Wicked Christmas Nights: It Happened One Christmas

He eyed her, visibly unsure.

“I’m not scared, Ross. Maybe a little embarrassed about being so…exposed.”

He stepped back and looked at her naked body, shaking his head slowly and rubbing his jaw, as if he just didn’t know what to say. Then he said exactly the right thing. “If there’s any such thing as a perfect woman, Lucy Fleming, you’re her.”

She went soft and gooey inside, everywhere she wasn’t already soft and gooey. As she’d already suspected, she’d most definitely chosen well.

“Thank you.”

“So don’t be nervous, Luce, I won’t do anything to hurt you,” he added, tenderly cupping her cheek.

“I won’t. I swear to you, my only fear is that it won’t be as good as I’ve made it out to be in my head.”

A slow smile curled those handsome lips upward. He shook his head, then sunk his hands in her hair and dragged her close.

“It’ll be better. I guaran-damn-tee it.”

He pushed her down onto the bed, and set about proving it.

Lucy honestly hadn’t known sex could be both incredibly hot and amazingly tender. He kissed her deeply, slowly, like he wanted to memorize the taste of her mouth. And his hands did magical things to her, gliding across her breasts, offering her barely there caresses that left her a quivering pile of sensation.

But then, his control would slip a little. He’d groan as he nipped her breast, or shake when she reached out and brushed her fingertips against the soft head of his erection. Lucy wanted to do more, longed to explore his body, but he seemed determined to make this all totally and completely about her.

Which was wonderful…and incredibly arousing.

“Please,” she said on a sob when he again teased her clit with his fingers, giving her light touches that made her long for firmer ones. Her hips thrusting, Lucy was on the verge of going over the top, she knew that from her own explorations of her body. and she was dying for it.

As if knowing he’d teased her as much as he could before she smacked him, Ross murmured something sweet and unintelligible, then slid a finger inside her. She practically cooed; the unfamiliar invasion felt so good. He moved his thumb back to her clit and this time, there was no teasing. Just slow, deliberate caresses, with just the pressure she needed.

Her breaths grew choppy. Sighs turned into gasps when he slid another finger into her channel, using both to stretch and fill her, even while he continued stroking her clit.

Then it came, sweet, warm relief. She quivered as the orgasm rolled over her, amazed at how much stronger it was when shared. She cried out, let her body shake and stretch, then sagged back into the pillows.

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispered.

“So are you,” she said, absolutely meaning it. Ross’s body was delicious—so hard and muscular, all power and steel. When combined with the thoughtfulness, the boyish smile, the twinkle in his green eyes, he was an absolutely irresistible male package.

She smiled at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I want you now.”

He didn’t ask if she was sure, as if knowing they were way past that. Reaching for a drawer in the bedside table, he took out a condom. Lucy caught her lip between her teeth, watching as he maneuvered the tight sheath over his thick, powerful erection. Seeing the rubber stretch to accommodate him, she felt the first thrills of nervousness. But they were immediately drowned out by utter excitement.

Just watching him sent even more heat to her sex and she had to drop her legs apart, the skin there was so engorged and sensitive. Ross looked down at her, masculine appreciation written all over his face, then moved between her thighs.

“Tell me if…”

“I will,” she said, cutting him off. Then she lifted her hips, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and staring up at him.

They didn’t kiss. They didn’t blink. They barely breathed.

Lucy’s heart skipped a beat when she felt his rigid warmth probing into her, nuzzling between her folds and into the slick opening of her body. He moved slowly, so carefully, so tenderly. Each bit of himself he gave her just made her hungry for more.

She arched her hips toward him, silently telling him to continue. Seeing the clenched muscles in his neck, the sweat on his brow, she knew he was hanging on tightly to his control.

“I’m fine,” she insisted. “Please, Ross, please fill me up.”

He bent to her, covered her lips with his and kissed her deeply. And with each stroke of his tongue, he pushed into her, filling her, inch by inch, until he was buried inside her.

There had been only the tiniest hint of pain; now there was just fullness. Thickness. A sense that she’d finally been made whole and didn’t ever want to go back to feeling empty again. Like he was exactly where he was meant to be.

“Okay?” he asked.

“Definitely.”

She slid her legs tighter around his, holding him close. Ross began to pull out, then slowly thrust back in, setting an easy pace. She caught it, matched it, giving when he took, taking when he pulled back. It was, she realized, like dancing…one step he led, then she did. Only no dance move had ever felt so good, so sinfully delicious.

“You’re so tight,” he groaned, picking up the pace.

She knew his control was slipping. Frankly she marveled that he’d been able to maintain it this long. Every molecule in her body was urging her to thrust and writhe, to just take in so much pleasure that she’d never remember what it was like to not feel it. She knew he had to be feeling the same.

The rhythm sped up a little, his thrusts deepening. Lucy met him stroke for stroke, clinging to his broad shoulders, sharing kiss after kiss. Reality had faded, there was nothing else except this feeling, this rightness. This perfect guy on this perfect night.

And then, the perfect moment. Warm delight spilled through her as she climaxed again, differently than she ever had before. It started deep inside and radiated out, a ripple widening into a wave.

Even as she savored the long, deep sensations, she heard Ross’s shallow breaths grow louder and felt him tense against her.

“Beautiful, you’re so beautiful,” he muttered as he strained toward his own release.

His low cry and the deepest thrust of all signaled that he’d found it. He buried his face in her hair and continued to pump into her, as if every bit of him had been wrung dry.

Though she knew he had to be totally spent, he didn’t collapse on top of her. Instead, Ross rolled onto his side and tugged her with him. They were still joined, and she slid her thigh over his hip, liking the connection.

His eyes were closed, his lips parted as he drew in deep breaths. When he finally opened them, she didn’t even try to hide her smile.

“What?”

“I liked it.”

He chuckled. “I’m glad.”

“When can we do it again?”

His chuckle turned into a deep, masculine laugh. “Give me a half hour.”

She stuck out her lower lip in a pretend pout.

“Okay, okay,” he said, reaching down and stroking her hip. “Twenty minutes.”

“I guess I can live with that,” she said, with a teasing smile. She rubbed against him, stealing his warmth. The bedroom was cool, but She definitely hadn’t noticed it before. Ross gave off a lot of heat…whether he was right beside her or across the room.