Page 54 of A Loser by Christmas
I get busy then. Not with my zips or buttons. And not with digging out the lube we used once already. I get busy storing away the sight of him for when...
Undressing is better than thinking about time limits.
I do it so fast my cock bounces when I finally fall backwards onto the mattress, and this time, Calum doesn’t save me. He stands at the edge of the bed, looming and large. I like that almost as much as seeing his cock is hard for me already.
“Two out of ten for grace.” He tilts his head, considering, one hand wrapped around his dick to give it a slow stroke while judging my performance. “Ten out of ten for enthusiasm.”
I love this look on him, full of teasing humour, even if I do have to drag my gaze from the motion of his fist to see it.
Looking into his eyes is worth it.
They’re so warm.
Only an opponent could mistake them for something cooler. Happiness radiates from him, his flush a reminder of the pink proof of life he got up extra early to deliver. Now he looks at me like I’m equally special.
“So fucking pretty.”
That fist around his dick picks up speed, and I know he already fixed my cabin heater, but fuck me, I’m suddenly hot all over. The temperature increases when he lets go of his dick and drops onto the bed to brace one-handed above me and give me something else I didn’t know I needed this December.
Calum lets me take his weight. His body is a crushing blanket, and I can’t breathe, but I also can’t make myself care about inhaling or exhaling. Right now, all I want is this full-body contact with a man who hits first and asks questions never, but who also just got teary with me over an unborn duckling.
I’m covered by someone the media labels as fierce.Kissed by the player who put theHoin hockey.And it’s thatHowho gets physical with me until I’m voiceless in both French or English.
My brain scrambles, and not only due to ratcheting arousal that pulls all my blood south.I can’t think, full stop. Don’t have enough air in my lungs to speak, even if I could string words together, until he shifts position.
He rolls so I’m on top. Then I do suck in greedy lungfuls of air like I once did after his brother hauled me out of the English Channel.
I’m extra grateful today for Reece. And for a video I didn’t know would go viral. It’s the reason we’re here in a rapidly emptying marina—and it is emptying fast now.
I hear so. Engines fire up close by, other crews heading home to get their Christmas started, which would normally make me wish for La Rochelle so badly.
Today, I wouldn’t be anywhere else in the world but here with this Trelawney.
I can’t dress that up to be pretty like Calum just called me. It’s ugly how much I want him. Or wild, like my bone-deep need to touch him. I can’t fight it. Don’t even want to, so I explore everything spread out beneath me.
At least, I start to.
Calum grabs one of my hands, dragging it away from the base of his throat, where his usually steady pulse now skips and flutters. He steers my palm on the kind of journey we’ve made up and down the Thames so often together. Calum guides my palm over the swell of pecs built by years of training. His obliques bump underneath my fingers like we’ve bumped over boat wakes. Most mortals have some softness to their bellies. His is a shield, a wall built by genetics before experts trained in extra layers of toughness.
Under my palm, Calum quivers.
His breath stutters, which could be hesitation about us banging. I’ll be his first for that too, but his dick seems to reach for my touch, and I have no problem with taking over this exploration. Today, he can have every single thing on his wish list.
“Yeah?”
That growl fits his online image. His face tells another story—his truth—and I don’t need more daylight to see it. I feel the heat of his flush when I lean down to kiss him again. The lobe of his ear is scorching. It’s also as soft as velvet, but doesn’t that describe someone who knelt on ice to share all his senses with a kid who might lose what is left of her vision?
“Oui,” I tell him, and I mean it. “Anything you want is good with me.”
That scores me a strangled sound, as if my hand had never left his throat.
“Anything?” Calum finds my dick, perhaps checking if I’m on board with us going further than we have already. His hand coming away damp and glistening must clue him in to my own truth. I’m more than on board after he licks that dampness and smiles.
That’s what I should lock away to remember when he’s on the far side of the Atlantic. He tops that deeply sexual moment by asking a rough-sounding question.
“What if...” His smile flickers. I can’t blame that on my boat’s electrical wiring. This flicker is him getting honest. “What if I wanted you to do me?” His lips quirk upwards, but his eyes tell me his whole story.
I wouldn’t have known how to read him ahead of this Christmas season. I’ve learned his silent language frame by frame, no need for him to say a single word for me to translate what this means. He goes ahead and tells me out loud. “If that’s something you’d even want to do.”
