Page 13 of The Christmas Eve Delivery

As soon as I closed the door behind him, he surprised me by picking me up again. He had wrapped his arms under my butt and lifted. I braced my hands on his shoulders.

“Where am I going?” he asked as he looked up at me.

I tried to twist and point, but that felt precarious at best. I pointed behind me to the door on the other side of the room.

“Down that hall, second door.” I laughed as he carried me. I was too big for this, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Duck,” he announced as we reached the doorway.

I leaned over, and he buried his face between my breasts. He staggered, and then I was slipping down the front of his body.

“Sorry, I got distracted,” he said sheepishly.

It was still an impressive display of strength.

“How about I distract you some more?” I asked as I pulled my sweatshirt over my head.

I dropped it on the floor and scurried away from Miles, leading him on a chase into my room. He followed and grabbed me after only a few steps.

“Gotcha!” He let out an appreciative hum as he swung me back against him, turning me so that he could place his face against my breasts again.

I clutched at his back, holding him against me. I threw my head back, giving in to the delicious passion of the moment. His hands did not fumble when it came to unclasping my bra and setting my breasts free. He covered my exposed skin with his hands and his mouth, sucking a nipple in to tease and play with.

My sense of balance was gone, and I stumbled back. My legs hit the bed, and together, we tumbled.

Miles managed to never release my nipple, licking and sucking on it. He landed with the grace of a cat. While I was pinned beneath him, he wasn’t putting any pressure on me. His hands braced against the mattress, caging me in, and one knee between my thighs supported him.

I ground against his firm thigh.

He bucked my legs farther apart before positioning himself between them. I arched up against him, seeking out the hardness of his erection, still contained by his clothing. As he continued to devour my breasts, I lost my mind to my need to feel his skin. I tried to pull on his shirt, but it was as if my hands were useless. He flicked his tongue over my sensitive nipple, and I forgot everything, including how to make a fist or tug on fabric.

Since I couldn’t figure out how his clothes worked, I knew how to get out of mine. The fleece-lined lounge pants I wore were simple elastic waist banded things. I managed to shove them down and wiggle.

Miles seemed to understand what I was doing, even though it felt as if all of his attention was on my breasts. He chased hishand after mine, and when I could no longer reach my pants, he took over, skimming the fabric the rest of the way down each leg, and eventually, off.

His clothes rasped sensually against my sensitized skin. At least one of us was naked.

He dragged his hand back up my thigh, shifting so that he trailed it between us.

I gasped as his fingers sank between my folds. He didn’t waste any time playing with my pussy before he was running the pad of his thumb in circles around my clit. He continued to suck and toy with my breasts as his hand and fingers did magical things between my legs.

I don’t know, and frankly didn’t care, how he managed to get fingers into my depth and rub against my clit at the same time. All I know is it was the most amazing sensation. He stroked and thrust and sucked and played me like I were some kind of instrument and he was a virtuoso.

The aching need that built in my core drove me to a frenzy.

“Miles, Miles,” I somehow managed to speak. “I need… Oh, God, Miles, I need you.”

I ached with longing when he pulled away from me. I reached out for him as he backed away.

“Let me get out of my clothes.” He laughed. He took my hand and kissed my fingertips. I never thought of my fingers as erogenous zones before.

I whimpered with my need. And then the sounds I made turned to gasps and grunts of appreciation as Miles stripped before me.

The man was as beautiful as a Greek sculpture, all defined planes and chiseled features, and he wanted me, my body. I was the opposite with squish and jiggle. My definitions were soft and rounded, while his were angular and firm.

He crawled back to me like a prowling beast stalking its prey. Only he didn’t have to stalk. I was spread out before him, a feast waiting to be consumed. He smiled into my eyes as I welcomed him back into my arms.

He pressed me back into the bed, and I accepted him into my depths. He filled me, stretching me until we were hip to hip.

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