“Yes. Please. I need you,” I whimper.
“How do you want me?” he growls. I hum in response, barely able to form words. “Do you want it hard, sweetheart?”
“Yes.” I pant.
He slides into me. His eyes hood as he begins to move, hard and fast, pumping a rhythm that leaves me arching beneath him, a helpless sound escaping my lips. A soft sheen of sweat glistens on our bodies as we move in sync.
“God, I’ll never get over how tight you are,” he says.
“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” I whisper, my voice breathless as I feel the hot build of my orgasm. The bed creaks with each thrust, and I drape my arms around his shoulders, pulling him down to crush his lips against mine. My orgasm begins to swell, and I dig my fingers into his shoulders.
“Are you gonna come, April? Right here with my brother next door? Do you want him to hear me fucking you?”
Good God. That’s all it takes to send me over the edge. I grip his biceps tightly as my climax crashes over me and I spasm around his cock.
When the waves finally subside, he flips us over so he’s on his back, guiding me to straddle his thighs. My skin is flushed from the orgasm. I grip his cock, lowering myself onto him once more. We both grunt as I sink down, taking him fully.
I plant my hands on his broad chest as I start rocking my hips and bouncing up and down on top of him, his thick cock hitting that sensitive spot inside me with every thrust. He grips my hips in a bruising hold as I gyrate on top of him. He slides a hand down, his fingers dipping into the wetness where we’re joined. Then, he brings those calloused fingers up to my clit, circling it slowly. I gasp as I ride him, feeling the muscles in his thighs tense beneath me.
The sensation of him filling me is too good.
He grunts, his breathing ragged. “I’m close, baby. So close.”
“Me too.” I pant, the tension coiling tightly in my stomach. He continues drawing circles over me. I arch my back, climaxing again. Lifting my hips, he ruts into me, hard and fast, chasing his own release. With a long, guttural groan, he shudders, emptying himself inside me.
Once we’re both fully spent, I drape myself over him, chest to chest, and bury my face in the curve of his neck. His hands trail slowly up and down my back, causing me to shiver. He kisses my temple, then whispers, “I love you so much.”
I pull back slightly, studying his face, taking in every detail of him in all his masculine glory. “I love you too,” I whisper.
He brushes a stray lock of hair from my face, his eyes soft. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”
Smiling, I place a gentle kiss on his lips. “Merry Christmas, James.”
Epilogue
April
Seven months later …
Ichange into the outfit I’ve been planning for the past month—a casual cream cashmere lounge set paired with intricate lace lingerie in James’s favourite colour on me—ivory. I tousle my hair, teasing volume into the roots, and swipe on a layer of black mascara, finishing the look with a coat of pink lip balm. I decide to keep my skin bare and natural. I spritz my new perfume over my neck and in my hair, and do a final sweep through the house, ensuring everything is just right.
Basil is curled up on the sofa, purring away. Scented candles flicker across the room, filling the space with aromas of vanilla, popcorn, and cinnamon. Once-empty photo frames now hold snapshots of my new life—me with Anna and Gemma, photos of Basil, and of course, James. I pause in front of my favourite: James smiling wide as he shakes hands with Phoenix Riley on-stage. Yes,thePhoenix Riley from Bound to Oblivion. Since the tour started, they’ve become close friends, and having thatmoment captured is an ode to how hard he’s worked, and how wonderfully talented he is.
The bookshelf is now overflowing with more classic titles, thanks to James, and my wardrobe houses variants of his oversized T-shirts and ripped jeans. We decided that he would move in when he returns from tour, and Caroline has been helping shift his belongings while he’s been away. I understand why some people might think it’s too soon, but that phrasewhen you know, you knowhas never felt truer. I’ve missed him with the same desperation as needing air to breathe.
Why waste time when you know exactly what you want?
Between my work and his overwhelming schedule, we only managed to spend one incredible week together in Vienna back in April. We ate our weight in apple strudel, and toured old concert halls and opera houses, immersing ourselves in the cities impressive history and music. James couldn’t believe he was standing in the same buildings where composers like Mozart and Beethoven once performed.
After that, we decided we didn’t want to waste a single moment. I can hardly believe he’s finally coming home.
No more late-night FaceTime calls or rushed texts squeezed in between work hours and shows.
No more waking up in the middle of the night clutching his pillow, or coming home to a dark, empty house after a long day.
I can’t wait to hear the rumble of his bass as he plays or walk downstairs to the mouth-watering smell of bacon and eggs frying on the stovetop.
I dart outside to bring in my latest clay creations—fruit bowls, vases, and a set of matching coffee mugs. When James left, I decided to take my ceramics seriously. I opened an Etsy shop, created an Instagram, and started sharing my work. The girls got behind me, posting about my pieces, which led to an influx of custom orders. I reached out to a few of the marketstalls Gemma and I frequent, and they agreed to stock my work. We started with just a handful of pieces, but word spread and it took off. Now, I’m scouting small spaces to rent, with plans to open my own shop.
