Page 46 of Holiday Interference
I lift her by the hips, her legs wrapping around me, and set her on the counter.
Her breath hitches when I grind against her, hard and desperate, and her nails dig into my shoulders.
“God, you feel good,” she whispers, forehead resting against mine.
“You haven’t seen anything yet,” I growl.
She gets rid of her panties and I shove my boxers down just enough until my cock springs free and her eyes widen.
“Shit, Cal. You’re…”
“Don’t worry, baby. It’ll fit. I promise.”
I grab a condom from the drawer—don’t ask me how I remember, or why they’re in my kitchen because my brain is pure static.
She takes it from me and rolls it on with shaking hands, her breath coming in small pants. Then she reaches between us, guides me in?—
And I lose every last ounce of control.
I slide inside her in one long, slick thrust. She’s hot and tight and clenching around me like she’smeantfor this.
We both groan—loud and unfiltered.
She grips my shoulders as I start to move, fucking her sharp and deep, her heels pressing into my back to keep me close.
The cabinets rattle, and the whole fucking world shrinks to this.
My name on her lips. Her breath in my mouth. The wet heat of her body dragging me toward the edge again and again.
We don’t last long.
She tightens around me, moaning, eyes locked on mine—and I snap, hips jerking, vision going white as I spill into her with a hoarse shout.
For a long beat, we don’t move. Just stay there, bodies locked, breath mingling. Her forehead against mine. Her hand stroking the back of my neck.
Then she kisses me—softer this time. Slower.
“You okay?” I ask, voice rasped to hell.
She nods, with a smile that lights me up. “Better than okay.”
I press my mouth to her shoulder, then lift her off the counter and carry her down the hall.
To my bed.
Because yeah—we’re not done.
She’s still clinging to me, arms around my neck, lips swollen from kissing, skin flushed and damp from the kitchen.
Her head rests against my shoulder as I carry her down the hall—barely five steps, but it feels like crossing a line I can’t uncross.
I kick the bedroom door closed with my heel. The sound clicks loud in the silence.
She doesn’t let go.
I lower her to the bed, but she doesn’t sink into it like before. She stays upright, hands on my chest, eyes tracking mine like she’s afraid I’ll vanish. Like this will.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I murmur, brushing her hair back. My fingers tremble from the come-down, from what she just gave me.
