Page 30 of An Undisputed Christmas
"Then don't," he commanded, his thumb finding my clit and rubbing hard. "Come for me, angel. Come all over my cock and show me who you belong to."
The combination of his fingers and the relentless drive of his hips sent warmth tumbling through me.
My orgasm hit, stealing my breath and turning my vision white at the edges. Every muscle in my body contracted simultaneously, my inner walls clamping down on Adrian's length with rhythmic pulses.
“Fuck—my good girl," he groaned, his own rhythm growing erratic as my climax pressed down around him. “I can't get enough of watching you fall apart."
He chased his own release with desperate thrusts, his fingers digging into my hips hard enough to leave bruises. When he finally came, it was with a low groan that echoed through the kitchen, his cock pulsing as he filled me with rope after rope of his release.
We stayed locked together in the aftermath, both trembling and gasping for air while the Christmas music filled the kitchen.
The scent of cinnamon and vanilla still drifted in the air, now mixed with the musk of our coupling and the fog of our mingled love against the cold glass.
"Perfect way to start a Christmas morning," he murmured eventually, pressing gentle kisses along my hair as he slowly lowered me back to my feet.
My legs were unsteady, forcing me to grip his shoulders for supportwhile he smoothed my thermal top back down, pulled up my pants, and retied my apron with tender care.
His touch was gentle now, but not very different from the commanding predator of moments before.
"The cookies," I gasped suddenly, remembering my abandoned baking project with a start.
"Will be perfect," he assured me, pulling his snowman pants back up and adjusting them around his hips. "Just like everything else you do, angel."
After a while, the sound of a door upstairs made us both freeze, but Adrian merely smiled and moved to the coffee maker with casual confidence.
By the time Connor appeared in the doorway, hair mussed and expression suspiciously knowing, we looked like the picture of domestic innocence.
"Morning," Connor greeted suspiciously, his dark eyes taking in our slightly disheveled appearances with obvious amusement.
"Sugar cookies and gingerbread will be ready for decorating soon," I replied brightly, gesturing toward the cooling racks lined with perfectly shaped treats.
Connor's gaze shifted between Adrian and me, one eyebrow raising slightly, but he didn't comment. He nodded at the cookies and moved to start his breakfast routine, the familiar sounds of domesticity filling the kitchen.
Soon, the space would be alive with the chaos of our entire family waking up, demanding breakfast and attention, and the promise of Christmas magic.
Within an hour, the kitchen had transformed into a winter wonderland of sugar-dusted laughter.
The marble island was covered with cooling racks displaying my perfectly baked sugar cookies and gingerbread figures—each one golden brown and fragrant with warm spices.
Bowls of icing sat beside jars of glittering sprinkles that caught the Christmas lights strung around the room.
"These are gorgeous, Isla," Sierra sighed, carefully piping white icing around the edge of a reindeer-shaped cookie. She focused on creating perfectly scalloped edges.
"Seriously," Estelle agreed, wielding a knife to spread emerald green frosting across a Christmas tree cookie. "I've never made anything that looked this good. But that’s also because Leo and Avery beg to decorate them.”
I laughed, dipping a small brush into edible gold dust to add shimmering details to a bell-shaped cookie.
"That's what practice is for. Plus, the secret is having the right consistency in your icing. Too thick and it won't spread; too thin and it just runs everywhere."
The kitchen was alive with our chatter and the soft vocals of Nat King Cole crooning about chestnuts roasting on an open fire.
Cinnamon, vanilla, and brown butter still lingered in the air, mixing with the sweet aroma of icing and the occasional whiff of coffee from the pot brewing all morning.
“Red sprinkles, please,” Sierra requested, holding out her hand while keeping her eyes fixed on the delicate work of adding details to her reindeer. "I'm making him into a little Santa."
After a few minutes, Estelle abandoned her artwork and created what could only be described asabstractart with her frosting, swirling colors together.
"I've decided to make one in honor of Leo,” she announced with a grin.
