Merry Christmas, Baby(32)
Author: Vicki Lewis Thompson

Her mouth opened in a soundless gasp and she felt her muscles clench, readying for him. She arched her back and bent forward, giving him better access. With a guttural groan of masculine satisfaction, he slid into her.

The breath hitched out of her lungs and she tightened around him and pressed her hands against the door. He slid out and pushed again and she could tell that he was holding back, that he was afraid of hurting her.

But that wasn’t what hurt.

“Don’t be gentle,” she said, clenching her teeth against the need hammering against her. “Take me how you really want me.”

He gave a startled little laugh and then bent forward and breathed into her ear. “I do like the fur,” he said. “It’s hot. And you look good in red. Like Santa’s sexy little helper.”

He grabbed hold of her h*ps and pounded into her. It was wild and manic, hot and dirty, and to her immense surprise, she found she really wanted it that way.

He did this to her, Delphie thought. He made her want him like this. He pistoned in and out of her, harder and faster, then faster still. She absorbed his thrusts and worked herself against him, arched her head back when it got to be too much and he bent forward and bit her shoulder, a light nip, but she liked it so much it made her vision blacken around the edges. He reached around and massaged her clit, upped the tempo and nipped at her neck.

“You’re…improving,” she gasped, feeling the first bit of cli**x dawning in her quivering, anxious sex.

“You know…what they…say about…practice,” he said, taking her harder and harder. He was big and hard and wonderful and the only thing she regretted about this was not being able to put her hands on him. She loved the way he felt beneath her palms—the salty taste of his smooth skin, the texture of his male nipple against her tongue. She felt his tautened balls slapping against her aching skin, his huge hand on her hip and a masterful finger stroking her clit.

It was too much, too perfect, too…everything.

The orgasm swept her up, then pushed her down and her muscles clamped so hard she felt him jerk and groan behind her.

“Delphie,” he breathed, her name a curse. “You’re killing me.”

She sagged against the door, her legs weak, and savored the lingering pulses of release. “Good,” she breathed. “Because I don’t want to die alone.”

She meant it in the figurative sense, but realized the double meaning as soon as the words left her mouth. He came an instant later and held her tighter, then kissed the nape of her neck. “You won’t,” he said. “At this point I’m even willing to give up the goats.”

Delphie laughed, missing him already.

7

THOUGH SHE’D INVITED him over for Christmas dinner with her family, Silas had ultimately refused. He tried to tell himself that he didn’t want to intrude, but the truth was he was beginning to suspect he needed a little distance from Delphie to try to get his head back in the game.

Because at this point, he’d already lost it.

He’d known her three days, would be boarding a plane first thing in the morning and though he always dreaded leaving, it was never quite like this.

Right now the idea of being so far from Delphie made him feel utterly miserable, which was cause for concern on more levels than he cared to count.

He couldn’t be this invested in someone he’d only known three days, could he? Surely not. Granted, it felt as if he’d known her a lot longer than that and she was by far the most interesting person he’d ever met. And the sex…

His balls tightened just thinking about it.

He couldn’t get enough of her.

He looked at her mouth and instantly craved her. She made him crazy with wanting, and the perpetual need to slip out of his skin and into hers only worsened the more time they spent together. And, of course, he wanted to spend every second with her, so that wasn’t helping matters, either.

He could tell that she’d hated leaving him this morning, but he’d assured her he’d be fine. He’d wrapped presents for his parents and sister and left them under the tree, and he’d picked up a little something for Delphie yesterday when he’d been out, as well. It was a small pendant made of blue sea glass that perfectly matched the shade of her eyes.

He’d just taken the bread out of the oven when he heard her knock at the door. “You cooked,” she said, her eyes sparkling with delight. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” he said simply. “Although you’re probably not very hungry.”

Her gaze slid over him slowly as she set aside a bag and shrugged out of her coat. “Actually, I’ve been thinking about eating all day.”

Her eyes lingered on his groin, alerting him to what exactly she’d been thinking of eating, and every bit of the moisture evaporated from his mouth.

“I’ve got a special Christmas treat for you,” she said.

“You do?” Did that hoarse voice belong to him?

She gave him a gentle shove, sending him toppling onto the couch. “Yep.”

She retrieved the bag she’d brought in and handed it to him. The scent of oranges and yeast and icing instantly enveloped him and he grinned. “You made the orange rolls?”

“I tried,” she said. “I’m not sure they’re exactly what you’re used to, but…” She pulled a little shrug, then dropped to her knees in front of him. His zipper whined as he withdrew the sticky treat and she waited for him to take his first bite before she wrapped her hot mouth around his dick and sucked.

He came embarrassingly close to coming instantly and his eyes rolled back in his head.

She worked the slippery skin against her hand, licked and sucked and lapped and laved. She massaged his balls, paid particular attention to the tender area beneath the full head of his penis. From the unbelievably happy look on her face, she was enjoying eating him as much as he was loving the orange roll.

He’d never look at the dessert the same way.

As he popped the last bite into his mouth, she sucked harder. Then he came. Her eyes met his as she lapped him up, savoring the taste of his release.

“Silas?”

“Hmm?”

“Merry Christmas.”

He dropped his head against the back of the couch and chuckled softly.

Oh, yes, it had been after all.

“I’VE GOT SOMETHING for you,” he said later that evening, after he’d reciprocated her earlier gesture. Delphie was spent and boneless and dreading the morning.

“You do? You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” he said. “That’s what makes it a present.”

She laughed against his chest. “I thought you’d just given me your present.”

“I think you’ll like this one better,” he said.

She smiled. “Oh, I doubt that very seriously.”

He tsked. “You haven’t even seen it yet.” He reached under the Christmas tree and pulled a small package out for her, then handed it to her.

Damn. Her gaze flew to his. He’d gotten her a real present. She’d just made him some orange rolls and given him a bl*w j*b. She hadn’t expected this. “Oh,” she said. “Thank you.”

“Aren’t you going to open it?”

Fingers trembling, she did just that. “Oh, Silas,” she breathed. “Sea glass.”

“I thought of you when I saw it.”

“Thank you,” she said, more touched than she could imagine. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s the color of your eyes.”

“You don’t have to flatter me, you know. I’m a sure thing.”

He stared at her. “You need to learn to take a compliment.”

Maybe so, but this felt as though it changed things. Their brief but glorious relationship had been fun and uncomplicated and she thought she’d done a good job of keeping her feelings in check. But this little token changed things, made her realize just how much she truly…cared for him.

In the morning he was going to leave again, which in theory had made him safe. But she didn’t feel safe now, and he damned sure wouldn’t be safe when he went back to Iraq.

She was going to worry and be miserable and there wasn’t anything she could do about it. Too late she realized that this had never been uncomplicated, that she could never disengage her heart like that.

Silas Davenport, damn him, was special. He always had been, whether she’d been willing to admit it or not.

“Here,” he said. “Let me put it on you.”

She turned and felt his fingers brush the back of her neck. Another shiver eddied through her and she felt her eyes burn.

Oh, hell.

“Your parents are really going to hate that they’ve missed you,” she said, looking for a subject change.

“I hate that I’ve missed them, too,” he told her. “But I have certainly enjoyed spending time with you.” He studied her, smiled. “You’re fun.”

She ducked her head and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Thank you.”

“See,” he said. “This is what I love about you. You give me the best Christmas present of my life without batting a lash. I give you a compliment and you blush six shades of red.”