Chapter
Twenty-Three
CELESTE
Quinton crawls onto the bed, collecting me up onto his hips as he goes. We’re in the center of the mattress, me straddling his lap as he rocks back onto his heels. His mouth finds my peak, andfuck. My head falls back, eyes shuttering closed as pure bliss sinks into my chest.
“Quinnie,” I rasp.
“Mhmmm.” The sound reverberates between my rib cage, sinking somewhere deep.
“Do we need something?”
He loses the peak with a pop and looks up. “It’s been over six years since I’ve... I’m clean, baby.”
“Same. And I have an IUD, so . . .”
“Fuck, I so wanted you bare. Guess my Christmas wish is about to come true.” The shit-eating grin on his face is melting my soul. Even more so when it fades to desperation.
I can’t wait a second longer.
I line the tip of his cock to my aching, soaked entrance. “Then makeminecome true already, will you?”
He grabs my hips, stalling my movements. “And what exactly does this Christmas wish entail, Celeste?”
“You, me. On every surface we can find.”
He drops his forehead to my chest with a groan. “You are literally fucking perfect, woman.”
I loose a huffy chuckle and wriggle in his hold, wanting to lower down.
“Uh-uh. In a minute. There’s no rush.” His blues are dark. The brush of his tip against my entrance is blissful torture. All I want is to feel him inside me.
And there absolutely is a rush on this, Quinton.
I’m burning up alive here.
“Come on,” I whisper. “Give in to me, sweet man.”
He grunts, the sound straining as his throat bobs. His eyes close as his grip on my hips fades.
Threading my fingers through his hair, I dot kisses over his neck before my lips brush against his ear. “Let go, Quinnie.”
His eyes drift open and his jaw feathers. “On one condition.”
I peck his lips, hands grasping his jawline as I utter, “What’s that?”
“Let me love you the way you deserve, Celeste.”
And... heavens above.ThatI didn’t expect. Emotion steals the air in my lungs, prickles blooming behind the bridge of my nose.
Knuckles brush over my cheek as Quin’s gaze holds mine. The second his hand leaves my face, it reaffirms on my hip.
And I’m slammed down.
He thrusts up, sinks up to the hilt, and leaves my empty lungs starved on a choppy gasp.
“Fucking hell, baby,” he growls, holding me motionless as we both adjust, heaving through each desperate breath. “Dammit, don’t you move. Give me a second.”
