Page 24 of Merry Little Christmas
During that time, I learned things about Peyton that I never thought I’d have the pleasure of knowing.
They loved to kiss, and had it down to an art form. The smooth glide of their tongue along mine never failed to stir those butterflies in my stomach. They’d kiss me for hours, until I was so hard that I couldn’t even think straight. They had a birthmark ontheir hip that, when I licked it, drove them wild. The spot behind their ear was equally as sensitive.
Hearing Peyton say that they loved me had become my new favorite sound. I’d have done anything they wanted to hear it again.
Currently, that was mouthing over their chest. They still weren’t comfortable going bare, but that was fine by me. I was happy to use my tongue to tease their peaked nipples through the fabric. The move turned them into a babbling mess, and they held me in place with a hand on the back of my neck.
Like I’d want to beanywhereelse.
“I love you,” they panted.
My hand was between their thighs and once they throbbed against my fingers, I bit down, eliciting a guttural sound from them that rattled the windows. Soothing the sting with my tongue, I wrapped my arm around their waist while their orgasm faded. My cock begged for attention, but I ignored it. They were more important.
That was another thing I’d learned over the last few days: I couldn’t get enough of Peyton McKauley.
I’d be content to never leave the bed again but as I rested my head on their stomach, it rumbled beneath my ear. I laughed, and Peyton squirmed and covered their face. “I should feed you,” I said, kissing their belly piercing. “And change the sheets—again.”
As I climbed out of bed and pulled on a pair of sweats, Peyton rose onto their elbows, blushing at the sight of the large wet spot between their thighs. “I won’t apologize for that.”
“You shouldn’t. It’s fucking hot.” I leaned over and licked into their mouth. They grunted into the kiss, holding me in place for a brief moment before I pulled away. “Do you want me to help you clean up?”
“No, I’ve got it.”
With another brief kiss, I left them alone.
The clock on the stove read 6:52—we’d spent all day in bed, but I didn’t even care. I threw a frozen pizza in the oven and putThe Polar Expresson the TV for the thousandth time since Peyton had tackled me at my front door. As much as they said they didn’t feel very festive this year, that movie never failed to have them watching, starry-eyed, with a mug of peppermint hot chocolate in their hands.
Though as soon as I turned my back, it flipped off. Confused, I whirled around. Peyton stood there, remote in hand, wearing nothing but their binder and a tiny pair of lime green boxer briefs. Bite marks decorated their torso and the exposed parts of their chest. They set the remote down and faced me, the dark purple bruise on their neck coming into view.Damn, they looked good wearing my marks.
“You’ve kept me distracted with orgasms and Little space for days now, and I’ve let it slide,” they said, crossing their arms. “It’s time for you to tell me about my house.”
I worried my bottom lip, mulling over how to begin.
Truth be told, the damage wasn’tthatbad. The roof was an easy fix, and the quick work at covering it up spared most of the flooring. But the quicker repairs were done, the faster Peyton would be able to move back home. I’d been selfishly keeping it from them in the hopes that it would keep them in my house—in my bed—a little longer. “You want a drink?”
“If you think you can bribe me with hot chocolate again…” I bit my lip harder. Peyton trying to be dominant was adorable. I snickered, and the fight left them. “It might work. Is it that bad?”
I shook my head, pulling out a chair for them to sit down. “It’s not, and I wasn’t thinking of hot chocolate. I’ve got some of that spiced rum you like.”
“You hate spiced rum!”
Soft footsteps padded into the kitchen behind me. I grabbed the bottle from its hiding spot and took a Dr. Pepper from the fridge. “Oh, come on, Peyton. You have to give me more credit.”
I set both bottles on the table along with a glass, letting them be in charge of how much they had.
“You just keep this around in the hopes that I might want some?” Peyton poured themself a drink. A bit more than I would have had personally, but I knew they could handle it. Thick, syrupy cherry vanilla rum drizzled over the ice and settled in the bottom of the glass.
Blech.
“Do you see a seal on that bottle?” I questioned, and their responding flush told me everything I needed to know. “Someone’sbeen sneaking it at the cookouts, and it hasn’t been me.”
“Damn it,” they muttered.
“Your hiding spot isn’t so hidden. And you get chatty when you drink.”
“How else am I supposed to tolerate interacting with so many people?”
“That’s also why I keep the makeup wipes,” I confessed. “You’re alsoincrediblylazy when you’re tipsy.”
