Page 46 of Christmas With The Kings
“Fuck,” I groaned over and over. The sound of skin slapping against skin, mixing with our moans, filled the space between us.
Tremors wracked her entire body, her toes scrunched, and I knew she wouldn’t be able to hold back any longer. I slapped her ass once more for good measure.
My thumb found her clit and stroked. “Come for me, baby girl.”
And my girl did not disappoint. She screamed and clawed at my shoulders as her orgasm ripped through her as a rush of liquid covered my legs.
God, I loved making her squirt. It made me feral. My hand moved back to her hips lightning quick as I thrust up, unwilling to hold back any longer.
I slammed into her relentlessly, riding out the waves of her pussy clenching around me, choking my cock. “Fuck, baby,” I growled before exploding.
Sweet relief filled my entire body as my balls gave way. I didn’t stop until I was fully drained. I pressed soft kisses across her breasts, which I somehow marked in several places. My lips found hers, and I kissed her sweetly.
She pulled back, gasping, and slumped against my chest. Our skin was slick, our breaths ragged and uneven. Her legs trembled as they clenched tighter. I tightened my arms around her in response. My hands smoothed up and down her back, slow and steady, anchoring her while our hearts raced in tandem.
Her forehead pressed to the crook of my neck, damp strands of hair clinging to her temples. I felt the soft exhale of her breath against my throat.
Neither of us spoke. The only sounds were the faint crackle of the fire, the creak of the chaise beneath us, and our panting—hers shallow and fast, mine low and deep.
She shifted, the movement sent a final shiver through both of us. I rubbed a hand down her spine and kissed her shoulder, letting it linger. God, I loved this woman.
I rocked her, and in the quiet, I whispered. “Happy Christmas, malyshka.”
Kinsley
I was mid-flip, pancake sizzling golden in the pan, when I heard footsteps in the hall. The kind that promised trouble…or mischief. Probably both.
Soft Christmas carols drifted from the speaker behind me. My heart felt full. I smiled to myself, expecting Nik to sneak up on me, put his arms around my waist, and mouth to my ear like he always did when I cooked. He’d been hovering all morning, looking far too pleased with himself.
But as I reached for the eggs, a deep baritone sliced clean through the cozy domesticity. “Time for you to sod off, brother.”
I yelped. Like a full-body jolt, heart-leaping-into-throat yelp before whirling around.
There he was. My beloved.
He filled the doorway like a storm rolling in. Towering, broad, and untouchably calm. My stomach flipped so hard I actually felt a little dizzy. The butterflies that wore his name on their tiny wings exploded in every direction.
Our eyes locked. His were dark, intense, hungry in that quiet, anchored way only the Blade could pull off. Heat rushed up my neck, and wasn’t from the stovetop.
Nik, still seated at the table, gave him a look—half amused, half resigned. “Already? We haven’t even had breakfast.”
Ivan strode forward like a man on a mission, not even breaking stride. “You’ll survive. Find a drive-thru.” He tossed a glance at the food as if it were a mere suggestion, not a full spread. Then, withoutceremony, he grabbed Nik by the collar and hauled him to his feet with brotherly ease. “You had her all day yesterday. My turn.”
I stared at them, one brow raised, spatula still in hand. “You know, youcouldinvite him to stay.”
Ivan reached me and leaned down, placing a kiss on the crown of my head, his palm settling warmly against the small of my back. “Nope. We eat with him all the time. Today is about us. Go on, Crow. Kiss her one more time, then get out.”
Nik grumbled under his breath and sent me a teasing wink. “You should make him cook. But don’t let him near the eggs. And please drink your water today.”
I rolled my eyes, but it was all affection. “Yes, Daddy.” I smirked, tiptoed to kiss him, and whispered, “Love you.”
His mouth brushed mine, tender and sweet. “Love you more.” Then he was gone, leaving me alone with my Blade King.
Ivan plucked a piece of fruit from the bowl I’d chopped earlier and popped it into his mouth without asking, completely unfazed by the kitchen chaos he’d walked into.
He leaned against the counter with an easy confidence, like this was another ordinary morning—not one where he’d bulldozed his way past Nik and taken over without blinking.
I cracked the last egg into the mixing bowl and tossed him the spatula. “You’re on pancake duty now, Sir,” I said sweetly, giving his hip a playful nudge with my body. “I don’t trust you with the eggs. Not even a little.”
