Page 135 of Babies for the Christmas Grump

“Patience,” he warns, sliding one hand down my belly, over the swell where our twins are resting, before slipping lower. His fingers find me already slick, and he groans against my skin. “So ready for me. You’re mine, Sunny. Every inch.”

“Ryder,” I whimper, tugging at the bar to stop me from flying apart.

He doesn’t relent. His fingers slide in slow, tantalizing strokes, teasing, circling, then plunging deep. I writhe against the wall, the water pounding around us, but he controls every movement.

When I get close, when my body tightens around him, he pulls back just enough to leave me gasping in frustration.

“You like it when I make you wait?” His eyes are locked on mine.

“Yes,” I admit, breathless, my cheeks burning. “Fuck, yes… please.”

That one word is all it takes. He kisses me hard, almost punishing, while his hand works me mercilessly, building me up repeatedly until I’m sobbing his name.

Then he pulls his fingers away, slick with me, and grips my hip hard. “Turn around.”

I obey instantly, pressing my palms flat against the tile, my back arched. He growls low in his throat, running a hand over the curve of my ass, before he pushes inside me from behind, filling me so suddenly I cry out.

His hand clamps over my mouth to muffle the sound, the other gripping my hip like steel as he thrusts hard, deep, relentless.

The water pours down over us, steam curling around my body as he pounds into me, every stroke hitting that perfect spot. His palm swallows my cries until he pulls it away, tangling his fingers in my hair, yanking my head back so I can feel his breath hot against my ear.

I fall.

I tumble headfirst into the endless abyss of pleasure.

My whole body shatters, convulsing around him as pleasure rips through me, white-hot and overwhelming. He groans, driving deep one final time before spilling into me with aguttural moan, holding me tight as we both tremble under the pounding water.

For a long moment, all I hear is the rush of the shower, our ragged breaths mingling in the steam. My body is weak and shaking, but Ryder doesn’t let me go.

He wraps his arms around me from behind, kissing my wet shoulder softly, tenderly, so different from the roughness just moments ago.

“You’re mine,” he whispers again, softer this time. “Forever.”

I smile through the haze, leaning back against his chest. “Guess that makes you mine too, Mr. Hale.”

And then, of course, he growls in my ear. Low, filthy, promising. “Round two is in bed.”

The end.