“Down.”
He’s still not giving me everything, but I don’t have the patience to argue with him. I devour him, loving every twitch and groan. His hole is a tight bud, and I lick at it until it softens enough for me to push inside him.
His shout is muffled, like he’s biting his hand or something, so I go a little deeper. Unable to hold himself like that any longer, he finally gives me his full weight, allowing me to properly tongue fuck him.
He whimpers and shifts above me, the telltale sound of jacking off music to my ears.
“So close, so close,” he chants, clenching around my tongue as hot cum hits my belly.
I thrust my tongue inside him until he jerks away, shivering and overstimulated. I roll him to his back and straddle him, then wipe the cum from my belly with my palm, licking it as I capture his glazed over eyes.
“Can’t… believe…” he starts, unable to connect the words.
I wink at him. “I love, love, love eating ass. You can sit on my face any time.”
He nods, pulling me up for a dirty, filthy kiss as he finger fucks my used hole. “Soon. Soon we’ll fuck each other till we’re both dripping,” he slurs, his words drifting off as he slow-blinks into oblivion.
Within seconds he’s out, and I follow him just as quickly.
We don’t sleep for long because Adrian is back less than an hour later, stomping around the house. Tolly tightens his grip on me, kisses me, then slides out of bed. Grinning like a masochist, he flings open the heavy drapes and lets in the cold winter light.
I throw myself under the thick homemade duvet, cursing him in English and Spanish.
“Darling, there’s nothing more beautiful than fresh snow on Christmas morning.”
I peek out from my blanket fortress. “There’s fresh snow?”
“Yes, dear,” he says, slipping on a robe as he looks outside, appearing nothing like the man who impaled himself on my tongue an hour ago.
Slowly and with bitter complaint I rise and shuffle next to him by the window.
“It’s like a movie,” I whisper. “Also, is that breakfast I smell?”
He tugs me into a cozy hug, kissing my nose and forehead. “Yes, darling. Also? Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” I murmur in return, protesting when he drapes a robe around my shoulders but then snuggling into its warmth.
We step into our Gael Hernandez original slippers and make our way downstairs as Adrian and Dimitra’s three boys file into the dining room. We’re introduced and I find them as warm and kind as their parents.
Heli, which I discover is short for Helios, their oldest, greets Tolly with an effusive hug.
“How’s Bea?” he asks, tucking his hands into his pockets.
Huh. Interesting.
Before Tolly can answer, he’s swamped on both sides by Heli’s taller and stouter younger brothers, who give Tolly a tight hug.
“Gentlemen, please. My spine,” he says dryly.
They laugh and squeeze harder, and I join in on the merriment, giggling at the scene, and all grumpiness from the early morning vanishes.
Tolly leans down and whispers to me in Spanish, “Growing up, I was always amazed at how many people could fit around their table when you really tried.”
“Just like at my abuela’s house.”
Even though the dining room is crowded, no one complains because they’re too busy talking and joking and trying to one up each other.
Greetings out of the way, we tuck into the fantastic breakfast Heli cooked for us. The bacon is thick, the eggs are fresh, and the coffee is hearty. Apparently, he apprenticed at the manor before becoming a head chef at a local cafe.
