Her lips tingled like tiny firecrackers popped on the skin, she instinctively pressed her fingers to them. She watched in rapt attention Deckard’s retreating back stalk toward her front door, flip the lock, and turn back around to stare at her.
Something shifted. The air changed and crackled between them as if a slow-burning fire was building in the space. But there was no fire, no wooden logs, no flickering flame – their chemistry is what had ignited.
A gleam in Deckard’s eyes sparkled as he took her in. One foot moved in front of the other and she felt her skin pebble under his gaze. He stalked toward her, his focus never moving away from her; Deckard was a hunter tracking his prey. For every stride he made forward, January took one back. His speed started to increase, as did hers, until they were both running through her house – the hunter giving her chase.
She darted down her hallway and thought she was safe as she crossed the threshold for her bedroom, but a strong arm gripped her around the waist and held her back. Before January could catch her breath, she found herself lifted in the air and then flying across the room landing with a plop on her bed.
The bed swallowed her as her body settled, but there wasn’t much time to crawl away because a heavy weight landed on top of her body.
Laughter exploded from deep in January’s chest and she noticed Deckard was enjoying himself just as much. But as quickly as their hunt had started their snickers died down. January stared up at the man that had captured her heart, his strong body towered over hers, his hips pressed against hers. January wanted nothing more than to keep their bodies aligned.
“Caught you,” he murmured as he sunk down to rest on his elbows, their noses only an inch apart.
With a shaking hand, January reached up to feel the soft strands of his hair between her fingers. They felt like the finest silk. He leaned into her touch as if it were his talisman. A shuttered breath fell from his lips while her thumb gently glided back and forth across his forehead.
January loved seeing him relaxed at her touch. There was something that made her heart skip a beat at watching him so affected by her.
She felt his hand slide up her arm until it rested over hers, clasping their fingers together as he drew her arm over her head.
A magnetic force pulled their lips together and the bond was so strong that neither of them could pull apart – not that she wanted to. She felt herself slipping away into oblivion. There was no bedroom, no guilt, no loss of Christmas - it was just her and Deckard.
With each brush of their lips and swipe of their tongues, their eagerness grew. One of Deckard’s hands slid down her body to rest on her waist before slipping beneath her sweater to rest on her skin. At the same time, January’s leg hitched alongside his hip. A muscled thigh pressed against her center as he adjusted himself above her and she was careening into bliss.
January’s hips moved on instinct, rocking against the sweet friction that his leg created. There was a tent growing in his pants as he rocked against her. January wanted to discover what he tasted like, to find out if the skin was soft, smooth, and velvety.
Her heart rate picked up when Deckard practically ripped her sweater over her head and tossed it across the room. She arched her back on impulse and he slipped his fingers along her spine to flip the hooks on her bra. He gripped the front of her lace bra, the small piece of material just between the cups, and plucked it away from her body, throwing it in the same direction as her sweater.
“Your turn,” she exclaimed as she tugged at the hem of his shirt.
Sitting up, Deckard crawled backward off the bed then stood at the foot of the mattress. In the way that has always amazed January, Deckard pulled at the back of his shirt and jerked the cotton over his head. His bare chest called out to her and she wanted to, needed to, touch the defined ridges. Effortlessly her upper body lifted off the bed. It felt like she had floated over to him; suddenly her fingers were tracing the dips and definitions of his abdomen.
A hiss escaped between Deckard’s teeth as she knelt on the floor before him and pressed a kiss to the skin on his hip just above the waistband of his jeans. January nipped and sucked as she made her way across to the opposite side of his body.
“I want to taste you,” January explained, her fingers toying with the button on his jeans silently waiting for his permission, but also not caring either way.
“Fuck,” he groaned, his head falling backward as she slipped the button free, slid the zipper downward, and tugged on the sides of the denim to pull them toward the floor. His boxer briefs quickly followed.
January stared at his length for a minute. It was standing proudly with all of its impressive length and girth. She had never described a cock as beautiful before, but Deckard’s easily fell into that category. Her mouth salivated in yearning.
Giving a blowjob wasn’t something January did often, or with a cock as imposing as Deckard’s, but right now, she wanted to do nothing more. She needed to please him the same way he had pleased her.
Tentatively she wrapped her hand around the base of his shaft, not surprised when her fingers didn’t come close to touching. Lightly she slid her hand up and down a few times, learning what spots were the most sensitive, then she couldn’t hold back any longer.
Her tongue tasted the pulsing vein on the underside of his cock and she followed the path until she reached the head. January opened her lips as wide as possible to accommodate the erection. She couldn’t take much of him inside her mouth, but Deckard didn’t seem to mind as she swirled her tongue around the head.
“Holy shit,” he groaned, placing his hand gently on the back of her head, sinking his fingers into her hair.
His declaration spurred her onward. She picked up her pace and her hands slid up and down his shaft as she continued to suck the head in and out of her mouth. Pressure from Deckard’s hand behind her head increased her movements and she loved how he seemed to be losing control.
Then he stopped.
Deckard’s chest was heaving, and as January peered up at him, he had a crazed look in his eyes. She loved that she was able to do that to him – unleash his caged animal.
“Get on the bed,” he commanded. His voice was dark, menacing, and slivered around January like a viper ready to bite.
Her panties were immediately soaked.
The moment her bottom hit the mattress, Deckard lifted her under her arms and tossed her back on the bed saying, “Taking too long.” He moved so swiftly, January felt as if she was going to get whiplash as he pulled at her boots and socks. With one enormous yank, he had her jeans and panties off in one swoop of his arms, like a magician wielding his magic wand. She didn’t have time to see where the clothes had landed because his mouth settled on her sex and January could barely remember her name.
He wasn’t gentle, or soft as he laved at her center. Deckard was almost punishing in the way he sucked and nipped at her. It was a punishment that January was all too willing to take.
But as much as she enjoyed having his mouth on her folds, she wanted to feel him inside her. She wanted that missing puzzle piece to make their connection complete.
“Deckard, please,” she begged, but he ignored her, adding his thumb to circle around her bundle of nerves.
Her legs started to shake on either side of his head as her pleasure rose, and before she could blink, January erupted against his mouth. So many stars twinkled in her line of sight that January was afraid she had hit her head like she had when she was younger, had fallen from a tree, and earned herself a concussion.
Deckard continued to slide his hand up and down her overly sensitive core, but his focus was on her.
“Please tell me you have protection,” he pleaded. January blindly reached over and opened the drawer to her nightstand, grabbing an unused box of condoms. She carelessly tossed it in Deckard’s direction. “Thank goodness.”
A mewling cry broke through the silence of the bedroom when he removed his hand from her sex; it was a cry of impatience tha
t January couldn’t control.
Deckard donned the condom in record time and crawled onto the bed above her. He held his cock as he approached her entrance, rocking his hips to slide his erection up and down her slickness. It was all too much for January. She wanted to feel him inside her more than she wanted anything else in her life at that moment.
January didn’t have to wait long.
She expected him to plunge himself to the hilt, take what he wanted, but he thrust in and out of her channel inch by painstaking inch. It was driving her mad, but she knew it was because he wanted her body to adjust to his size. When he made it as far as he could go, January had never felt so full. And it was magnificent.
January could see that it was taking a significant amount of effort for Deckard to keep from rocking into her at a grueling rate. The vein in his neck pulsed. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” she moaned. “More.”
Deckard slid his hands under her body and gripped her bottom, squeezing her flesh as he began to thrust again. January had to reach up and hold onto her headboard to keep her body from moving up the bed.
“Oh my. . .” her words trailed off as Deckard leaned forward and sucked one of her nipples into his mouth, never pausing his lunges.
Her body felt like it was on fire and the only way to extinguish the burn was to find her release.
“Turn over.”
January had to pry her fingers from her headboard and then she was flipped over before she took her next breath. With his steely grip, Deckard pulled her hips into the air and plunged inside her sex once more.
January gasped at the intrusion. He was deeper this way, somehow. She had always wanted to be adventurous in the bedroom, but her poor taste in men left her always on her back when they had sex. She had a hard time asking for what she wanted. It seemed Deckard had a wide array of things up his sleeves. This position was new and was quickly becoming her favorite as Deckard’s cock hit a spot no man had ever found before.
Her own body began to respond as it rocked back against every one of Deckard’s thrusts. His hips smacked against her bottom and thighs with every push and it was one of the greatest sounds January had ever heard, trailing only behind the groans and grunts coming from Deckard.
January’s core began to clinch and she knew that she was getting close to the pinnacle. It was in reach now and she could almost touch it. But then she found herself turned over onto her back again.
“I want to see your face when you come with me inside you.”
January couldn’t argue with him, she wanted to see his face when he came too.
This position was one January was familiar with, but she should have known that everything with Deckard would be better. He leaned over her, his arms on either side of her head, but he never slowed his movements.
It didn’t take long for January to feel that her release was just in reach again. Instinctively her hands loosened their grip on her covers and she lifted them to touch his back, her short nails scratching at his smooth skin just below his shoulder blades.
“Yes!” she cried out as her orgasm surged through her body. Her muscles erupted in waves around his shaft that continued to drive in and out of her.
“That’s it. Fuck, I’m going to come.”
His already punishing pace increased, but January was too lost in her orgasm to adjust her limbs.
Deckard’s body stilled above her as his hips jerked a few times, his release spilling into the condom. He curved his back to rest his sweat-soaked head on January’s chest. She loved that he was seeking her for comfort after his exertion at sending them over the edge.
She scraped her fingers up and down his back and could feel each heavy intake of breath as if it were her own. Nuzzling her chest, Deckard squeezed his arms under her back and held her to him, resting his body fully against her. He was heavy with all of his muscles, but she didn’t care, she wanted his comfort as much as he wanted hers.
January bent her legs on either side of his hips and cradled his large body, using one of her hands to comb through the wet strands of sweat-soaked hair on his head while the other continued to scratch his back.
His warm breath floated across her cooling skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “I just need another minute, then I’ll be ready.”
Her motions halted immediately. “Ready for what?” She was afraid that he was referencing that he planned to leave, and that was the farthest thing from what she wanted.
Deckard propped his chin on her breastbone to look at her in confusion. “For another round. . .” He let the comment hang in the air around him.
“Oh, I thought you meant something else.” Embarrassed, she flicked her hand in the air as she spoke. He captured the limb with his own and intertwined their fingers. Blue eyes searched hers, and when he realized what she had been referring to, his eyebrows raised in shock.
“You thought I was going to leave?” January wasn’t positive, but he sounded almost hurt by her assumption, and she hated that she was the cause.
“No! I mean, I just wasn’t sure. I don’t want you to leave.”
He kissed her once on the lips before moving off her body and resting on his side next to her. Dropping his hold of her fingers, he reached across her waist, pressed the middle of her back, and slid her closer to him until her body molded against his.
He continued to situate her like a rag doll until her head rested on his bicep, the muscles reminded her of bulging pillows. Deckard moved her arm to rest along his waist while his arm remained around her, trailing soft paths up and down her spine.
“This is nice,” she told him after pressing a soft kiss to the middle of his chest.
“It is.”
“Maybe we could stay like this a while longer? I’m sure you’re tired.”
Deckard didn’t respond with words, he lightly rocked his hip and January could feel his rock hard length press against her stomach.
“Oh my. Already?” she asked in surprise. She had never met a man so willing to go for another round of sex immediately after. Usually, she had to initiate hours later if she was lucky to have her lover wake up.
“You’re naked and have your perfect breasts pressed up against me. Believe me, he was ready right after.”
January didn’t need any convincing, she was as ready to go as he was. And with a lift of her leg over his thigh, January guided him to her entrance, where he slipped inside effortlessly this time. Her body was ready for him.
Unlike the first time that had been rough and fueled with their desire and chemistry, this round was slow. Deckard took his time with her body, learning which spots gave her shivers or had her clawing at his back for more.
His kisses were soft, but no less powerful, leaving her lips swollen from all the attention he was paying her mouth. Deckard wasn’t a selfish lover. He took his time to make sure that January was as lost in the sensations of their lovemaking as he was. She found her release three times before he gave in to his own.
They both had to work the next day, but neither cared as he spooned against her back for the night. January typically didn’t allow men to stay the night, but Deckard was different. He already held a special place in her heart and earned it in record time.
She could feel Deckard’s soft breaths on her neck as he slept peacefully, but January’s mind was awake with worry. She was certain now that she had fallen in love with him. Three words that she knew she had to keep to herself because he had plans and a life to return to in Atlanta. But that was the least of her worries.
January’s mind kept asking one question.
Would he have ever loved her enough to stay if she hadn’t wished Christmas away?
Chapter Eight
Waking up next to Deckard was a something that January would never tire of. Since he slept over after the sleigh ride, it seemed just as natural for him to stay the next night as well. The transition between boyfriend and lover was always something that had bothered January, but with Deckard, it had
been seamless. Just like it seemed to be with everything involving him.
It was strange to be back at work with no celebrations looming. New Year’s Day didn’t draw the excitement as Christmas. The Pineville Winter Solstice Celebration had gone on without a hitch, but now there was nothing festive or cheerful happening to report on. She was left researching the addition of new slopes at the local ski lodge.
It all seemed wrong, especially with Christmas only two days away.
She and Deckard were going to host her family the next night for Christmas Eve dinner. It was a tradition her mother had always insisted upon, but with January’s screw up, January planned to do it instead. She was thrilled Deckard offered to help even though it meant that their last night together was going to be shared with others.
“Someone is thinking about you,” Samantha said as she carried in a large bouquet of Poinsettias, pulling January away from her mindless task. The red was bright and lush against the stark backdrop of her office walls.
“Hm. . .I wonder what someone would have to do to get such a lovely surprise.”
January shrugged her shoulders not wanting to share her personal business with her best friend at their office. Samantha was already aware that she and Deckard had made love on the night of the solstice celebration, but she didn’t know that he had been sleeping at her house every night since then. Her best friend knew the limitations January put on her relationships.
“It is very lovely indeed,” January teased as she turned back to her computer to type up her notes regarding the ski lodge. But, of course, her friend couldn’t let her drop the topic as if receiving flowers was a daily occurrence. The only time people received gifts like this at the office was when it was a birthday or someone died.
Samantha reached over and pressed the power button on January’s monitor to get her attention.
“Tell me.”
“There isn’t anything to tell,” January lied and as Samantha’s smile grew. Unfortunately, that meant January was going to have to spill every dirty detail.
A Snowflake Wish Page 12
