Page 78 of Daddy's Little Christmas

His mouth left mine to trace my jaw, my throat, lingering where my pulse jumped. Every touch felt deliberate. Graeme never rushed when it mattered; he took his time, like he was memorizing me all over again, like he wanted me undone before we even reached the point of no return.

I climbed over him, kissing down his neck, sucking marks into his skin, letting my mouth trail lower. I wrapped my hand around his cock, stroking firmly before taking the head into my mouth. I swirled my tongue over the slit, tasting him, then worked him deeper, hollowing my cheeks until he hit the back of my throat.

The bed dipped and creaked beneath us, the sound sharp in the quiet room, and I loved it. I loved the proof of him, of us, of the way he filled the space without trying.

“Fuck, Rudy,” he hissed, fingers threading into my hair, guiding me just enough.

I hummed around him, loving the way he reacted, until he pulled me off with a wet pop.

The air shifted and my body recognized what was coming; it felt overwhelming in the best way.

“Enough. On your back.”

He flipped us easily and settled between my legs. I arched as his fingers slicked me open, gasping when one pushed inside, then two, scissoring just right.

“More,” I begged. “Stretch me for your cock.”

He worked me open with three fingers until my body gave in, needy and pliant. Then he rolled on the condom, lined up, and told me to look at him. I locked eyes with him as he pushed in, the stretch burning sweet and perfect.

“So tight,” he murmured as he sank fully in.

I clung to him, my nails digging into his shoulders, my breath turning uneven as he started moving, shallow at first, then deep and relentless. It had my thoughts scattering. The bed rocked beneath us, the headboard tapping softly against the wall, each movement drawing another sound from my throat. I didn’t bother trying to swallow.

Graeme stayed close, murmuring to me, reminding me to breathe, to feel, to stay with him. His presence was everywhere, grounding and consuming at once, the way only he could manage.

The pressure built slowly, beautifully, until I was shaking, my body reacting faster than my mind could keep up with. I lost track of where one moment ended and the next began, everything narrowing down to sensation and heat and the way he held me through it.

He angled his hips and hit that spot over and over until I shattered, crying out as I came hard, my body clenching aroundhim. I felt like I was falling apart and being caught at the same time. My body went tight, then loose, the release tearing a sound from me I couldn’t have held back if I tried.

Graeme followed soon after, thrusting deep as he groaned my name. His weight was heavy and protective as he stayed there with me, breathing hard against my neck.

For a long moment, neither of us moved.

Then he shifted carefully, pulling back just enough to settle us more comfortably before gathering me into his arms. I curled into him without thinking, my head tucked beneath his chin, his hand sliding up and down my back in slow, steady passes. He kissed my forehead, then my lips, slow and tender.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

I let myself sink into the words, into the rhythm of his breathing. My body felt loose, wrung out, and satisfied in that deep, bone-level way that only came from choosing this with him.

“Don’t ever slow down or stop,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to his chest. “Don’t ever stop choosing me like that. “I need you. Always.”

His arms tightened around me, firm and sure. “I’m never stopping, baby. You’re mine. I’m yours,” he said. “You’re safe here. Always."

I believed him. I always did.

We lay there, breathing together, the night stretching ahead of us full of promises.

Chapter 15

Graeme

The first thing I noticed was the warmth.

Not the kind that came from the radiator or the heavy quilt, but the living, breathing warmth curled into my chest. Soft hair under my chin. A faint snore against my sternum. A leg flung over mine like Rudy had decided in his sleep that I wasn’t going anywhere—not even to roll over.

I blinked awake slowly, letting the room come into focus: pale morning light filtering through the curtains, a lazy snowfall drifting past the frosted pane, the faint smell of pine from the little wreath hanging above the dresser.

A Christmas morning kind of quiet.