Tate cried out, the pleasure too much to contain.
“Come for me, Tate. Let me watch you come apart.”
The rough stroke of Donovan’s hand and the gentle thrust of his cock had Tate’s spine tingling, the electricity building until he was sure he was going to shatter into a million pieces.
“Oh, God!” Tate bucked his hips. “Oh, fuck.”
“That’s it, baby. Come for me.”
Tate’s muscles went rigid as his cock exploded, sending streams of cum onto his chest for the second time that day.
“Fuck, that’s beautiful,” Donovan growled as he began pounding into Tate harder, deeper, faster.
A second later, he came with Tate’s name echoing off the walls.
When he fell to Tate’s side, he was gasping for air, his arm draped across him, never mind the fact it would require them both to shower.
“If you even think about disappearing on me, I’ll hunt you down, bare your ass, and paddle you until my handprint has a permanent residence on your skin. And don’t think I won’t do it in public.”
Tate grinned, turning his head toward Donovan. “I’m not goin’ anywhere.”
“Good.” Donovan moved closer. “Let’s get cleaned up, then you should get some sleep. There’s a rumor Santa comes during the night, and you might want to be ready.”
Tate laughed.
Not too long after they showered, he fell asleep in Donovan’s arms, with a smile permanently etched on his face.
And yes, Santa came that night. Once when Tate sucked him off and once again a few hours later when Tate sat astride him and did all the work.
Twenty
Christmas Day, Monday, December 25th
Reilly came awake as the day wasgetting underway.
Considering the entire house was made of glass, she didn’t have much choice. As she lay there, staring out the windows, listening to Brady breathe heavily beside her, she wondered how he managed. Sure, the house was great, but it felt like she was in a fishbowl. Or maybe a terrarium was a better word for it since, you know, a lack of water.
She grinned, stretching to see if she was still as sore as she’d been last night. After their encounter on the couch, Brady had brought her upstairs and made love to her. They’d fallen asleep after, then he’d woken her up and claimed her again.
There was a definite spontaneity to it when you didn’t have to dig out a condom.
Reilly recalled how panicked Brady had been when they hadn’t used one. It wasn’t on purpose; she knew that. They’d simply been caught up in the moment. But it made her wonder why he’d been upset. Because he hadn’t known she was on birth control?
“Mmm.” Brady shifted, his arm sliding over her hips as he scooted closer. “Good mornin’.”
“Merry Christmas,” she said in response.
“It is that.” He pressed a kiss to her shoulder.
“Do you want kids?” she blurted, then realized how off-subject that was for him. She’d been thinking about it, so it was only logical that she asked, but he’d been asleep.
Brady slowly lifted his head. “What?”
“Kids,” she repeated, looking up at him. “Do you want them?”
To her surprise, he didn’t seem panicked. She wondered why. Last night, she’d accidentally let it slip that she loved him. He hadn’t said it back. It had niggled at her for a bit, but she pushed it out of her mind. This was new, and since she was the one who’d been in love with him for a long time, it wasreallynew for him.
“I’m on birth control,” she reminded him, wanting to ensure he knew it wasn’t a risk at the moment. “It won’t be an accident, I promise.”
