Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 101758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
“You’re perfect for me. You know that, right?”
“I need you to fuck me, Xander.”
“Hard or soft? Fast or slow?”
“Yes.”
He huffs out a laugh, lines his cock up with my opening, and slides right inside, making us both groan in satisfaction.
“Shit, you’re snug.”
“You’re big. Not my fault.”
“Both can be true.” He nibbles my lips, leaning on his elbows as he stays seated inside me. “How are you, baby? I need to know that you’re okay.”
“I’m with you.” My hands drift down his back to his ass and then back up again. “So I’m perfect.”
His eyes close, and then he starts to move in long, slow strokes that drag that piercing over my G-spot so damn perfectly, it makes my head spin.
“This pretty pussy is mine,” he says against my lips as he starts to pick up the pace. “Only mine.”
I can’t answer him because his mouth is on mine again, kissing me hard. He brushes his tongue over my own until he has to pull back to catch his breath. He’s pounding into me so hard and fast now, shaking the whole bed, and holy tap-dancing Jesus.
“Xander!”
“Fuck, your pussy is strangling the fuck out of me. You gonna come, Red?”
“Shit, that’s so good.”
“Go over for me, baby.”
I lick my fingers and reach down to press on my clit, and that’s all it takes for me to tumble into oblivion.
“Fuck, Ivy,” he says just as he comes with me, his eyes never leaving mine.
Our breaths are heaving as he rolls over and takes me with him, snuggling me up to his side. He kisses me softly and pushes his fingers into my hair, brushing it away from my face.
“I love you,” he says before kissing my forehead so gently, it brings tears to my eyes.
“I love you.”
“Why didn’t I know you could make the best grilled cheese in the world?”
We’re sitting at the island in the kitchen munching on the warm, gooey sandwiches that Xander made us. He’s only in black sweats, with that amazing torso on display. I’m wearing one of his Flurry T-shirts.
I need to be wrapped up in him, even when he’s not holding me.
Needy?
Hell yes.
I don’t care.
“I have many hidden talents,” he says around a big bite of a sandwich. He already has two more on the stove.
“What else can you do?”
“That’s just something you’re going to have to figure out over the next seventy years or so.”
He winks at me and then turns to flip the sandwiches on the griddle. I stand and walk around to where he is, wrap my arms around his waist, and kiss the middle of his back. He’s so warm, and I feel so much better now that we’ve talked.
And fucked. Let’s not forget that.
Although, who could?
“You okay, Red?”
I nod against him, and he turns around to hug me back.
“I’m so much better now.”
“Good.” He kisses the end of my nose. “Want another grilled cheese?”
“Yes. And then I want to go back to bed.”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
IVY
I’ve never really paid attention to Christmas. When I was a kid, my mom never had a tree or lights or got me anything. She claimed it was because it was against her religion, but I knew even when I was very small that was bullshit.
Brenda never believed in anything other than what was best for her. And spending extra money on me for holidays or my birthday didn’t rate.
So the holidays have never been on my radar.
Until this year because Xander went all out.
“You’re insane.”
I’m still buzzing from what he called Christmas climaxes to get me in the holiday spirit. He woke me up an hour ago with his face between my legs and then told me, with an absolutely serious expression on his ridiculously handsome face, that Santa had been here.
Santa doesn’t even know I exist.
“I’m crazy about you, Red.” He kisses the top of my head, and I’m rooted where I’m standing, staring at the pile of beautifully wrapped gifts under the tree.
It’s bigger than me.
The pile of presents, and the tree.
We got back to Montana two days ago and immediately dove into Operation Christmas. Someone had already come to put lights all over the outside of the house, on the trees that line the driveway, and even on the trees by the pond. It’s absolutely gorgeous, bathing everything in a golden glow at night. I could just stare at it all for hours.
And when we walked inside, there was a huge real tree standing in front of the massive windows in the living room, already lit.
All we had to do was decorate it. The top was already decorated—I don’t even want to know how they managed it—but we spent an evening together hanging ornaments, drinking hot toddies, and listening to Christmas music.
It was awesome.
But I drastically underestimated just how much my man loves Christmas because he might have gone a little overboard.