“Merry Christmas,” she whispers, already sliding down my body.
“Dez—” My protest dies when her mouth closes over me. “Holy hell.”
She takes me deep, tracing every throbbing vein with her tongue. I grip the sheets, fighting the urge to buck into the tight, velvety warmth of her throat. Her mouth is a perfect, obscene torrent of wet heat and sloppy desire, saliva dripping down my shaft, embodying everything I’ve fantasized about.
“Wanted to do this last night,” she murmurs, pulling off just long enough to speak before taking me again. “Wanted to taste you.”
I thread my fingers through her braids, guiding her rhythm. She hums around me, the vibration sending jolts straight to my balls, and it nearly undoes me.
“Dez, I’m close—”
She doesn’t pull away. Just takes me deeper, hollowing her cheeks, her eyes meeting mine.
I come with a groan, my abs clenching as I spill down her throat, legs trembling and vision blurring with the force of it. She swallows every drop greedily, her throat muscles working around me in rhythmic pulses, milking every spasm.
When she emerges, looking thoroughly pleased with herself, I’m still trying to remember how to breathe.
“Good morning to you too,” I manage.
She wipes the corner of her mouth with her thumb. “I keep my promises.”
“DADDY! MOMMY! WAKE UP! IT’S Christmas!”
We both freeze as tiny footsteps approach. Desiree dives beside me while I yank the sheet higher.
Desiree covers her head with the blanket just as the three younger kids burst through the door, Bella leading the charge.
“Santa came!” Isa shouts. “There are presents everywhere!”
After making love last night, Desiree and I had crept downstairs to find Gina and Maverick already there, eating the cookies and milk the kids left for Santa.
We’d all hauled gifts in from the basement storage, laughing quietly as we arranged presents under the tree, four exhausted parents playing Santa while our kids slept.
Now, apparently, they’ve discovered the fruits of our labor.
I sit up, very aware that Desiree and I are both naked under these covers. “Okay, okay. Give us twenty minutes to get dressed. Go wake up your parents.”
“They’re already up!” Asher protests. “Even Gran is here!”
“Twenty minutes,” I repeat firmly. “Go start sorting presents.”
They thunder out, and Desiree emerges from the covers, braids wild and eyes wider. “Oh my God, Bella saw us in bed together!”
“So?” I pull her against me. “We’re her parents.”
“But—”
“No buts. You said yes last night. No more hiding.” I kiss her quickly. “Besides, she didn’t even question finding you here.”
“Because she’s five and focused on presents,” Desiree mutters, but she’s smiling.
We shower and dress quickly—me in sweatpants and a Christmas sweater, her in the jeans and sweater she’d brought from her room when we came back to bed last night. She looks fuckable.
“Stop looking at me like that,” she warns. “We have children waiting.”
“Later,” I promise, stealing one more kiss.
The living room is in disarray. The tree is now surrounded by a mountain of wrapped gifts, and five eager kids are practically vibrating with excitement.
