’s not fragile, is it?”
“Not really.”
“Listen, I did get you something, but it’s more priv—”
“Let’s move this nauseating lovefest into the living room,” Jules says, bumping into me.
“We’re just eating breakfast,” Rory protests.
“Finish up, let’s go, I got you some good stuff this year.”
I catch Rory’s wrist, and as soon as everyone has filed into the back room, leaving us alone, I lick her fingers clean. “You go get started. I’m going to catch a shower and get changed.”
Since I don’t expect any presents other than the one Rory got for me at the last minute, and that the toddler has a good hold on for now, I grab my backpack and head upstairs.
I really do mean to just have a quick shower and head back downstairs.
But then I see Rory’s body wash on the ledge, and I think about her little fingers in my mouth.
The next thing I know I’ve got the bottle uncapped and I’m pouring out just enough that her scent rises around me in the steam.
I brace one hand against the tile and take my cock in hand. Waking up with Rory in my arms two days in a row, and not being able to roll her under me and make her scream is testing all of my resolve.
And she doesn’t even know, because she sleeps like a little log.
But she has to know what I was thinking when she was feeding me, right?
Right?
My cock throbs in my grip.
For months, I was so conflicted about hooking up with Rory. On the one hand…I wasn’t fucking saying no. On the other, she made it clear she only wanted my cock.
And now that we’ve been pushed together and forced to work through the point of bristling and barking at each other, and we haven’t had sex, I want her even more. On a deeper level.
On a forever level, again.
Not that I ever stopped wanting forever, but it didn’t seem like we’d ever be in more than just a holding pattern.
Turns out, I fucking miss what that was, and I got all tangled up in thinking it was a holding pattern.
If that’s all that Rory wants, then I’ll find a way to be happy as her boyfriend—if she’ll have me again.