Page 56 of A Christmas For Holly

I nodded, reaching up to cup his face. “I’m sure. I want this. I want you.”

He lined himself up, the tip of his cock pressing against my entrance. I took a deep breath, trying to relax as he pushed forward. There was a moment of resistance, and then he slid inside, filling me inch by inch.

“Oh, fuck,” Holly gasped, his eyes widening. “You feel amazing.”

I moaned in response, adjusting to the stretch and fullness. Holly held still, giving me time to acclimate, his arms shaking as he braced himself above me. I could see the concentration on his face, the effort it took to restrain himself.

“You can move,” I whispered, running my hands up his arms. “Please.”

He nodded, pulling back before easing in again. We both groaned at the sensation. Holly set a careful rhythm as if he didn’t want to hurt me.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his voice strained.

“It’s perfect,” I assured him, wrapping my legs around his waist to keep him closer. “You feel so good inside me.”

His pace quickened, confidence growing with each thrust. I arched my back, meeting him halfway, relishing the friction and fullness. Holly’s breathing grew ragged, his fingers digging into my hips, and then his cock brushed my prostate.

“Oh, god,” I gasped, pleasure shooting through me. “Right there.”

Holly’s eyes lit up with understanding. He angled his hips, aiming for that spot again and again. Each thrust sent me higher, and I clutched at his back, nails digging into his skin.

“I’m close,” Holly panted, his rhythm becoming erratic. “Fuck, I’m so close.”

I tried to reach between us, to wrap my hand around my aching cock, and he had to shift so I could get to it, and I nearly saw freaking stars. “Me too,” I moaned, stroking myself in time with his thrusts.

Holly’s movements grew more frantic, uncoordinated, on the edge of release. The sight of him losing control, combined with the dual sensations of his cock hitting my prostate and my hand on my cock, pushed me over the edge.

“Oh, fuck, Holly!” I cried out as my orgasm hit, my body tensing and shuddering beneath him. My release spilled hot between our bodies as waves of pleasure crashed over me.

Holly thrust deep as he came with a strangled moan, his hips jerking erratically, riding out the aftershocks as he collapsed onto me, both of us panting and trembling. He was heavy and hot, sucking marks into my skin and praising me, and it was perfect.

For a long moment, we lay tangled together, catching our breath. Holly’s weight was comforting, grounding me as the aftershocks of pleasure rippled through my body. I ranmy fingers through his sweat-dampened hair, savoring the intimacy. Eventually, he lifted his head, meeting my gaze.

“That was…” he trailed off, seemingly at a loss for words.

“Yeah,” I agreed, unable to keep the smile off my face. “It really was.”

He pulled out carefully, both of us wincing at the sensation. As he disposed of the condom, I grabbed some tissues from the nightstand to clean us up. When he returned to bed, he hesitated only a moment before lying beside me, our bodies barely touching.

“Are you okay?” I asked, turning on my side to face him. “How do you feel?”

Holly was quiet for a moment. “Strong.” He hugged me, and I held him tight. “So, fucking strong.”

After washing up with limited hot water, we tumbled back into bed, the warmth of the covers wrapping around us like a cocoon against the cold pressing at the windows. Holly’s damp hair stuck up in every direction, and he looked at me with that soft, sleepy smile that had become one of my favorite things about him. I stretched out beside him, one arm under my head, the other resting lightly on his stomach, and we just… talked.

It started small, the aimless chatter that comes naturally when you’re comfortable with someone. I told him about my family’s plans for the parade next year—how Wesley, our newest volunteer, wanted to make it even bigger and how Duncan had already started complaining about the logistics. Holly laughed at that, shaking his head as he said something about Wishing Tree feeling like a Hallmark movie coming to life.

Then, without planning to, I started talking about myself. “I didn’t always think I’d stay here, you know,” I admitted, staring at the ceiling as I spoke. “I went to college, but when it came time to pick a direction—like, what to do with my life—I came home. It just felt… right. Like this is where I belong.”

Holly was quiet, his hand tracing lazy circles on my arm. “That’s… nice,” he said, his voice soft. “Knowing where you belong. I don’t think I’ve ever felt that outside of hockey.”

I turned to look at him, the faint light catching in his eyes. “Do you regret not going to college?” I asked.

He shrugged, his gaze dropping to where his fingers played idly with the edge of the blanket. “Sometimes. Not about hockey—never about that. But, yeah, maybe about not exploring more, figuring myself out earlier. If I could go back… I don’t know. Maybe I’d study sports science. At least that’s what I’d have picked back then.”

“And now?” I asked, nudging him. “If you could study anything?”

He paused, thoughtful, before answering. “Now? Something to work with athletes, I think. Post-career guys, or even mid-career. Psychology, maybe. Helping them figure out the transition or deal with the pressure.”

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