Page 41 of Make You Mine This Christmas
“You giving me a case of blue balls responsible for removing some of the brain cells responsible for operating a motor vehicle? Yes, right on schedule,” I snark, pulling into a parking spot. I throw the SUV in park, undo my seat belt, and lean over the console. My fingers tangle in his hair as I yank his face to mine, devouring his mouth in a kiss I’ve been aching to give him all day. His tongue tangles with mine, and I swallow down his groan before pulling away.
“We should head inside,” I say, taking all my willpower to press pause. “Because the next stage of my plan is much better executed on a bed, and I know you may want to take a shower.” I open the door and climb out, surprised to find Brody still in the passenger seat by the time I reach the other side. He’s staring into the distance and worrying his lip.
I pull on his door handle and lean down. “Brody? Everything okay?”
He nods. “There’s, um, a reason I haven’t really pushed to progress things to this point over the past week.”
“Oh. Okay,” I say, my mind racing with the possibilities. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He nods. “Yeah, I guess we should. Sorry, I killed the mood.”
“You didn’t kill anything.” I wrap my fingers in his and walk with him to the door. “I’m fine if sex isn’t penetrative. It’s been a long time; tastes change.”
Brody smiles warmly at me, relaxing a fraction. “Let’s get inside and talk before we scandalize Mrs. Roberts,” referring to my next-door neighbor.
I unlock the door, letting us in. “Mrs. Roberts and I share a wall. Unfortunately, I think that ship has sailed.”
“Thatdefinitely doesn’t help the mood,” he says, and I wince. Yeah, right, talking about my neighbor hearing me have sex with other people is not going to help this situation.
We get unbundled and sit on the couch. Brody plays with a loose thread on the cuff of his sweater. His lip is back between his teeth, which pulls me in two directions: wanting to be the one to bite his lip and wondering what he’s going to say. I reach for his cheek, allowing the hairs on his beard to tickle my thumb as I move it up and down, trying to provide some comfort. It must help, because he releases his lip and leans into my hand.
“What’s going on?”
Brody swallows and pulls my hand down into his lap, tangling his fingers with mine. “So, I haven’t bottomed since we were together.”
I hesitate before saying, “Oh, okay,” then fall silent while I process.
He winces and tries to pull his hands away, but I tighten my grip. My brain comes back online. “No, I’m sorry, I was processing. You said you were a bottom before, so I’m a little surprised, that’s all. What changed? You don’t have to have a reason, like I said—preferences shift. It’s okay.”
His eyes meet mine then, and lock on, where I feel like I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to. “I know I’m the one who left, I’m the one who decided, but I need you to know leaving you still wrecked me. It was like I left a part of me behind, and I built a wall around that missing part with law school and busyness, hiding the pain until I could pretend it didn’t exist. But that wall also kept people out, stopped them from getting too close to me, from letting them in. It manifested itself physically too—it felt too raw, too vulnerable to let someone into my body that way. Topping meant I could get a physical release without letting my emotions get too involved.” His eyes water, but no tears spill over.
I squeeze his hand then, letting him know I hear him, I see him. “I understand not wanting to let anyone get too close. Mine didn’t manifest in the same way, but I haven’t let anyone in emotionally since you left either.”
Brody sniffs and laughs, it sounding a little wet. “Now, I think we’ve sufficiently killed the mood.”
“I mean, if you want to declare the mood dead on arrival, we can. But I think we can resurrect it if we try. I’ll go get in the shower and get cleaned up—you go take a minute to breathe and relax on the bed, and we’ll see how you feel.” I pull Brody to his feet.
“Austin, we don’t have to?—”
“No, I want to. It’s been a while, but it’s not like I’ve never done it before. You’ll just need to go slow.” The words I say are a stark contrast to the way my emotions are racing ahead, pulling me back into love with this man, and all that he is. “Try not to hurt me.” I’ll have to keep those emotions locked away—I don’t want to make him feel guilty for leaving me twice.
“I haven’t done as good a job of it as I should have in the past, but I never want to hurt you ever again.”
I lean in to give him a peck on the lips and walk off to the bathroom.
* * *
Once I’m clean everywhere I want to be fresh, I wrap a towel around my waist and walk back to my bedroom. I’m wondering if going the towel route is a bit aggressive, considering I’m not sure I’ll find Brody too emotionally raw, but the sight on my bed stops me in the doorway.
Brody lies on my bed without a stitch of clothing on. His head and shoulders are propped on a pillow. I spend a few seconds taking in his handsome face, the way the beard that lends so well to his Santa persona now gives him a rugged air I’m very into. The same feelings continue as I take in the way he’s let his chest hair grow in, a smattering of grey mixed with the darker brown. The trail of hair narrows as it rises and falls with the curve of his stomach, leading to where his hand is slowly stroking his cock. His legs are splayed on top of the dark blue quilt, and any concerns I had about coming on too strong are long gone. Fuck, he’s a pornographic scene laid out to fulfill my fantasies.
“God, baby, you look so good.” I watch the heat in his eyes spike at the pet name. I stalk slowly closer to the bed, torn between not wanting to interrupt the show and feeling like I might die if I don’t touch him in the next five seconds.
“You look a little overdressed,” he says, reaching out and yanking on the towel around my waist until it comes untucked and falls at my feet. I take advantage of the full range of motion to climb onto the bed and straddle his waist, lining my cock up with his. He takes the hint, and widens his fist, wrapping around both of us as best he can, adding a small thrust of his hips to the motion. Our cocks glide together, and I spot the bottle of lube next to him on the bed.
“God, you’re smart,” I say, leaning down to kiss him. I thrust my hips into his fist in time with his and moan into his mouth.
“It pays to check things twice,” he murmurs against my mouth before slipping his tongue in to tangle with mine. He releases our cocks and moves his hands to my hips. His fingers dig into my ass cheeks as his grip tightens, increasing the pressure as we continue to thrust into each other.
