Page 112 of Babies for the Christmas Grump

He licks me through it, slow and possessive, until I’m twitching from the sensitivity. When he finally pulls away, his mouth glistens, his smirk pure sin.

Before I can recover, he flips me and bends me over the dresser. My palms splay against the cool wood, my reflection in the mirror catching the flush on my cheeks, the hunger in my eyes.

“Tell me to stop,” he rasps, his hands already tugging at the zipper of my dress.

“Don’t you dare stop,” I fire back.

The dress slips down, pooling at my waist, and his palm comes down hard across my ass. The sharp sting makes me gasp, my back arching.

“You’re wound so tight, Sunny,” he murmurs, spanking me again, this time slower. “Maybe this is what you need. To let go.”

A moan rips out of me before I can smother it. He chuckles darkly, spreading me open with one hand, his other gripping my hip.

And then he’s inside me. Thick, deep, filling me in one relentless thrust. I cry out, clutching the dresser for balance as my body clenches around him.

“Fuck, you feel incredible,” he groans, snapping his hips harder, deeper, until the rhythm pounds every ounce of tension out of me.

Every stroke is punishing, a reminder, a claim. He leans over me, his hand tangling in my hair, pulling my head back so our eyes meet in the mirror.

“Look at yourself,” he growls. “Look at how perfect you are like this. Taking me, begging for it even when you’re too stubborn to admit it.”

I whimper, but I don’t look away. I can’t. Watching myself unravel, his expression dark and hungry behind me, is almost too much to handle.

The pressure coils tight inside me, and when his hand slips down to circle my clit, it’s game over.

“Ryder…”

“Come for me, Sunny.”

My body unravels, another orgasm tearing through me with brutal force, leaving me shaking and crying out as I collapse against the dresser.

But he doesn’t stop, not until he’s groaning my name, thrusting deep, holding me flush against him as he spills hot and hard inside me.

The sensation of him filling me makes me moan, my body twitching with aftershocks as I slump forward. His hand slides down my belly, holding me in place as he pulses deep inside, unwilling to let me go.

When it’s over, he leans against me, his lips brushing my shoulder, his chest heaving. For a moment, there’s silence—just the sound of our ragged breathing and my racing heartbeat.

Then he presses a soft kiss to the back of my neck, and the tenderness in that small gesture nearly undoes me all over again.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Ryder

December 22nd

I can feel it.Her tension. The way she’s not quite herself, the way she’s lying there next to me but not really with me.

Her body’s too still, too stiff, her breathing a little ragged.

Something’s wrong. I don’t know what it is, but I sense she’s hiding something.

I could let it go, leave her to whatever’s eating her up inside. But that’s not who I am, not anymore. So, I shift, pulling myself up on one arm to face her. I study her for a moment. The way she’s staring at the ceiling, her eyes distant. She’s somewhere else.

“Hey,” I murmur. “What’s wrong?”

She doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she shifts slightly, tugging the blanket up around her shoulders as if trying to shield herself from the world. And maybe from me, too.

I wait, my hand still resting on the bed beside her. The uncomfortable silence stretches between us.