I Need You for Christmas

by Leah Braemel

  With a gasp, her hips jerked and her passage clasped him tight. Her tissues pulsing around him, her whole body shuddering. Only then did he allow his body his own release. With a groan, he clasped his arms around her and held still, pouring all of his essence, his love, himself, into her.

  * * *

  Ryan stacked the dirty plates from the dinner Amy had left them into the sink then turned and watched Meg exploring the loft. Some primitive side of him liked both that Meg was in his home and eating his food—well, Amy’s food, but food she hadn’t had to cook. The caveman side of him also like that she was wearing his old robe. It suited her better than it did him anyway. Not to mention she was naked beneath it and when she leaned over to examine one of his sculptures, the robe gapped, revealing a patch of red on the upper part of her breast. Was it weird that he felt proud that he’d marked her?

  Damned if he cared.

  As she stood at the French doors, staring out over the pond, he wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her against him. Damn, she felt right here. Not only in his arms but here in the loft. It was so much more welcoming than her place in Iqaluit. Still it didn’t matter where they were as long as they were together.

  She rested her head against his shoulder, her butt pressing up against his cock in an erotic caress. Hello insta-woody. He’d thought the sex they’d had in the tub would have settled the urge to take her like a caveman. Instead it had barely sated the urge to spread her out on the floor, settle between her thighs and devour her.

  “That’s your parents’ house over there, isn’t it?” she asked, indicating the gabled Victorian farmhouse on the other side of the snow-covered pond.

  “Yup. Derek and Amy’s house now.”

  When Derek and Amy had offered to move out of the family home when she’d married Derek, he’d turned them down. Why kick them out when he’d be leaving once Noah and Sophie grew up and he joined Meg? So he’d signed the house over to them and started work on the loft.

  Not wanting an audience, he lifted Meg into his arms. He carried her into his bedroom, thankful that the loft had been finished in time, yet he couldn’t stop the twinge of sadness knowing this would be the only time they’d use it other than quick on-the-fly visits. But still, the whole reason for leaving his family, his home, was staring up at him, her eyes soft and lids heavy. And she was worth any sacrifice.

  The moment he laid her on the king-size wrought-iron bed, Meg snuggled under the covers. “It’s cold in here.”

  He knelt at the hearth and set a match to the kindling until it caught, then climbed under the covers beside her.

  “I could stay here forever.” As if she knew he struggled with the pain that she wouldn’t stay there forever, that he would shortly be leaving it forever too, she snuggled against him. Her breasts pressed against his chest in a move that shot him straight back to college and the first night they’d spent together.

  Breathing in the scent of her hair, he cupped her breast with his palm and teased her nipple until it hardened, then tweaked it, giving her the bite of pain they’d both been surprised to discover she enjoyed.

  Shoving off the covers so he could watch her in the glow of the firelight, he captured the peak with his mouth. With a soft purr that vibrated down his spine to his balls, Megan threaded her fingers through his hair and arched into his mouth. The sharp bite of her nails in his scalp damned near set him off like a bottle rocket.

  “Hang on to the headboard, babe. Don’t let go.” As much as he hated losing her touch, it was the only way he’d be able to cling to any semblance of control.

  “I want to touch you.” She didn’t whine or beg, but that hint of breathy need in her voice made his cock harden to the point of pain.

  He’d intended to treat her softly, gently, this first night. To worship her, body, mind and soul. Instead his darker side rose up inside, needing to claim her again, needing her to remember this night in his place, on his terms.

  After untangling her fingers from his hair, he reached to the clothes he’d discarded on the floor, unthreading the belt from the loops of his jeans. The leather strap in hand, he captured her hands and raised them to the headboard. She stiffened when he looped the leather around her wrists, and he briefly wondered if she’d object, if she’d use her safe word to stop him. Then she softened beneath him and he finished tying her to the iron rungs.

  He returned his attentions to her breasts, licking and suckling, occasionally using his teeth to scrape across the tender flesh, blowing on them afterward to soothe any sting. Within minutes, she writhed beneath him, arching her back to press deeper into his mouth, and her legs wrapped around his hips with almost enough strength to trap him in place.

  Lifting himself up from his forearms to his wrists, he stared down at her. He didn’t need to say a word for her to relent and loosen her grip. Damn, it humbled him that this woman, proud and strong, surrendered to him.

  He returned to worshipping her breasts, her belly, savoring the taste of her skin on his lips, teasing her with each flick of his tongue until the scent of her arousal filled his head. Unable to ignore the source of that heady scent any longer, he settled between her thighs and lowered his head to nuzzle her trimmed curls.

  A whimper escaped her with the first lick of his tongue along her folds, followed by a moan as he circled her clit. The headboard creaked as she tugged on the bindings, not in an effort to escape but in an attempt to wiggle farther down the bed. Once again he stared at her, wordlessly, until she subsided.

  “Please,” she whispered.

  Oh, yes, he’d please her. Please them both.

  He scraped the side of his face along the inside of her thigh, chafing the tender skin before returning to savor her taste. He’d always loved knowing he had the power to arouse her just with his mouth and tonight was no different. He suckled and feasted on her delicate flesh until her skin glistened and she quivered with every lick. Only then did he slide a finger over her cleft and into her sheath.

  She bucked when he stroked the inner passage, his tongue still licking and swirling over her clit. A shudder went through her whole body when he pressed a second finger into the tight opening. He teased and tormented her both with his tongue and his fingers until the fluttering ripples of her muscles clenched around him and she gasped out his name. Her hips lifted and jerked with each wave of her orgasm, her head tilted back, the damp column of her neck reflecting the flickering light of the flames.

  As her orgasm waned, Ryan crawled up her body, sprinkling kisses over her belly, between her breasts and up her neck until his cock nudged her entrance. With a decisive motion, he surged into her, filling her completely, then stilled, barely able to stifle his groan.

  Too long he’d been without her but no more. Jerking off during phone sex was obscene in comparison to the way her tight channel clutched his throbbing cock. She might be submissive beneath him, but when he was inside her, he was her prisoner.

  He held himself up on his elbows, stared into her face, saw her love reflected back at him as he rode her. Fuck the bindings, he needed to feel her hands on him. Holding himself up on one elbow, he loosened the belt and growled. “Touch me.”

  “Thank God.” She released the headboard and clutched his shoulders, her fingernails digging into his skin in a delicious bite that he craved. Freed of her constraints she canted her hips. The adjustment in angle let his cock press deeper, hit that spot she needed to get off again. The change also gave him space to slip a hand between them. He unerringly found her clit and stroked, pinching it with just the right pressure until she flew apart around him.

  The groan that had rumbled in his throat all this time deepened into a growl. Blood pounded in his head in time to his cock, the desire to take her hard and fast streaking like wildfire through his veins. Unable to hold back any longer, he buried himself deep within her still-pulsing heat and pumped his hips, riding her hard until his balls drew tight to his body and he emptied inside her in hot spurts.

 
; Depleted, he sank over her, panting.

  * * *

  The glow from the slumbering embers shifted across the ceiling and into the corners of the dark room when Meg lifted herself up on one arm and peered over Ryan at the clock.

  Five-thirty.

  “Hey, what are you doing awake this early?” Ryan brushed her hair from her face.

  “I’m used to getting up around now. Did I wake you?”

  “Nah, I’ve not slept much.”

  Could have fooled her, he’d been so still through the night. Though come to think of it, she hadn’t heard any of that soft snore he normally did.

  “I couldn’t stop thinking. About you.” His voice deepened on the last statement. “Thinking about how I wanted to kiss you.”

  “What stopped you?”

  “I didn’t want to wake you.”

  “So what’s stopping you now?” She turned until her lips touched his. Another deep drugging kiss, thoroughly ravishing her mouth, leaving no doubt that he was in charge. There was no hint of softness about him when he broke off the kiss and stared down at her.

  “I love you.” Without waiting for a reply, he skated his lips down her cheek, peppering kisses down the length of her throat while his hands traced down her belly, over her hips and between the smooth skin of her thighs.

  He knew just the spots that turned her muscles to goo beneath his fingers, his lips. Moans built in her throat, escaped in shuddering hitches. Her skin tingled everywhere he’d touched, small sparks that burrowed and heated her blood.

  “Get on your hands and knees, Meg.” His tone reminded her of one of her instructors at the training academy.

  Her blood heated, raced through her belly to pool at the juncture of her thighs. “Yes, sir.”

  Heat flared in his expression. Approval of her whispered response, her immediate submission.

  When she’d first met Ryan, she’d only just realized how much a guy taking charge in the bedroom was the key to her sexual satisfaction. It had been a pleasant and exciting surprise their first time making love that while he’d treated her with love and respect that he expected in return, he’d revealed an innate dominance. It wasn’t that he was a capital-D dom, nor was he into all the master/slave crap she heard bandied about in the news, but he’d sensed without her asking that she needed someone else to take charge of closing the proverbial bedroom door to all her worries and concerns.

  Once she became a Mountie, and she took the duty for other people’s lives in her hands, the trust she had in letting go and turning all her worries over to him became like a drug.

  Warm breath heralded the first touch of his lips against her thigh. His fingers parted her folds, and seconds later, his tongue flicked out and feathered over her clit.

  How she managed without his touch for so long was beyond comprehension. Everything was right in her world when she was in his arms. All her worries, her concerns, evaporated, instead replaced with a Ryan-induced euphoria.

  Her body trembled under his attentions, as the pressure built up inside. Unable to stop herself, she pressed against his face in a silent plea.

  “Ssssh, I’ve got you.”

  The movement of his lips as he teased her clit threatened to send her over the edge. “Ryan, please.”

  “Trust me. I’ll get you there.”

  Trust him? Did he not know that she did, with her life, and her heart?

  “Please,” she repeated, hating the need in her voice, loving it too. Only with him could she let down her guard and give him such power over her.

  A kiss on her clit, more on the inside of each thigh. Desperate to turn over, to tangle her hands in his hair, to drag him on top of her until his cock filled her completely, she fisted her hands in the sheets. Another “sssh” vibrated against her skin and his tongue returned to lap circles around her swollen and sensitive clit.

  Her control shredded, she was reduced to wordless pleas and whimpers with each stroke. She rocked her hips back, pressing him deeper, harder. Her trembling became shudders as she approached her climax.

  Two fingers speared into her, coaxing a shudder from her. The shudder became a spasm when he stroked just the right spot inside then the fingers withdrew, leaving her empty until she wanted to cry out in despair. With another soft hush, Ryan flattened a hand between her shoulder blades and pressed her chest to the mattress. Keeping her hips raised, he covered her, his skin hotter than any blanket, and slowly pressed into her body.

  “Fuck yeah.”

  His groan of contentment echoed through her bones, sending a delicious thrill down to her pussy. Holding himself up on one elbow, he snaked his free hand around her waist and stroked the neatly trimmed curls of her mound. One finger slipped between her folds. A single touch and she shattered, convulsing around him,

  “I love feeling you when you come,” he breathed, his body rigid against hers in his own attempt at control.

  Before the last of the tremors of her orgasm faded, he started moving within her. Slowly, with a control she’d never expected when she’d first met him. She tightened her muscles with each withdrawal, her body loath to release him. With equal control, he surged back into her, the pressure of his cock setting off tiny firestorms as another orgasm built.

  Retreat, advance, in the same steady pattern, the same steady force, exactly what her mind craved though her body demanded he move faster, harder.

  “Faster.”

  “No.” But he shifted position and tilted his hips, pressing deeper than she’d thought possible. Since they’d been dating for so long, and neither birth control nor disease was an issue, they’d stopped using condoms two years before. She’d known it would be different for him, but it had blown her away that it made a difference to what she felt too. Every throb of his cock, every twitch and pulse transmitted through her sensitive tissues, adding to both of their pleasures.

  In and out, pressure, release until she scrunched her eyes closed and gasped for each breath. Nothing else existed in the cocoon of his bedroom, nothing beyond the sound of flesh slapping on flesh, of his groans and hers. Ryan’s breath was ragged and hot on her back, his muscles twitching against her ass with each thrust. Her brain shut down her thinking, concentrating on the need for air, the need for release.

  “Come for me, babe. Oh God, now.”

  His groaned command blazed through her and her body responded, tightening around his cock as it pumped his release into her in hot spurts. Sweat gleaming red on his chest, Ryan rolled beside her and tugged her into his arms. “Go back to sleep, babe. You’re on vacation. You deserve to sleep in.”

  His body slackened within seconds as he fell deep asleep, giving Meg the chance to study him unobserved. She brushed a damp strand from his, certain she’d done the right thing when she’d applied to the O.P.P. There was nowhere she’d rather be than with him. In his arms, in his bed, in his home. Forever.

  Chapter Three

  “You could have at least let me put on makeup.” Meg grimaced into the truck’s vanity mirror before she snapped the lid closed and thrust the visor back into place.

  “You don’t need makeup. You’re beautiful the way you are. Besides, it’s just Derek and Amy.” Ryan slanted her a glance as he pulled his truck down the laneway marked by the festively decorated mailbox with Porter hand-painted on each side. “It’s not like you have to get all dressed up for them—they’ve seen you without makeup before.”

  “Just Amy and Derek and Noah and Sophie. And no, I don’t have to get dressed up for them, I wanted to get dressed up. Don’t forget you promised to take me shopping this aft.” Meg pulled a spare band from her pocket and started to wind her hair into a ponytail.

  “Leave it.” He snatched the band from her hand with a frown and cupped her jaw. “I like it when it’s all soft and loose about your face. It’s sexy. You’re sexy, babe.”

  “Bed head, that’s what it is.” Trying to pretend his compliment didn’t send her all squishy inside, she faked a grimace. She turned her at
tention to what had once been a tired Victorian double bay farmhouse. The siding that had once been faded peeling white paint was now a tasteful powder blue, the curled shingles of the roof and the sagging porch had been replaced until the whole place gleamed. In the spirit of the season, real pine and cedar swags decorated the porch that ringed the entire first floor. In a touch of whimsy, someone had stuck a wreath on the head of a metal rooster Meg recognized as one of Ryan’s sculptures.

  “You guys have done a lot of work in the last nine months. It’s beautiful. I mean, it was always nice but now...wow.”

  “Yeah, Derek wanted to fix it up before the baby came.”

  “Derek wanted? Don’t you mean Amy?”

  “Tomayto-tomahto when it comes to those two. You know how we thought they’d grow out of that finish-each-other’s-sentences stage? Nope, they’re still at it. In fact, if anything it’s worse. Now they just have to look at each other. It’s freaky.”

  Freaky maybe, but jealousy’s sharp talons dug in and grabbed hold. She and Ryan had been at that stage when they’d lived together while she was attending the RCMP Academy, but they’d lost it with each month they were apart.

  The front door opened and Amy waddled onto the porch.

  “Holy crap, you weren’t kidding about her being big.”

  Ryan laughed. “You don’t have to whisper. She can’t hear you while we’re still in the car.” He already had one foot out of the car then paused. “But you might want to be careful about saying it in front of her. She’s kinda sensitive about it these days.”

  “Gotcha.”