Page 5 of Twelve Days of Christmas (Sixty Five Hours #1.5)

ON THE FIFTH DAY OF CHRISTMAS…

Cameron sleeps in on Sunday, so waking up to find him still beside me is not altogether uncommon. But him waking up to find me tying his wrists to the bed head is.

“Uh, Luc?” he asks, still sleepy. “Babe, whatcha doing?”

When both wrists are bound by silk ties to the top of the bed, I straddle him. I can feel his morning wood against my ass, but I ignore it. For now.

I put his next gift on his chest.

It’s a smallish box, not much bigger than my hand, but thicker.

He grins, his eyes sparkle and he wriggles his fingers on his tie-bound hands. “I can’t undo it.”

I smile and turn the box over in my hands. “I get to open this one,” I tell him. “But believe me, this is a gift for you.”

I pull the ribbon, and the bow unravels. “Then again,” I add, “it really is a gift to me too.”

Cameron bites his bottom lip.

I wiggle my ass over his lengthening cock, and he lifts his hips. I shake my head at him, “Mm mm, not yet.”

He pouts, and it makes me grin.

I tear off the wrapping paper, but don’t really show him the box. He’s trying to look at the picture, trying to determine what it is, so I just rip it and pull out his prize.

It’s a small, black, hand-held prostate vibrator. Similar to the wand, but with more of a blunt hook and a little button on the end…to make it vibrate.

Because that’s what it does. It vibrates.

Cameron’s eyes widen, and he instinctively pulls on the restrains at his wrists. I throw the discarded box to the floor and put the sex toy on his chest so he can feel the weight of it. I lean down and whisper against his ear, “On the fifth day of Christmas…”

He shivers and huffs out a breath, so I lick his goose-fleshed skin, and kiss down his chest, rolling his nipple between my teeth.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans.

“Oh, I will,” I tell him honestly.

I pick up the prostate vibrator and press the button. The toy buzzes in my hand, and his eyes pop. “Oh, fuck,” he says again.

“Oh, I will,” I repeat.

With the device still switched on, I press it against his chest, his nipple and trail it down to his navel. It tickles his skin, rippling goose-flesh in its wake, and he writhes underneath it.

I lick the length of his cock and then press the vibrating toy against the base of his cock, and he bucks at the sensation. “Fuck,” he grunts, but he widens his legs.

He wants more.

I never could deny him.

I rub his hole with a little lube; while I rub the vibrating toy over his perenium, I slip my fingertip in his ass.

But then I press the button to turn the vibrations off.

He throws his head forward, looking at me like I’ve lost my fucking mind. “Don’t fucking stop,” he whines at me.

I grin and lick the tip of his cock. When I take him into my mouth, his head falls back to the pillow, and he’s moaning almost incoherently that I should never, ever stop.

I almost laugh. As if I ever fucking would.

But I don’t want him to come just yet.

I release his cock only to take his balls into my mouth, one at a time and tonguing between them. His moans of, “Please, please, baby, please,” tell me he’s ready.

I slip the head of the vibrator into his ass, slowly, slowly, pressing, searching. And his body tells me when it hits my target.

I pump his cock and watch in wonder as he writhes and arches, and moans and begs.

And then I turn the vibrator on.

His entire body convulses, his hips leave the bed and his head pushes back, exposing his corded neck. His mouth is open in a silent scream, and I watch as his cock spills violently onto his stomach.

Oh my, fucking God.

There is nothing more spectacular than watching him cum.

And there is nothing that turns me on more.

I lean over him, take both our cocks in my hand and using his cum as a lube, I pump us both. He’s still hard and throbbing, twitching in my hand and he’s almost convulsing underneath me.

I press my hips harder into his and pump harder, harder, harder. When he groans long and low, my balls tighten and with an almost painful surge, my cock empties between us.

It takes a while before either of us can speak.

It was the fifth day of Christmas three more times that day.