Page 12 of Polar Prank
I groan. “Brinker, I need you.”
“You do?”
I look over at that smug grin and I just want to kiss it off his face.
So I do.
“I need you, too, Iclyn,” he says as he slides over me. “I don’t have a condom.”
“I’m covered, if you’re clean.”
“I am.”
I lift my ass and wiggle against the tip of his cock, slipping a leg over his ass.
“You little tease…” he groans.
“Brinker, if you don’t?—”
He pushes into my body with one long thrust, bottoming out and my back arches.
His lips caress my neck. “Like that?”
All I can do is thrash in the bed. Every molecule of my body lighting on fire.
The room is filled with the scent of pine and the faint echo of holiday melodies from the street below. The world outside seems distant, almost dreamlike, as if nothing exists beyond the warmth of our embrace. The steady rhythm of his heart thuds against my chest, a comforting beat that seems to sync with my own.
Every second is a new sensation I’ve never known. Different and remarkable.
My fingers trace the line of his jaw as his cock slowly rocks in and out of my body, the stubble rough against my fingertips, a stark contrast to the softness of his lips. The lights from the Christmas tree cast dancing shadows on his face, highlighting the lines that years hard work and worry has etched into his skin. His lashes flutter closed, his breath hitching as I explore his body, my hands tracing over his pecs, down his washboard abs, and around to his taut ass.
“I’ve wanted to touch this ass… like from day one.”
“Oh yeah?”
“And it’s just as amazing as I imagined.”
He laughs, like a heartfelt chuckle. “Is there… is there anything I can do to help you…”
I giggle. “Just keep doing that… and kiss me.”
His lips seal to mine and the pounding of my heart echoes in my ears. The flannel sheets, soft from countless washes, brush against my skin as I lift both legs to wrap around his ass, pulling him in deeper. The room is a cocoon of warmth, a sanctuary from the cold outside and the loneliness that has been my constant companion for so long. Every sensation swells, from the gentle rustle of the sheets to the distant hum of Christmas carols floating up from the street.
Brinker’s touch is deliberate, almost reverent, as if he is learning every inch of me, committing the moment to memory. When he cups my breast, I shiver— not from the cold, but from something startlingly close to awe. His tongue tickles the nipple, teasing and torturing in the best ways. He presses his lips to the hollow of my neck, the stubble on his chin creating a friction that sends arcs of sensation all the way to my fingertips. I melt into all of it, each breath turning into a soft sound that mingled with the faint melody of “Silent Night” playing somewhere down the block.
Brinker shifts, and I feel the full solidity of him. Sheer muscle and hard bone of a man who never once let the world soften him. He slips his hands under me and lifts me as he rocks back on his haunches and now I’m on his lap, our bodies crashing together. His palm splays at the small of my back, traveling upward along my spine, his fingers tracing the ridges as if counting them like beads on a necklace. My heart thuds against my ribs, startled by its own eagerness, and I have to close my eyes to settle it.
He's just so beautiful. I knew he would be. It’s those who are closed off and protected that want to give the most to and feel the most from others.
No one has ever touched me like this, with care and conviction. Lovers came and went— some rushed, some tentative, none intending to stay. But Brinker seems to bebuilding something in the space between our bodies, a slow, careful layering of trust, as if he understands how easily I can shatter and feel alone again. He nuzzles my collarbone, then pauses, searching my face for a sign— anything that might tell him it was okay to keep going.
Outside, the wind howls against the window, but inside, I’m caressed in heat. I arch my back, giving myself over to the gravity of connection, enjoying the way our bodies fit together and how deep he drives to bring us together. My clit rubs inbetween his body and his cock as I hold him closely, preparing to break. Murmured words slip out of his mouth.
So beautiful.
Fuck, this feels great.
Yes, sweetheart, yes.
