Page 64 of Amy's Santa

“Hey, I haven’t had a drink or anything to eat at my own party!” But really, I couldn’t give a damn. Just want to show him I won’t always be making it easy for him.

He pauses, but only for the brief moment he needs to shout over his shoulder, “Sam. Save some food for us, will you? And make it a decent amount. We’ll need it.”

The room erupts again, this time with lewd comments, hints and suggestions, and roars of laughter.

I’m giggling as he carries me out, letting me slide to my feet as soon as we get outside the clubhouse. I stare down at the gorgeous ring that he slid onto my finger and relish in the feel of the cut across my shoulders. I don’t think anything he could do could make me love this man more.

As we walk he whispers into my ear, “Fuck, babe, you wearing my cut’s got me so fuckin’ hard I don’t know if I can wait until we get to the suite. Might fuck you up against the wall.

“Drew!” I swat at him. “What if my dad were to walk out and see us?”

“Well, walk faster then.”

To teach him a lesson I break into a run, turning so I’m moving backwards and tease him. “Think you can keep up, old man?”

Well it appears it’s game on. I give a scream as he launches forward, and turn and flee, but as fast as I run, on his longer legs he’s quicker, and soon catches me.

Pulling me back against him, he whispers into my ear, “You can’t ever run away from me again.”

Mirth over, I respond seriously, “Don’t make me ever want to.”

In an equally sober tone he replies, “Tore my own fuckin’ heart out doing that to you, Amy. That look on your face? I never want to see that again.” He places his hand over his Satan’s Devils’ patch on his cut. “I swear on my life, on my club, that I’ll never do anything to hurt you like that again.”

I turn and wrap my arms around him for a moment, just breathing him in. Then, lightening the moment, I raise my eyes. “I thought we were going to fuck?”

He barks a laugh, takes my hand and pulls me the few more steps it takes to bring us to the door of his suite, then we’re inside and he’s pushing me into the room used as a bedroom.

“Clothes off, now,” he rasps, his chest heaving as though he’s having difficulty breathing, and I suspect it’s not caused by the short run. “Put your cut back on.”

When I do, I stand still as he walks around me. His hand briefly lingers on my ass, then I sense him standing beside me as though reading the words written on the back.

“You’re mine.”

“I’m yours.”

His circuitous route around me is reminiscent of the inspection of a Dom, the difference is I don’t need to stay silent and I can ask him, “Like what you see?”

“Fuck yes.” He slides his hand under my cut, resting his palm on the skin of my lower back. “You’re no stranger to tats, babe. So, I want mine right here. Where I can see it when I’m fuckin’ you.”

“Alright,” I agree. The idea of having his mark on me makes me shiver.

Now he’s in front of me, trailing his fingers down my chest, reaching my lower stomach, and then beyond. “Fuck, you’re wet for me, babe.” He closes his eyes and grasps his cock through the denim, momentarily looking like he’s in pain. “I can’t fuckin’ wait babe, I’ll make it up to you later, but now I want it hard and fast. On your knees on the bed now.”

Another shiver goes through me at his dominant tone. It’s exactly how I want my man to be. As I obey him, he strips off his clothes in record time.

“I want to take you bare. Put my baby in you. Have you walk down the aisle knowing you’re carrying my baby.”

Our courtship hasn’t been conventional, our decision to be together for life fast, and we’ve both agreed we want kids one day. He’s not rushing me, his hands are gently caressing my backside, but his touch is sensual not sexual, he’s not trying to get me into a state where I wouldn’t care.

“You don’t want to be one-upped by your VP,” I tell him, partly worried it’s the truth.

“Nah, ain’t anyone here but us babe. And do you think I’d give a damn about that? This is us, no kind of competition. I seem to have been waiting for you forever, now I have you, I want you in every possible way that I can.”

I feel the same about him, so my reply comes easily, “Yes. Take me bare.”

No one’s ever fucked me without a condom before, not even Flint. Whether or not it’s my imagination, it feels different, a heat that I’ve never felt before.

There might not have been foreplay, but I’m more than ready for him. As he pushes inside, he groans then warns me, “I’m going to fuck my old lady now.”

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