Page 12 of A Merry Brutal Christmas

“You know, I think we need to sneak in another round of role-playing before I pack.” He leans in and bites my earlobe. “You can frisk me for contraband.”

I snort, shoving him away. “You're insatiable.”

He has a point because since I got here, he’s been the one fucking me. And I need to return the favor, especially with how fucking hot Jackson looks when riding my cock.

Clearing my throat, I return to the room and watch my sisters open their gifts. I smile, looking at our families, at everyone laughing and getting along.

Then I wrap my arm around my boyfriend, pulling him into my lap. We'll face whatever comes next—distance, careers, challenges—together.

Jackson leans back against my chest. “Merry Christmas, jackass.”

“Merry Christmas, fucktard.”