Page 83 of Fake it 'Til Christmas
I smile, kiss her one more time—soft and lingering—then roll off the bed long enough to grab her purse.She watches me, flushed and still open, her legs falling wider across the rumpled sheets like she’s never been more ready.
I find the foil packet, rip it open, and roll the condom on with a shaky hand.My cock is thick and aching, flushed with how badly I want her—but I don’t rush.
She deserves more than that.
When I settle between her thighs again, her hands are on my chest.Her eyes, still hazy with release, don’t look away from mine.
“You okay?”I ask, brushing my thumb along her jaw.
She nods, then whispers, “I want you.All of you.”
Fuck.My heart nearly gives out at that.
I kiss her once—deep, slow—then brace myself on my forearms as I guide the head of my cock to her entrance.
She gasps the second we touch.
I hold still.Let her feel me there.Let the moment stretch.
“I’m going slow,” I murmur.“If it’s too much?—”
“Don’t stop,” she whispers.“I need to feel you.”
So I do.
I push in, inch by inch, watching her face the entire time.Her mouth parts.Her breath catches.Her hands slide up my back and hold on.
And I lose my fucking mind.
She’s so warm.So tight.The pressure wraps around me like a vice, stealing every coherent thought.Even through the condom, the feel of her makes me forget every reason we shouldn’t be doing this.There’s nothing between us now but want.Need—maybe even love.
Love that I’m not afraid to feel.
“You feel like heaven,” I groan, dragging my hips forward, slowly sinking deeper until I’m fully seated inside her.
I stay there.Still.Let her adjust.Let myself adjust.
Her arms wrap around me.Her legs hook around my waist.Her lips brush my jaw as she breathes, “Move, Soren.”
So I do.
Long, slow strokes at first.Every inch of me pulling out, then sliding back in until our hips meet again and again.Her body rises to meet mine like we’ve done this before.Like we’ve always been meant to.
I kiss her as I move—her mouth, her cheek, her neck—anywhere I can reach.
“You’re perfect,” I whisper.“You feel so fucking good.I could stay inside you forever.”
She moans, hips rolling to meet every thrust.And when I look down at her—really look—I see everything.Her need.Her trust.Her undoing.
“Win,” I say, voice thick.“Look at me.”
Her eyes lock on mine.And for a second, nothing else exists.
Just us.
Connected.
I slow my thrusts until it’s more grind than rhythm—until it feels like we’re breathing together, our bodies synced like a tide neither of us controls.Every time I roll into her, she gasps, her back arching just enough to drive me deeper.Just enough to unravel me.
