by Maya James
As much as I adore looking at him, closing my eyes enhances the sensations. Justin lets that nipple slide from his mouth, pinching its tip between his tongue and his top, front teeth, and slurps in my other. A whole new shower of glitter caresses me.
My clitoris cannot take many more unanswered throbs and twinges, so my hips rock upward, hoping my pussy finds some part of him—any part—to rub against.
One of his talented hands finally begins to descend my titillated body; down my stomach, over the mound of my pelvic bone, diving into the river of juices flowing out of my hot folds. My clit screams in a relief under the pressure of his wet fingertips spreading me open, stretching the soft hood off my stiff, pleading tip. I catch my breath and hold it. He lowers his head and flicks his tongue at my bellybutton while he strums me toward a climax.
His weight shifts, but I still don't open my eyes. Whatever he's doing I will feel it soon enough. I hear the cling of metal, like silverware, then his hand returns to my body. I feel him smear something across my chest, down my stomach. My eyes snap open and I find him spreading the cheesecake all over me, his eager mouth following behind, licking it off me. Without any care, he covers my pussy with it, rubbing it around his other busy hand.
"You'd better plan on licking me clean," I tell him.
He smiles. God that fucking smile. "Oh, I certainly plan to." His tongue runs down my stomach, lapping up every bit of the cake and sending shivers through my core.
Justin positions himself lower and pushes two fingers into me gently, teasing my G-spot. He soaks them in my fluids and pulls them out, scooping some cake onto them and bringing them to his mouth. Without wasting any time, he stuffs them in, sucking them clean while he moans.
He drives me insane, showing me how much I turn him on. He balances himself on one of my knees, holding me open to him and thrusts more fingers back in me again, jerking them in and out, and fucking me with them. I welcome the familiar pulsing of my growing orgasm—even though I know he won't let it happen yet.
"You make the cheesecake taste even better," he teases.
He smears the cake around my clit with his other hand, letting its stiffness snap from under his pressure. He runs his thumb down the length of it slowly, and it pops up excitedly as he runs off its end. He pulls his fingers from me and scoops up more of the cake again, licking them clean.
A low rumble emerges from his chest, slowly growing into a growl. Then he can't take it anymore, and he thrusts his face between my legs, lapping up the cheesecake with my wetness, mixing it with the taste of me until all of the cake is gone. My clit is teased and ready. His tongue had been everywhere, over every inch, in every fold, and now I want him like a warrior should.
I grab him; one hand has his ear, the other a fistful of his hair, and I crush him into me. "Don't tease me anymore, Justin. I can't take it. I need you to suck on it like you do, and make me cum."
I feel him slide his face into position, preparing his gifted lips and magnificent jaw, and finally the wonderful pressure of his mouth sucking my clitoris in to his waiting tongue. I'm filled with tremors, my entire body shaking and quivering as a deep, guttural moan escapes me.
Shards of intense pleasure pierce me. I have no control at the moment, I'm unable to even let go of his head. A massive orgasm is building inside me like the funnel of a tornado that has fully formed and taken shape; and now is reaching down towards the earth, slowly stretching and reaching towards its explosive destination. The power of it just keeps intensifying under the relentless efforts of Justin's mouth.
In the instant before I erupt, I'm vaguely aware of Justin's hand reaching up and grabbing my breast, gently pinching my nipple.
"It's here! It's here!"
He sucks harder, rolls my nipple between his fingers.
"Cumming!"
The tornado touches down, and I am a convulsing mess thrashing around the floor under our Christmas tree. My cries escape me in a long, boisterous exhales of spent ecstasy. While I pray that I'm not hurting him, I can't ease my grip on his head at all.
I ride the powerful storm, waiting for it to slowly blow itself out, knowing there must be an end. It doesn't show itself for a bit, my womanhood draining in my convulsions, my warrior exhausted until finally I am able to breathe.
Justin hears the change in my sounds, feels it in my satisfied body as I relax and surrender to the afterglow. His mouth softens, and his tongue slows to a pace that I can handle without violently twitching him away with my hips and my hands are finally able to release him.
In the soft glow of the candles and Christmas lights, I watch him sit up and wipe my wetness off his chin. He carefully slides his legs underneath mine and pulls me up until I am sitting in his lap staring at him. I run my hand across his beautiful face, taken by the way he looks at me.
"I wish I could tell you how you make me feel, that the words existed to describe how you satisfy me," I tell him in a worn, hoarse voice.
He smiles. "There's no need. I hear it when you say it with your eyes. I hear everything you want to tell me when you look at me," he replies softly.
Justin slides his hands under me, lifts me for a moment, and then gently lowers me onto him, holding in my gasp by pressing his lips to mine. Every inch of him slips into me comfortably. He growls his pleasure at the back of his throat while I sink to the root of his hardness. My arms wrap around his head and I start playing with his hair.
For a moment we are motionless, enjoying our connected bodies as we breathe as one. Our mouths open for each other passionately. My musky scent is still on his chin.
Finally he begins to raise and lower me in his lap so slowly that I only sense the motion when I feel my body lift away from him and my face tilts to keep my lips on his. Then I feel his cock pushing back inside me, gliding along my wet labia until my clitoris is pressed into the base of him. It's like I weigh nothing on his strong hands and arms. There's no effort, no strain in his muscles, only a demanding lust that compels him.
When I'm up at the tip of him, the air makes the wetness cold on my exposed womanhood. I welcome the warmth of his chiseled body when my wetness is pressed back to him.
I will cum again, and he knows it. My vaginal muscles squeeze around him in compulsive spasms, clenching him to no avail. Justin neither stops, nor speeds up, holding us to this maddening pace. Chills cover me, and the hair on my neck stands from the excitement and admiration of his reserve.
After some time has passed, my orgasm is threatening. He's not far behind. I can hear his breath growing deep and quick, and I know him well now. He will make me cum first, unwilling to climax until he's sure that I have, but I can make us cum together. That's what I want for Christmas, to make love with him, to meld our passion together.
His breathing increases.
My orgasm crawls to the edge.
Without warning him, I unfurl my folded legs from around him and flatten them to the floor. His faces registers the complete surprise as I grab his shoulders before he can react and begin slamming myself down on him, more than tripling the pace he'd set, squatting and lifting myself.
"OH GOD!" he shouts.
I'm so turned on, and I have his hardness burying into my G-spot when my second orgasm explodes, and I feel like I'm flooding his lap.
Justin shouts again, but it's no longer words, just a long, joyous release as we cum together, squeezing each other closer, tighter. It stops my squatting, but we no longer need that, both of us draining together under the contracting and releasing of our bodies. I have my head nestled into his neck, moaning loudly into his ear.
His strong arms hold me as I bear down on him, my pussy milking and clenching every drop of his climax, until we are both reduced to sensitive, spent lovers unable to move.
We find each other’s mouths again, and finish the same way we started, kissing under the pretty lights of our Christmas tree, grateful to have found each other.
I HAD PLANNED TO wake up before Justin in the morning for a c
hange to make him breakfast in bed. I wanted to bring his gifts in here and wake him up that way, presents around our bed, getting to watch him sleep.
When my eyes open, the room is still dim and silent. I'm afraid to move; I have to be careful. For several minutes I just listen, waiting for sounds. It's hard to hear over my own thumping heart, but I find his breathing, long steady drags of calm air. He isn't moving at all, not a flinch or tick, nothing.
Slowly, oh so very slowly, I turn my face toward him so that I can keep my eyes on him while I slide out of bed. I have to do this right.
I see the shape of him in the blankets, motionless. I turn further and find one of his arms laying limp on the outside of our covers. Then I find his face, those fire green eyes looking at me under his amazing smile.
"Are you trying to wake up and sneak out of bed before me?" he teases.
"Son-of-a-bitch! You couldn't give me this one?" I hiss at him while he laughs.
I'm mad, really made at him, but he doesn't care. He finds enough joy in my sentiment of trying that he didn't need me to be successful.
I wanted to be successful! Dammit!
"I'm sorry," he whispers. “I don't do it on purpose. I can't help myself."
There's no condescending in his voice. He's not teasing or pacifying me and my anger begins to shrink.
How could it not?
I turn over and lay my arm along his chest. My fingertip plays with his left nipple and he laughs and moves my hand. I know it bothers him—that's exactly why I did it.
"Now we’re even," I whisper. He laughs again and squeezes me in his strong arms. "I had plans," I said.
"Don't worry about plans today, everything is taken care of."
"What do you mean?" I ask curiously.
He smiles again. "You'll find out when it's time." I love the mystery.
We laid there long enough for me to wake up all the way. The Christmas morning excitement I'm feeling won't let me relax, so I drag him into the kitchen to make us breakfast—at least I get part of my plan accomplished.
Justin only smiles at me as I cook.
"I know it won't be as amazing as something you could probably make," I defend nervously.
"Bullshit," he barks. "It looks and smells wonderful. Besides, I suck at breakfast—to be honest."
"Really?" I ask stunned, and relieved.
OMG! Something he's not great at?
"It's true," he answers, easily laughing at himself. "I'm not sure why, but I really know how to fuck up a pancake."
He makes me laugh.
"You're so beautiful in the morning," he says, I think to change the subject.
"As opposed to the rest of the day?" I quip.
"Yes," he replies flatly. "You're only beautiful in the morning—the rest of the day you're gorgeous."
He stands behind me as I stir our eggs, folding his arms around my waist and kissing my neck. "I love you," he says in between the soft touches of his lips.
We bring the food out to use the temporary dining table from last night one last time before it's taken away. Justin insists on turning on the tree lights before we eat, and he's right, it adds a cozy feeling that does settle my excitement enough that I can finish eating before I begin reaching for the gifts that I want him to open.
Now several of them are piled around him waiting to be torn open.
"Hold on," he laughs. He digs under the tree and pulls out a couple for me. "We'll do this together."
I'm saving the best for last. I'm not sure how they will go over with him, I know he'll like them, but I want him to love them. We shuffle through several very nice boxes for each other, a blue, long sleeve Armani that makes me drool when I think about it on him, a pleated, red dress by Jason Wu that makes me drool when I think about it on me.
Ha ha—and when he rips it off me!
The pile under the tree shrinks, and the mess around us grows. "I'm saving my best for last, too," Justin says, reading how excited I'm getting as I study the last few things I have for him. "You'll have to wait for it, though. It's not here. It's not a thing."
Okay, now I'm overly curious. What the hell?
Justin takes the box I pass him. It's not very large, and he stares at it as if it confuses him. "I usually have an idea about a gift before I open it, but I don't have a clue with this," he says truthfully as he begins to pick at the edge of the wrapping paper.
Once it's in his hands, he still seems unsure, staring down at a digital picture player in his hands. "It's nice," he says.
I laugh at him. "That's not so much the gift. You need to open it and turn it on."
"Ah," he says with a nervous chuckle.
He pulls the player out of its box as looks for the power button. It comes on, displaying a short splash screen of the manufacturer’s logo. Justin watches the screen and a picture of me comes up smiling at him.
He smiles back without realizing he's doing it.
After ten seconds the picture changes to the next. It's me holding a sign that says, "I love and adore you."
Ten seconds later it changes again. "For our first Christmas together, I want to give you something special that you didn't have in the past."
Ten more seconds. "After my next picture, find the channel selector on the bottom of the frame and change it."
I get my envelopes ready.
The last picture comes up. I know that it's me holding a sign that reads, "For Christmas—I'm giving you your childhood. This time you can spend it with me."
I'm nervous, and Justin is bewildered as he changes the player to the second channel.
"I found all of your old photos and had some turned digital. They display for ninety seconds each. I hope that's enough for you to open these as you watch." I hand him the first envelope while a picture of him with his dad comes up.
In the picture, both of them are wearing baseball gloves and Yankee caps. For a moment he just stares at the picture, lost in it, drawing out the memory of that day and the time with his father, then he pulls the envelope flap and slips out two home plate tickets for the Yankees.
"Wow." His voice is soft and shaky. It was the only word he had at the moment. I've never seen him so wonderfully emotional.
I hand him the next envelope and the picture changes. He's sailing with his father in this one. His childish smile is enormous, just like his father's. From the envelope he pulls reservations for an all-day sailing trip aboard the Adirondack on the New York Harbor.
His father holding him on a pony, and a session at Claremont Riding Academy.
Holding a football with his dad in a Dallas Cowboys jersey and Cowboy's tickets with hotel reservations.
The finale pictures are next. These have me the most nervous.
A picture of him and his father holding up a goldfish in a plastic bag that's obviously just won, that I've paired with tickets for SeaWorld in Florida. Justin's eyes twinkle while he remembers that day.
And finally the two of them with Mickey Mouse ears on. His father looked so damn happy and proud in the photo. Justin slides out reservations for the Polynesian at Disney and park passes. By this time, Justin is struggling to hide the wetness in his eyes, and I am not hiding my tears at all.
"This—" His voice cut out, and he clears his throat to try again. "Charity, this is incredible. Thank you so much. I'd forgotten all about these pictures, and I can't believe you found them." He keeps staring at the last photo. "This was the only time I've ever been there. I haven't had a family, no reason to go back. This—" His voice goes again. "This is more than a gift, Charity, you're my reason to go back."
"You really like it?" I ask, still unsure of myself and my message.
"It's the best thing anyone has ever given me—I love it. It makes my surprise for today seem small."
Thank Christ!
"There are a lot more photos for the viewer. I have them all on the thumb drive for it."
Justin stands up and steps close to me. There's something so different, so amazing in
his eyes. There really are not words for the emotion he's showing, and I am swept up in it. His hands grab my face and hold it as he draws himself closer. I watch his eyes close a moment before mine do the same, and his forceful lips press into mine, opening them for his wonderful tongue. The world vanishes into oblivion and leaves us falling.
BECAUSE TONY IS OFF for the holiday, Justin has a service pick us up. He still hasn't told me anything about this other surprise of his and where we are going, only that this car ride is part of it. I recognize before we get there that we're heading for the airport where he keeps his Hawker, and I'm not surprised by now to see that it's ready to go and Shain is there waiting for us.
"Where are we going?"
Justin just laughs. I can't give him too much trouble—I see the same thrill and anxiety in him that I felt giving him his gift earlier. He was respectful to me and I should be the same.
There's a woman sitting next to Shain in the cockpit area of the plane. I wasn't expecting that. "That is Shain's fiancé," Justin tells me, seeing my confusion. "Shain was good enough to work on Christmas Day, but I wanted to sweeten the deal. I ordered him to bring her where we are going, made reservations and everything is taken care of for them to have almost as wonderful a day as we will."
I can see the excitement in her eyes despite that it's obvious Shain coached her on how to act in front of Justin—JP.
In the sky, I have no idea where we are headed. I'd really thought once we got going, I would recognize the direction, but it obvious to me now how easy it is to get turned around once you're off the ground. We didn't go far, that much I know. We were up and then down, just like that.
Quicker than D.C.
Two limos were waiting for us when we landed. One was for Shain and his lady, the other Justin whisked us off in quickly while Shain took care of the plane.
As we're driven, Justin pulls a blindfold from his jacket and insists I wear it. "We're close enough, and you'll understand the surprise in just a little bit. Just let me have this a bit longer," he pleads.
