“I think you’ve been watching too much porn.”
“Don’t porn shame,” I say, drifting my right hand over his belly and up over his pecs and smiling when he melts back into me, his body fitting perfectly against mine.
“I’d never.”
I grin and kiss his neck before he turns around, wrapping his arms around my neck and kissing me hard with hunger andneed. Our hard cocks brush against each other, and I whimper with desperation for him. I always feel this way when we’re together. Whether it’s been days or minutes since the last time we found pleasure in each other’s body.
I wrap my hand around us both and relish the sound of his sweet gasp, my tongue sweeping over his as I stroke us both. I’d love to take my time with him, but I’m sure he’s still sore from last night, and we should probably go pick out a tree and decorate it before the party.
Do we really need a Christmas tree? No. But I know Dutton wants one, and it’s something he wants to do together. So we’re getting that tree.
“So good,” he moans against my lips, his head falling back. The velvety soft feel of his hard cock sliding against mine makes me groan, and my balls tighten as his hands make their way to my ass. He grips both cheeks in his hands, squeezing and pulling me into him as we thrust against each other. I kiss and suck on his neck, pulling the most delicious sounds from him.
He’s the first to go over, but I’m not far behind, both of us crying out in pleasure as I stroke us until we can barely move. His lips move to mine, kissing me softly, and I keep my eyes closed for the moment. Just letting us have this together.
Being with each other. Just us.
“We need to get going,” he says softly, and I nod my head, still not opening my eyes and basking in the euphoria.
“One minute.”
I can feel him smiling and probably shaking his head at me, but then I feel his hands on me, cleaning my body, and I do the same for him, not keeping my eyes closed for that—instead, drinking in every bit of the naked, soapy, wet skin I can see.
Finally, we make it out of the shower and get dressed before heading out to my truck and driving to the one place in townstill selling Christmas trees. Well, it’s actually on the outskirts of town, but it’s nice.
We aren’t the only slackers though. There are plenty of people here. Good.
We each grab a cup of complimentary hot cider—don’t tell Oakley—and then walk around the Christmas tree farm until we find the perfect one. It’s not that tall or that wide, but it’s perfect for us.
We get the tree home and decorate it with the few ornaments we have between the two of us that were sent to us by our mothers. Guess we should probably buy some next year, but for now, this works.
I stand and admire the tree while Dutton places one last ornament on it. The tree stands in front of the large glass window in the living room, and I can’t help but feel nothing but thankful that I have him to share this with.
Our perfect, simple life that I wouldn’t change for the world.
3
CANE
“Wow.” I don’t look over my shoulder at the sound of Archie’s voice, but it makes me smile all the same. “This is incredible.”
I step back to admire my own work and feel a deep sense of pride rush through me, looking at the small vanity I refurbished for Gabe’s little girl, Amber. The kid is cute as hell, and while she loves helping her dad work on things around the house, apparently, she’s in a makeup phase and is obsessed with the stuff.
So when I saw this old wooden desk for sale on Facebook Marketplace for pennies, I knew exactly what to do with it. Sanded it down and painted it her favorite color—hot pink, not light pink because she hates that. I found a mirror to attach to it and built a matching stool.
“I’m jealous.”
“Why?” I turn around to face my boyfriend, smiling at his flannel shirt and jeans. That’s exactly what I’m planning to wear to the holiday party tonight too. We’re going to catch so much hell for matching, but I can’t be bothered to care. “You want a pink vanity?”
“Hell yes,” he says with that confident, sexy grin on his handsome face. He steps forward and smooths his hand over the thankfully now-dry paint. “But that’s not what I meant.” His eyes meet mine, flickering with fuckery. “You’re now going to be Amber’s favorite uncle, and I can’t have that.”
“You’re making her cookies,” I say, wrapping my arms around him and smacking his lips with mine. I sniff the air, and my nose wrinkles. “Or burning her some cookies?” I ask, my eyebrow raised.
“Shit!” He pushes away from me and runs toward the kitchen. I follow, laughing at the comical scene. He pulls open the oven door, and smoke bellows out, setting off the smoke alarm and sending Archie into a panic. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”
I can’t help chuckling as I reach for an oven mitt and pull the poor, black, peanut butter cookies from the stove, waving the mitt over the top and trying to clear the smoke.
“Damn it,” he pouts.
