“Dane… stop talking.”
“Now who’s being bossy? Tell me then, babe. What should I do with my mouth?”
“Make me come.”
“How many times?”
“How many… what?”
“Tell me how many orgasms you’d like tonight.”
That’s an embarrassing question and I’m not sure how to answer it. Until last night I’d never experienced more than one during a sexual encounter. Asking for two again? That might be pushing my luck. “Uh, one?”
“Nope, not enough.” He strokes his fingers along my inner thighs and over the pooch of my lower abdomen, avoiding where I need him so badly. “I think we should aim for at least three. It’s early. The winter nights are long. So, yeah. Three. How’s that sound, babe?”
“Good. I think.”
“You don’t need to think. Just feel and experience.” He lifts my legs over his shoulders and slides me even closer to the edge, spreading my folds to expose me. He stares for a long time then lifts his gaze to mine. “You are so beautiful.”
His mouth on me makes me feel the truth of his words. At least for him. I don’t need to be beautiful for anyone else. Only him.
Using his mouth and his fingers, he’s relentless, bringing me almost to a release then pulling me back. Each time he presses a hand below my navel and praises me. I try to talk, to argue, to beg him to finish me but I’m so tightly wound my words have become incoherent sighs and pleas.
“Are you ready for number one, my sweet December?”
“Yes,” I manage. “Please, oh… please… let me, make me…”
“Come,” he says, then with his fingers moving against my inner walls, he sucks hard on my clit.
I arch from the bed with a keen of release. I crush the bedding in my fists and arch again as a second wave pours over me. Dane holds me steady and licks at my entrance, humming approval.
When I think my voice will work I stroke his head. “You don’t have to do that.”
He lifts his head. Moisture sparkles in his short beard and his tongue glides over his lips. “Oh, but I do. I’m addicted to you. To the way you taste. Don’t deny me, please.”
“I would never. It’s just…” I don’t know if I should say this or not.
Dane speaks instead. “No one has ever told you how delicious you are, have they? Damn fools. But, that’s good for me. Because I could eat you every day for the rest of my life.”
He pauses then untangles himself from under my legs and after encouraging me to reposition myself leaning against the headboard, sits next to me. He takes my hand and plays with my fingers. “I mean what I say, December. Every day. The rest of my life. I don’t know how it’s possible but I’ve fallen for you. Fallen in love.”
He loves me? I close my eyes and breathe a silent prayer of thanks to the universe. This—the love of a good man is what I’ve tried to manifest.
“Deca, babe, I love you. I don’t expect for you to feel the same way. A couple days isn’t a logical amount of time to feel emotionally bound to another person. I can’t believe I’m the one defying logic. What have you done to me, my solstice dancer?”
“I didn’t mean… oh, Dane. You’re who I thought I’d never find. I’m sometimes too impulsive?—”
“You, impulsive?” He laughs and the tension, the fear of doing the wrong thing melts away. “I think that’s one of the things I love about you.”
“And I love how I feel more grounded around you. I don’t feel quite so scattered or hopeless. Yes, two days is fast, but not necessarily for me. I think I fell in love with you when you took care of me, wrapped my ankle.”
His expression is filled with tentative hope. I run the back of my fingers along his bearded jaw. “To put it as plain and simple as I can… Dane, I love you.”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a few condoms. “Want to celebrate our love, my sweet December?”
We do. Long and slow. Fast and satisfying. All night long.
The next day is Christmas eve and while Dane takes care of things for the lodge, I ask one of the staff to bring me a small casefrom the trunk of my car. I rush through my project, finishing up wrapping the gift only minutes before he returns to the room. He sheds his suit coat and sinks onto the couch.
