Page 91 of Christmas Crisis
“Damn.”
“You like the dirty talk?”
“I didn’t know until just this minute, but yeah. It’s sexy as hell.”
“I’ll make a list. We have a lot of fun ahead of us, figuring stuff out."
“Looking forward to that.”
“Me too.”
He stopped talking and began pumping his hips in earnest. Fifteen seconds later, I came hard, shuddering with pleasure.
“Oh fuck!” He cried out as my muscles contracted around him, loudly enough that I put my hand over his mouth, glancing at the bedroom door. “Oh fuck.” This time, he whisper-shouted, squeezing his eyes shut. I felt the pulsing of his cock, four distinct shots as he unloaded before collapsing onto my torso.
As much as I liked his weight on me, he was twice my size. I tapped his biceps, and he rolled off. Stretching my arm out to grab his discarded white T-shirt from the floor, I put it under my butt. At his quizzical look, I laughed. “I don’t come with a plug, Bear. The minute your dick came out, so did about half of yourdeposit.” I winked. “Sex is a messy business sometimes. In a perfect world, we’d have quicker access to hand towels, but sometimes you have to improvise.”
“You can joke about it being messy, or awkward, or whatever, but what we just did—it was perfect. I never knew it could be like that.”
“It was perfect,” I murmured, meaning it. “It’s never been like that for me either.”
“Really?”
The vulnerability in his voice tugged at me. My heart clenched for early twentysomething Leo trying to figure himself out, being told he was less than. I’d show him that his lack of experience was a chance for us to explore and be playful. Not something bad.
Leaning over and kissing his chest, I snuggled into his side. “Really. You were wrong on Halloween when you implied that I had a lot of options. When it comes to being the best versionof myself, there’s only one. Only you. Anything else would be playacting.”
Chapter twenty-five
Leo
NOW
We’d had great weather all week while putting together the booths and preparing Main Street for the Holiday Hoopla. Saturday dawned clear and cool, promising an event where folks could soak up the atmosphere while warding off the chill with hot chocolate and apple cider.
Maureen and Will had come to dinner at the house last night. She told me about a Hoopla during her teen years when itrained so hard that the rides shut down, but people still gathered around the city tree to sing carols and mingle with neighbors.
“It was basically Whoville. Teenage me thought it was so embarrassing,” she said. “But I see the charm now.”
“A few years ago, my students would have said it wascringe,” Marley added.
“They don’t say that anymore?” I asked.
“It’s acceptable, but not the current word of choice,” James answered ridiculously.
“What is?”
In unison, Marley and James responded, “Corny.”
“I like that.” Miranda grinned. “It’s a classic.”
“You’re a classic,” I said, leaning down to kiss the juncture of her neck and shoulder. She giggled. Under usual circumstances, I was as skeptical ofcornythings as teenaged Maureen, but since I’d spent the past few days being openly in love with Miranda—and the nights making love with her—I was in the mood to be charmed.
Like James and Will, who had been dedicated city-dwellers before moving here, I’d succumbed to Coleman Creek’s Christmas magic. That was in addition to the fact that, also like them, I was firmly under the spell of one of the Davis sisters.
Being with Miranda physically was a revelation. She never let me get in my head, never indicated that having my bedroom skills be a work in progress was anything other than an adventure.
I felt in tune with my body in a way I'd never been before and was gaining a new understanding of myself.
