Page 60 of Tied Up In Tinsel
“Fuck, Annie… you’re so good.” My voice was raw, jagged, stripped down to need. “Look at you, thanking me on you’re fucking knees.”
She pulled off me with a wet pop, lips shining, breath ragged. A string of spit clung from her mouth to my tip, and she smirked before licking it clean.
“I told you,” she said, voice husky, “I wanted to show you how grateful I am.”
Before I could reply, she took me back into her mouth, faster this time, messy and desperate. Saliva slicked her chin, dripping down onto her chest as she worked me with both her mouth and her hand, stroking and twisting as she sucked me deep.
My thighs locked, abs tightening. I was so close it scared me.
“That’s it, baby. Take it. Take every fucking inch.” My hand tightened in her hair, controlling the rhythm now, fucking into her mouth while she let me. Her nails dug into my thighs, urging me on, like she needed me to lose it for her.
I hissed through my teeth, the sight of her wrecked and devoted on her knees too much to handle. “Don’t stop… oh fuck, Annie?—”
Heat coiled tight in my spine, about to snap.
My thighs trembled as Annie hollowed her cheeks, taking me deeper, faster, until I was fucking her mouth in rough, desperate thrusts. Her nails dug crescents into my skin, holding me there, begging me to lose control.
“Goddamn it,” I groaned, voice breaking. “You’re gonna make me—fuck?—”
She moaned around me, the vibration pushing me over the edge. My grip tightened in her hair as I thrust once, twice, then spilled down her throat with a guttural growl.
Hot spurts filled her mouth, and she swallowed like she’d been waiting for it, taking everything I gave her. My vision blurred as the fire ripped through me, every nerve alive, every ounce of me claimed by her lips.
Annie pulled back just enough to let the last of me spill across her tongue, a line of cum slipping down her chin. Her eyes stayed locked on mine, daring, proud, as she licked me clean with one long, filthy swipe of her tongue.
“Fuck,” I rasped, chest heaving, still shuddering from the aftershocks. “You look so goddamn perfect like this.”
She smirked, wiping her chin with her hand, then deliberately licked her fingers.
I pulled her up from the floor, crushing my mouth to hers, tasting myself on her tongue. My hand fisted in her hair, my other arm around her waist, pressing her body flush to mine.
“You think we’re done, Red?” I growled against her lips, cock already twitching back to life from the taste of her wicked mouth. “That was just the start.”
Brooks
The clock on the mantel read 4:42 a.m. The house was quiet, but not for long. Down the hall, I knew Ruby was curled up in her bed, cocooned in blankets, twitching with the kind of anticipation only a seven-year-old could carry on Christmas. Any second, she’d spring awake, barreling down the stairs in search of Santa’s magic.
Which meant Annie and I had work to do.
“Brooks!” Annie whispered, arms stacked with boxes as she tiptoed through the living room. Her red flannel pajama pants were twisted around her legs, hair messy from sleep, but her eyes sparkled like she was a kid herself. “Don’t just stand there. Grab those bags!”
I jumped, clutching the handle of a big gift bag overflowing with tissue paper. “Yes, ma’am,” I muttered with a grin, following her lead.
The living room was dark except for the twinkle lights on the Christmas tree. Gold, green, and red sparkled against the ornaments decorating the tree. The stockings swayed on the fireplace mantle, fat with small surprises Annie had packed. And the air carried that quiet hush, the kind that felt sacred—like the house itself knew what day it was.
We set the gifts down under the tree, working quickly, whispering like two co-conspirators. Annie knelt on, arranging the presents so the bigger ones fanned out behind and the smaller ones peeked in front. Her hands were efficient, but her smile gave her away—she was enjoying every second.
“You know,” I said, crouching beside her, “you’ve got more of Santa in you than you realize.”
She shot me a look over her shoulder, cheeks flushing. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m serious. The planning, the lists, the magic… you’ve been at this pretty damn hard.” I nudged a shiny box toward her. “You don’t even need a sleigh.”
“Seven years of practice does that to you,” she murmured, but I could tell she was pleased.
I reached into one of the bags and pulled out the plush pony. Its mane gleamed soft and white under the tree lights. Annie gasped softly, brushing her fingers over it.
“Brooks…” she whispered, her throat tight. “She’s going to lose her mind.”
