Page 27 of All the Way
But my life won’t be damned any more. As long as I have her. Inside my bed. Inside my heart.
“Chris,” she whimpers sweetly. “That’s amazing.”
I tug harder and her head inches back farther, the moonlight licking her white neck. Silver and white dance on her as my lips descend upon that delicate sight.
“Come for me, baby.”
I push hard and again reach down between us to strum her clit. She’s soaked, and I can’t help myself when I reach up to her lips and slip two fingers inside.
Her eyes close tight and hard and tears start to form in the corners of her eyes.
“Baby,” I say, halting my movements and pushing myself up and over her body with a hand pressed to the bed beside her. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” she whimpers. “Nothing’s the matter.”
Her eyes open again, slick with the hint of something I can’t see. But I will. I’ll work hard every day of my life to know what she wants. Before she does, even. I have to. It’s all I want.
I sink back down onto her and cup one of her perfect breasts in my hand, grazing my hard, weather-worn and calloused fingers against her petite, pink nipple.
“I’m going to…” she breathes, writhing beneath me and meeting my thrusts.
“Come, baby? You’re going to come?”
“Yes,” she says with a dull ache in her voice.
“Then come. Now. With me.”
Pushing hard into her and kissing her temple softly, I pull her pleasure out as she gives me everything she has inside. I come hard and deep, coaxing a beautiful moan from deep inside her chest.
Rolling over onto my side, I graze my hand up and down her perfect body. She moves in the moonlight and rests her head on my chest.
“I want to tell you something. I don’t know if I ever got the chance,” I say as she peers up into my eyes, a smile dancing behind them.
“What is it?”
“Merry Christmas, baby.”
Epilogue - Chris
New Year’s Eve
“Who invented eggnog?” Jamie scrunches up her nose as she hands me a glass of the stuff, and I take a small sniff before setting it down on a coaster on the side table next to the couch.
“I tried to make it better by dusting some fresh nutmeg and cinnamon on it,” Jess says, padding over to me and perching on the corner of my knee, wrapping both arms tight around my neck.
It’s snowing outside, and tonight we’re staying in for New Year’s.
“Jamie,” I say, “I don’t want to be rude. Let me try the eggnog.” I press the glass to my lips. It’s ice cold and too thick, and it’s not my first choice, but I try to like it. “Mmm,” I say. I’m not trying to be sarcastic, but that’s how it comes out.
“You’re not offending me,” Jamie says, curling up on the couch across from me and Jess. “It’s not like I made it. I didn’t go out and milk the cow and, I don’t know...how is eggnog made, anyway?”
“Maybe,” Jess says, getting up and walking over to the china cabinet housing the Murphys’ collection of white bone china, wine glasses and a few liquor bottles, “it would be better if we stuck a little rum in it.”
“Ohh!” Jamie’s eyes light up as she grabs her glass from the coffee table and wags it at her sister. “I’ll take some!”
Jess unscrews the bottle and drops a bit of the rum into Jamie’s glass.
“What about you, Chris?”
