Page 117 of The Christmas Trap

I flip us over so she’s on her back. I urge her legs up and over my shoulders, then twist her arms up and over her head. I curl her fingers around the slats in the headboard. "Hold on."

39

Lark

He pulls back until he’s balanced at my entrance. Then, in one graceful move, he sinks inside me. It’s forceful enough that I move up the bed, and hard enough for the headboard to slap against the wall.

"Don’t let go," he warns.

Then he begins to fuck me in earnest. Like he’s racing to a finish only he can comprehend. Or like he’s finalizing a merger that everyone else has decried hostile but which he views as challenging.

His complete focus is on me, his eyes narrowed, his jaw set, a fierceness to his features that lights fires under my skin. I love how his cock fills me up and pushes down against my inner walls. And how his big body dwarfs mine. And how the heat from his skin infuses mine, uniting us in more ways than just his cock impaling me. I love that.

But it’s more than physical. More than how he fucks me, likebeing inside my cunt is the only thing that brings him pleasure. It’s all of it, really.

The physical,andthe way it feels like we’ve fused our souls together. Plus, it's on a cellular level. And in the meeting of our eyes. He’s overpowering me. Overwhelming me. Making me feel like I’m his to command. His to do with as he pleases.

His. I’m his. And he’s mine.

He’s the bad boy appealing to the wickedness inside me. Giving me permission to unlock the sinful part. The part that wants him to do dirty things to my body. The very things which also appeal to my spirit.

The skin around his eyes tightens. He thrusts inside me again, making sure to hit my G-spot. Vibrations of pleasure sizzle out from my core to my hips, my back, my limbs. He keeps going, making sure to pinch my sensitive nipple, drawing a groan from me. Then slipping his hand between us to pluck at my clit. I’m helpless to stop the climax zipping up my spine, then bouncing down to my feet. It crashes over me with the force of a tsunami. I open my mouth in a soundless cry and gratefully receive his lips on mine, as he absorbs any stray sounds that escape me, before filling my cunt with his seed.

When his biceps tremble and he begins to sag, he makes sure to sink down on the bed on his back and pull me on top of him. I like being draped over him, love how my skin sticks to his, and how my head seems to fit exactly under his chin. I belong here. I flatten my palm over his chest and soak in his presence. If only he‘d realize he belongs with me, too…

Almost as if he hears my thought, he stirs. "Did I hurt you?" he asks in a soft voice.

"It was perfect." I look up at him. "Youare perfect."

“You too.” I want to say that sex with him has blown my mind. That he’s it for me. But when I open my mouth to speak, I end up yawning.

"Sleep." He settles me in his arms.

I want to ask him questions about his emotions for me. Tell him that the way he made love to me tells me he must feel something, butthe events of the last few days catch up with me, and I slide into a deep, dreamless sleep.

When I wake up the next morning, I feel refreshed. Also, it’s Christmas Eve. Even better, the world outside is covered in snow.

It’s going to be awhite Christmas.

And I’m stranded in a chalet with my handsome hunk of a husband, who finds me very desirable.

I can’t remember the last time I slept more than twelve hours in one go. I stretch, wincing at the soreness between my thighs. Which reminds me of how my husband made love to me. I also realize I’m alone in bed.

I take a quick shower, pull on jeans, a sweatshirt, and soft socks, then pad down to the kitchen.

He’s looking out the window with a cup of coffee in hand.

He’s wearing a pair of gray sweats, and a T-shirt that hugs his shoulders and pulls across his back. It highlights how built he is.

When he raises his hand to take a sip of the coffee, his biceps stretch the T-shirt sleeve.

The muscles of his forearms ripple, and I feel an answering response in my lower belly. The soreness in my pussy makes itself known, reminding me how my very well-endowed husband fucked me earlier.

But apparently, I haven’t had enough of him. I watch him for a little longer, reveling in the fact that I know how it feels to have his weight on top of me. Then, when I can’t stop myself any longer, I walk over to stand next to him.

Without missing a beat, he puts his arm around my waist and pulls me close. I melt into his side, looking outside at the world covered in white. It’s quiet. Completely quiet. Not a soul stirs anywhere. There’s not a breath of wind. Just snow-covered earth and boughs weighted down with white. The surface of the lake has frozen over and reflects the blue of the sky. It feels almost otherworldly.

"It feels like we’re the only people alive," I whisper.