Page 55 of Wrapped Up with the Three Scrooges

But as much as I loved the taste of her, I needed to be inside her just as much. I pushed myself up and pulled her to her feet, turning her around and bending her over so her hands were on the bench. I lifted her leg until her foot rested on it, making her perfectly open to me. “You look absolutely fucking perfect like this.”

“Please,” she begged, trying to press back against me.

“Not yet.” I ran my hands over the globes of her ass before bringing a firm hand down on one.

She yelped, and the sound made my cock ache. “Ronan!”

“That’s for being sassy.” I smoothed my hand over the slight pink tinge on her skin.

“I’ll have to be sassy more often.” She wiggled her ass at me, and I smacked her other cheek. “Yes, please!”

“Someone likes a little pain, doesn’t she?” I leaned down and kissed the small of her back.

“Fuck me before…”

Her words died on her lips as I gripped her hips, pulling her back slightly so I could line myself up with her entrance. I’d never wanted something so badly and the anticipation nearly had me coming right then.

The head of my cock pressed forward. When the tip barely entered her, we both groaned at the sensation. I thrust into her, burying myself deep in one fluid motion.

She was impossibly tight, gripping me like a vise. I set a deep, intense rhythm, pulling out until just the tip remained before slamming back in.

The slap of flesh echoed through the shower as I fucked her. She pushed her hips back against me, silently begging for more. I gave it to her, pulling out and thrusting back in harder and faster.

“Yes, yes, oh God, Ronan!” She braced one hand on the wall in front of her, using the leverage to hold herself in place.

I drove into her repeatedly. The view of her ass bouncing against my hips and my cock sliding in and out of her was the best thing I’d ever seen.

She was so close, teetering on the edge. I reached back and grabbed the detachable showerhead, bringing it around to her clit.

“I’m going to come, Ronan!” she cried out. “Fuck... fuck... I’m coming!”

Her pussy clenched around me as her orgasm rocked through her. I wasn’t going to last much longer.

I let myself go, fucking her with a ruthlessness that surprised even me. Her cunt was still fluttering around me, both her hands now on the wall in front of us.

“Emery,” I groaned, my orgasm hitting me hard as my cock swelled and I spilled inside her. “Fuck.”

My hips continued to piston against her as I emptied myself inside her, prolonging our pleasure for as long as I could.

Finally, I slowed, dropping the showerhead and banding my arms around her as she trembled like she might collapse. I pulled her back against me, kissing her neck and shoulder.

She turned her head, and I caught her lips with mine in a languid kiss that communicated everything I couldn’t put into words; my need for her, my growing feelings, the way she made me want to be better. There was only Emery, only this.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Emery

I’d never been so happy to see a Friday end in my life. My fingers were cramped, my back ached, and I had enough paper cuts to make me look like I’d gotten into a fight with Edward Scissorhands. But we’d done it. Every present was wrapped, tagged, and ready to ship out tomorrow morning by the shipping department. Blake had even given me what might have been an approving nod as he left for the night, though it could have just been a muscle spasm.

“I can’t believe we actually finished.” I collapsed into the passenger seat of Ronan’s car.

“Did you doubt us?” Ronan raised an eyebrow, pulling out of the parking lot. Max and Levi followed in Levi’s car, their headlights catching in the rearview mirror.

“I doubted my ability to fold one more corner without my fingers falling off.” I held up my band-aid covered hands, the variety of cartoon characters on them a testament to how manytimes I’d needed first aid this week. “It looks like I tried to juggle razor blades.”

He chuckled, reaching over to take one of my hands. His thumb traced gentle circles over my palm, sending tingles up my arm. “Battle scars of the gift-wrapping warriors. Why didn’t you wear the gloves we provided?”

“Because I’m a glutton for punishment... and they made my wrapping worse.” I wore them as much as possible, but not being able to actually feel the paper threw off my wrapping game. Plus, they made me feel like I was handling evidence at a crime scene rather than spreading holiday cheer.

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