I lower myself to kiss her. Her cheek, her lips, her friendly, quivering tits. I grab a condom from the stash I put in the bedside table earlier and roll it on.
“I wanted to do that,” she mumbles.
“Next time, doll.”
She’s still shivering. In the middle of the plushest bed linens ever, in a cozy room with the gas fireplace on. I hope what I’m gripping in my hand is the remedy. She curls her legs around mine as I’m notching myself at her entrance.
“You ready?”
She scrunches up her face, laughing. “Don’t make me beg.”
So, so many ideas. “Another time, doll.”
I press inside of her, and God, it feels so good. The guttural sound I make vibrates through me, and I swear it makes the bed and the entire room shake. Cleo’s still shaking under me, and I don’t know if it’s because of me or if this is what happens when a decade’s worth of longing and frustration and sadness and crazy finally merges. So much energy. Deeper and deeper I go, and she’s taking me in, wrapping her arms around me tight. Her breaths are sharp. Eager. She nudges me, encouraging me to make the final push. Crying out, she drags her fingernails across my back, and…
“Fuck, that feels good.”
She sucks in a breath, arches her neck, her back, and plants her feet on the mattress, bracing herself. With a hiss, she says, “So good.” Slowly, she rocks her hips, sinks her teeth into my shoulder, then kisses it, and I am already losing my mind.
There’s this intense energy building inside of me. Some of it’s mine and some of it’s hers. It’s a lot of energy, and things could go one of two ways: I could start weeping. Bury my face in her neck and pledge my undying adoration while making some kind of sweet tantric love to her body and soul. Like a yuletide sex nap.
Or.
I let loose and get freaky all over this sassy little Christmas elf.
I’m going through door number two, because I have no doubt she’ll meet me there with everything she has.
I plunge into her with all the rage of the years I couldn’t have her. So much animal lust takes over. I’m not a man who deserves this kind of heaven, so I will let the beast crash through the gates. Like the fucking goddess she is, she welcomes me with yeses, my name, and a surprise. Instead of bracing herself some more, she stretches out, raises her arms above her head, loosensup. Rolling her head from side to side, telling me with that smile that she can not only take what I give her, she’s compelling me.
I have a surge of strength, because if my girl wants me to rail her, I’m gonna rail her.
I get up onto my knees, lifting her up by her ass so her torso’s hanging in midair, her bent legs dangling behind me. She looks like she’s in ecstasy. I have so much more control over the angles I enter her at.
She is so tight and so flexible and accommodating.
This is so us.
Friction and electricity and acceptance.
She takes my idea and improves on it by arching her back more, pushing into me, so I hit her G-spot. The sounds she’s making are music to my ears, and I feel it. She’s getting close.
I keep driving into her, and I think I could do this forever.
Except…
She’s wriggling around. I force my eyes open and find her grinning up at me, like she’s about to blow my mind. And she does. She slides down so her head and upper back are on the bed again, and she rocks her legs up, bending them through my arms, and then raising them to rest on my shoulders. On either side of my neck.
I move backward to stand on the floor, dragging her with me to the edge of the bed, hold on to her ass, and thrust. Harder and faster. She’s there. She comes in waves. I’ve lost her to some deep, rolling orgasm, but I keep a steady pace. I’m so deep and she’s so tight around me, squeezing and milking me, and it feels better than anything. She’s uninhibited and screaming, but it’s Cleo, so she still sounds happy.
When her body finally stills and I feel her return, she stares into my soul, squeezes around me, and I come so hard it feels like we might both go blind. It’s apocalyptic and gorgeous andtransformational. I feel wrecked and put back together and emptied out and so full of love.
I drop to my knees on the floor. She lowers her legs around me, and I melt into her belly, wrapping my arms around her waist. I have no idea if I’m conscious or not.
“Hey,” I hear Cleo say. “They’re playing your song.”
Somewhere behind me, from the TV I guess, I hear “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing.”
That night feels like months ago.
