“Oh yeah? Enough to bring me some of those brownies in that box you brought in?” he asks, with big puppy dog eyes.
I sigh, over exaggeratedly but am unable to mask my happiness as a smile breaks across my face.
“Definitely enough to get you some of those brownies.”
I walk through the house and snag the box of brownies, popping one in my mouth on my way back to the bedroom. I set the box down in front of a grinning Cass.
“Try not to get crumbs everywhere,” I say with a mouthful of brownie.
He just shakes his head at me as he takes a bite.
“Can I have a glass of milk, too?” he asks.
I nod and head off to the kitchen to pour us both a glass. I bring it back and hand it to him as I sit down next to him on our bed. He takes a few large gulps, leaving a milk mustache behind when he looks up at me. I can’t contain my laughter at this man of mine. Laying on our bed, eating brownies, drinking milk with a milk mustache, all the while being a fucking bad ass.
“What?” he asks, his eyes gleaming looking up at me.
“You have a milk mustache!”
He snakes his tongue out to catch the droplets of milk dripping from his mustache. My stomach tightens as I watch his tongue at work. I know what that tongue is capable of and suddenly I don’t want brownies anymore. His eyes darken at my expression and that gleam has caught fire. He sets down his glass of milk on the night stand and moves the brownies. I set my glass down quickly and before I realize what’s going on, he’s got me pinned beneath him.
Cass grabs my wrists and pins them above my head in one of his hands, trailing kisses down my neck. His other hand is gliding beneath my sweater, making my back arch from his touch alone. I open my legs and wrap them around him, pulling him flush against me. The pressure of his cock on my throbbing pussy has me moaning and pushing against the hand that has me restrained. My body is craving release.
“Baby,” I plead.
His smirk tells me that he’s enjoying the show. Asshole.
He dips his head between my shoulder and my ear, sinking his teeth into the soft skin of my neck.
“Oh…yes…” I hiss and rock my hips against him. The low hum of his growl vibrates against my neck and he releases me to unbutton his pants. I unbutton mine and Cass grabs the legs of my jeans and pulls them off. His animalistic behavior has me so wet and ready. My body aches for the feel of him. I grab at the hem of shirt and tug it over his head. He doesn’t waste any time and pins me to the bed beneath him, teasing my entrance with the head of his dick.
“Please,” I whimper, rocking my hips upward.
Cass gives me a smirk then slowly slides inside me, giving me exactly what I asked for. He makes slow, sweet passionate love to me for the next two hours and when I’m finally sated, he pulls me into my spot on his chest and I fall asleep.
Chapter Three
Cass
Christmas morning. This is the most perfect Christmas morning I’ve had since I was a teenager. Mom always woke me up with blueberry waffles. She and my dad would dance around the kitchen and cook breakfast before waking me up to eat then open presents. Our house was always decorated with multi-colored lights, and it smelled like blueberries and pine. I haven’t had any semblance of a Christmas since I was sixteen and that last Christmas with her was agonizing. I fought through it and smiled as much as I could make myself, knowing that she wouldn’t make it to the next Christmas.
Lilly is asleep next to me, flat on her back with her knees pulled up. I’ve never seen a grown woman sleep like that before in my life. She’s in the fetal position, but on her back. It’s strange, but it’s one of those things that make her…her. I have got to put up those curtains she’s been asking about. The sun is the only reason I’m awake right now. After loving her last night and watching her come beneath me over and over again, I should still be asleep right there with her, but because it’s daylight, I’m wide the fuck awake.
I ease out of bed, careful not to wake Lilly up, and make my way into the kitchen. I know we don’t have blueberries, but I’m sure I can find something to add to the pancakes I’m about to make for my girl. It’s time to start my own tradition. I close our bedroom door quietly and start rummaging through the refrigerator. There’s a tray of strawberries Lilly bought the other day at the market and it’s perfect. Strawberry pancakes on Christmas morning.
I put a pod in the Keurig and brew a cup of coffee for my morning-hating fiancée and whip up the pancake batter. The time on the microwave tells me it’s seven in the morning, which translates to way too fucking early. Lilly’s alarm will be going off soon so she can start cooking the rest of the food that she needs done by lunch today for our families. A familiar pang hits me at the thought of how much I wish Mom could be here to meet Lilly and see how far I’ve come since the last time she saw me. I push those thoughts back, though, and try to focus on the here and now. On the things that I have to be grateful for.
Small arms snake around my midsection and I grin in response. Lilly’s cheek is flush against my bare back and it feels so good.
“Merry Christmas, baby.”
“Merry Christmas, love,” she rasps, her voice thick with sleep.
“I was bringing you breakfast in bed, you know.”
“I could smell the sweetness cooking and couldn’t stay in bed without you any longer.”
“Is that so?” I ask, playfully.
