Page 46 of Christmas with Brother's Best Friends
Just the sound of my name on her tongue spurs me on even more, heat channeling through every inch of my body. I keep my hand fisted in her hair, holding her in place so that I can thrust deep every single time.
Emma’s breath quickens as her thighs start to tremble. “Oh… please…”
She moans my name, and it shatters something in me.
She’s probably sensitive to the touch at this point, able to be toppled over so easily.
“You’re going to come with me,” I growl, chasing the edge. “You ready?” Emma nods as much as she can. “I’m ready. I’m so ready.”
I can feel her squeezing me at this point, and there’s no way that I can fight off my release any longer. My grip tightens on her hair as I slam home, spilling into her as her walls flutter around me.
She barely has any voice left to speak, but I can hear her whimper of pleasure as she shudders through her orgasm. She drapes herself over the back of the couch, breathing heavily.
I lean over and kiss the spot between her shoulder blades, able to feel her exhaustion. Hopefully, we didn’t push her too hard. Or too far.
“Get something to clean her up,” I tell Ryan over my shoulder.
Once I pull out of her, I move in a daze, my head spinning as I clean myself up and redress. Once everyone is dressed, there is a moment of silence and tension as we all gaze at each other, reeling in the aftermath of what we just did.
And who knows what will happen next?
“It’s too dangerous to travel,” Ryan says. “We should stay here.”
We all nod in agreement and start claiming couches and chairs, all of us sleeping apart. I want her in my arms so badly. I want to tell her that everything is going to be okay and believe the damn words myself, but as I lay down and try to get comfortable in the increasingly darkening office, my fear of the consequences that may follow amplifies.
Chapter twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-One: Ryan
Pain radiates through my body when I wake up, my eyes stinging from the bright light of a snowy Christmas morning.
I grit my teeth and stifle my groan as my back aches from my uncomfortable bed of two cushioned seats pushed together. My childhood bed always felt too stiff as well. On Christmas Eve night, I tossed and turned not just because I was eager to see what Santa brought me for Christmas.
At one point, I started thinking that Santa hated me because the gifts under the tree weren’t exciting or anything close to what I wished for in my letters. Socks and school supplies. Maybe some sweets that we already had in our pantry.
When I found out that Santa didn’t exist and my parents were the ones filling my stocking with a bunch of nothing, thingsmade a lot more sense. As sad as it was, it was kind of relieving to know that I didn’t disappoint someone else.
I don’t even know why I tried to do Christmas with my family this year. All I know is disappointment. It’s all I’ll ever know with them.
The sound of someone stirring coaxes my eyes to the left where Emma is laying on the couch, stretching her arms and legs out with her eyes still closed. The same couch where we acted on our desires without holding back.
I wait for the snap of guilt and regret, but it’s so faint that I barely feel it. It almost feels forced because, truly, I’d do last night over again. I wouldn’t change what happened because getting to be with her made me happier than I’ve felt in a while, even with having to share her. It didn’t taint my feelings at all.
The fact that I get to wake up on Christmas morning to the sight of her face already makes it a better Christmas than all the ones in the past. She makes everything better.
But I’m not a fool or an idiot. If anyone finds out what we did last night, we’re fucked. I can’t see anything good coming from it, which rips into my soul harsher than I expect.
“Morning,” Josh murmurs as he sits up, rubbing his eyes sleepily.
“Merry Christmas,” Max says from my left, his voice bordering on cautious.
Emma brushes her fingers through her hair, her face growing pale as she fully wakes up. “We have to get to my parents’ house. Are the roads clear?”
I push myself to my feet, ignoring the ache shooting up my back as I stumble to the nearest window. I look down to see that the roads are already much clearer than yesterday. “It’s drivable. They must have scraped sometime in the night. We’ll be able to make it to your parents’ place.”
“Should we still go?” Max asks, making everyone tense. When no one responds, he shakes his head and gets up. “Never mind. That was a stupid question.”
None of us want to be the first to say it out loud. Because if last night becomes real, then so do the consequences. Maybe it’s best that we forget last night for right now and just focus on getting through Christmas.
