Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

‘ I t’s not all about the dick and the climax.’ Jack placed a soft kiss on her collarbone and another to the hollow of her throat. He traced the frantic rhythm of her pulse with his tongue.

He needed to rein himself in, not rush this. Not with her. He was playing a different game here, a more deliberate one.

‘Tonight is about what feels good.’ His fingers intertwined with hers. ‘I’m going to make you forget all about the destination and enjoy the journey.’ He stood up and reached out a hand. ‘Come here.’

Jack pulled her up and found the hem of her jumper. Slowly, he inched it upwards. Trish lifted her arms to help him as if she couldn’t wait to be skin-on-skin with him. Her bra – plain black cotton. No frills, no flourishes, no nonsense. Practical and real. She wasn’t trying to be sexy, to put on a show. She was herself. That was all he needed. And fuck, the way her little nubs strained against the thin fabric… A zap of lighting straight to his cock.

Plain cotton doing it for you, MacGregor? Who knew?

Jack leaned in to press a kiss to the swell of her breast. ‘Dear God, I’ve wanted to do this again for three months.’

He smiled as she let out a soft sigh. His hands cupped her breasts, thumbs teasing her nipples through the thin fabric. She came alive under his touch. ‘You’re doing a damn good job of getting me hot and bothered, Shutterbug.’

She moaned at his words.

The sentiment was clearly mutual.

Good.

Her hands hesitated for a moment before sliding under his t-shirt. ‘If the hundreds of ladies in your DMs knew that I’m the one getting to fuck Sexy Santa…’ She trailed off, voice laced with self-deprecating humour.

‘You’re not. You’re getting to fuck me , Trish.’

Jack peeled off his shirt and jeans with the practised ease of a man who’d lost count of the number of times he’d undressed for this very purpose. Her pupils dilated as her gaze fell onto the festival tent in his boxers, main stage. It made him smile.

His palms tracked her body’s contours. Waist dipping, hips flaring. He hooked his thumbs into her sweatpants and tugged carefully, like unwrapping a gift. His knuckles slid along her legs, the firmness of her muscles, the softness of her curves.

His lips skimmed her ear, his voice a husky murmur. ‘Tell me what gets you off. What makes you feel good? I want to hear it from you.’

Something glimmered in her gaze, and her palm landed on his skin like a brand. He felt mapped, claimed, combustible.

‘This,’ she whispered. ‘The way your heart beats against my palm.’

His brain went haywire. He hadn’t seen that coming. ‘Aye, I like that too.’

Jack dropped onto the rug, pulling her down with him. ‘Lie back.’ Propped on an elbow, watching her. ‘Trust me?’

‘Yes, I do.’

Her genuine smile knocked the air out of his lungs. Fuck. That trust was dynamite, set to detonate something fundamental inside him. He wanted to guard it. Cherish it.

Jack dug the candy cane from the pocket of his discarded jeans, the ones crumpled on the floor, like their inhibitions. He peeled back the wrapper and traced the striped hook over her collarbone. Time to play and ease her tension, take her mind off things, make her relax. He twirled it between his fingers and rested it against her lips.

‘Suck on it like you sucked my dick that day,’ he said. ‘Do it slow. Make my cock jealous.’

‘Are you…serious?’ Surprise flicked across her face before it melted into something else. Something…pliant. ‘That’s not the same.’

‘Oh, baby, I know.’ He grinned. ‘Go on.’

Her tongue darted out, tracing a languid swirl around the candy. Her full lips closed around the stick. And she sucked. A long, deep draw. And another.

In. Out.

Fuck.

Jack tracked the movement of her lips like a laser. That pink tongue darting, teasing. She was playing along, and Christ, she was good at it.

In. Out. In. Out. Each draw a provocation.

Her eyes flicked and collided with his. And there – raw, naked – he saw it, that yearning to please. To be witnessed. To matter. She wanted to make him happy.

‘That’s it.’ His voice was a low growl. ‘You’re doing so well.’

She made little smacking noises, and damn if he didn’t feel that mouth of hers right on him, hot and slick. He was hard as a rock, his dick pushing against his boxers like it was trying to bust out of jail. But this wasn’t about him. He wanted her loose, playful, at ease.

‘Show me how bad you want it.’ He plucked the candy from her mouth.

She reflexively tipped forward, trying to capture it again, but Jack pulled it just out of her reach. Her tongue swept her lips, chasing the lost sweetness.

‘Say pretty please, and I’ll give it to you.’ He trailed the candy cane down her body, dipping into the valley between her breasts, skating over her stomach, leaving a trail of goosebumps. ‘Because good girls get what they beg for.’

‘Jack,’ she gasped, melting against the rug, every muscle unwinding in a slow surrender – as if she’d been waiting a lifetime to say this one word. ‘ Please .’

His gaze roved over her, taking in the flush of her skin, the rapid rise and fall of her chest. She was pure, unfiltered need. And fuck, he matched her pulse for pulse.

‘Shhh,’ he soothed, following the subtle line from her waist down to her thigh towards the seam of her thong. ‘Just feel, baby.’

Jack hooked his fingers beneath the elastic, sliding it aside. ‘It’s only you and me.’ He slipped the candy cane between her thighs, pressing it against her clit, circling it. ‘Feel that meeting your sweet spot?’

She nodded, her teeth sinking into her lower lip, but he craved more. He wanted her words. ‘Tell me, Trish. Tell me how it feels.’

‘Tingling,’ she whispered. ‘Cold.’

Jack shot her a wicked smile. ‘Then we have to warm it up a little.’ He traced the line of her wetness. With a deliberate pace that made his own pulse thunder, Jack eased the candy cane inside her, just an inch.

His voice dropped. ‘Such a horny girl, all soaked and ready.’ Jack twisted the candy cane, pushing it deeper, drawing a moan from her. He brought it to his lips. ‘Mmm…you’re delicious. Here, try some.’

Her eyes fluttered open, and she leaned forward, her tongue tentatively touching the candy cane. Her lips sealed around it, drawing it in. Tasting herself.

‘That’s it, baby. That’s how sweet you are.’ He put the candy cane aside. His smile stretched wide. ‘Let’s find out how much sweeter you can get.’

Jack’s heart thumped in his ears as he settled between her thighs. His lungs seized mid-breath at the sight of her laid out like a goddamn feast. ‘You’re so fucking gorgeous.’

All soft pink flesh and glistening wetness, the delicate curls of her dark hair shimmering. The bead of her clit, the way her sex parted… He pushed his thumbs into the yielding flesh of her thighs, easing them wider, making space for himself.

This was it. The moment he’d been dreaming about since September. The scent of her arousal, thick and heady, made his mouth water.

‘Beg nicely.’ His breath fanned over her slick sex. ‘Tell me what you want.’

Her hips bucked. ‘Jack, I…’ A broken sound.

‘What do you need?’

‘I…need your…your mouth…’ She gasped. ‘Right here.’ Her hands dug into his hair, and she hiccupped, ‘ Please .’

A charge rippled through him at the desperation in her voice.

He dipped his head, his tongue lashing out to taste her. She was fucking exquisite, her flavour bursting on his tongue. He groaned, the sound vibrating against her flesh, and her back arched off the rug.

It wasn’t the way her taste grabbed him. It was something deeper that drew him in, that made his heart race and his cock pulse and his mind go blank. It was the way she responded to him. The way she felt in his hands, in his mouth. When he touched her, she dissolved. Genuine. Vulnerable. Pure. Like he was the only man who made her feel this way.

Jack savoured every shiver that rolled through her body. He circled her clit with his tongue, flicked at it lightly, then pressed flat against it.

‘Fuck, Jack!’ Trish’s voice was strangled. ‘Jesus Christ…oh fuck …’

‘I’m glad you’re enjoying it.’ With a smile, Jack slid one digit inside her, and her walls rippled around his finger, so hot and soft. ‘You enjoy that, too? I bet you fucking love it. And I bet you need more.’

She could only moan in response, pushing her hips against his face. He pumped his finger harder, stretching her.

‘Yes! I…’ Trish whimpered, her head thrashing from side to side. ‘Please…I need…’

He licked a slow stripe up her sex. ‘Tell me.’

‘I need…to come,’ she sobbed. ‘Please, Jack… God. Ohhh God.’

With a deep groan, Jack plunged his middle- and ring finger knuckle-deep into her. He curled them and felt her clench around his digits.

Yes, baby. Give it up.

He pumped harder and deeper. Like he had something to prove. Trish reared up, her trembling thighs clamping around his head. His tongue flicked mercilessly over her clit in sync with his hand.

‘Fuck, Jack!’ Trish cried out, her voice strangled. ‘You’re going to… I’m so cl-close… Don’t stop, please don’t stop!’

His own hips twitched as she flew apart with a choked scream, her back arching off the rug. And from between Trish’s trembling thighs, Jack felt the ground shift. Her orgasm crashed over her like an avalanche, her body convulsing as a rush of slick, sweet arousal flooded his tongue.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The sheer intensity of her release… Keeping his fingers buried deep, he was drunk on her pleasure, gasping between laps as her thighs shook. He gentled his touch as she came down from her high.

Trish slumped back on the rug, legs splayed, chest heaving. Sweat glistened on her skin, her pulse thundering beneath his tongue. He placed tiny, tender kisses on her inner thighs.

‘That was…’ Her voice was raspy, breathless. ‘Wow. Holy… Wow.’

She tugged at his hair, and Jack climbed up her body, drawn by her grip.

He looked at her with a contented grin. ‘You’re a force of nature when you come.’ Then he kissed her damp temple. ‘Made me want to gather up all those pretty cries and never let them go.’

She breathed out a laugh and trailed a finger down his chest. ‘So, Santa, what’s next on your naughty list?’

Jack shuddered at her touch. He rolled his hips, letting her feel how achingly hard she’d made him. ‘I’m thinking…’ He dragged his tongue along the shell of her ear. ‘I want to sink my fat cock into you and fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk straight.’

Trish sucked in a breath. Then she giggled. She fucking giggled . ‘Okay.’

He nipped at her earlobe. ‘Hey, I’m not joking.’

‘Oh, I hope not.’

‘You don’t?’

‘I…’ Trish’s gaze flicked to his boxers. ‘I liked how you felt inside me.’ Her cheeks caught fire. ‘I don’t need to come for this to feel good.’

Christ, this fucking woman.

Jack’s mouth crooked sideways. ‘Looks like Santa’s got a very horny elf on his hands.’ His hand settled on her ass, fingers sinking into her flesh with a quiet, possessive squeeze. ‘You know what I love about this arse?’

Trish raised an eyebrow. ‘The fact that it’s attached to me?’

Jack laughed, his fingers skating along her globes. ‘That’s a given. But no, it’s this…’ He squeezed again. ‘It’s so round and plump. And it’s all fucking mine.’

‘Yours?’ Her voice was breathy. ‘What makes you think I’m going to hand it over?’

‘Because I know you want to feel me gripping it while I fuck you from behind. You want to feel me so deep that you can’t think because I’m hitting on your prefrontal cortex.’

Her lids drifted shut for a second, and she smiled. ‘Can’t argue with that.’

Jack got up and shed his boxers, letting them pool at his feet. Her gaze burned over him, drinking him in with a raw, unguarded awe that made his skin spark.

‘Like what you see?’ He stroked himself slowly, lazily, enjoying the way her pupils dilated and her tongue traced a quick, wet path across her lips.

‘Mmm,’ she hummed, eyes locked on his dick like a target. ‘I don’t even need my glasses to see… you .’

Jack laughed and reached for his wallet, pulling out a condom. His fingers fumbled like a nervous rookie, the foil crackling. But her half-smile and that quiet, waiting look settled him. He ripped the wrapper. One roll, smooth as a sleight of hand, and done.

‘What do you want, Shutterbug?’

Trish turned around and got on her knees, back arched. ‘I want the big candy cane.’

God help me.

Jack kneeled behind her, thumbs digging into the soft flesh of her hips. His cock throbbed at the sight. He’d always appreciated a woman with meat on her bones, and Trish was a fucking banquet. He couldn’t wait to be inside her, to feel that lush flesh surrounding him, gripping him.

‘You ready to take me all the way?’

Trish pressed against him. ‘Yes, Jack…I need you…deep.’

He lined himself up, his shaft nudging at her entrance. She grunted a frustrated little moan, and he almost laughed at how cute she was, her head dropping forward as she tried to push back against him. But he held her still.

She pushed against his hold. ‘Please, Jack…’

His balls tightened painfully at her plea. He rubbed the tip of his cock along the smooth lips of her sex. ‘Oh, you’re going to be feeling me for days.’

And with one slow roll of his hips, he slid into her.

‘Oh my fucking God!’ Trish’s back bowed, fingers digging into the rug. ‘Yes! Ah, YES!’

‘Fuck, Trish. You feel so good. Dammit!’

The understatement of the century. A big sneeze felt good. Being buried balls-deep inside Trish seriously messed him up.

Jack pulled out slowly, almost all the way, before gliding back into her. His pleasure centre exploded, his brain melted, and his heart along with it.

‘That’s it, Jack. Yes, yes, yes…like that…’

The sight of her – bent forward, the globes of her cheeks cushioned against his groin – was enough to make him lose control. He mentally told himself to hold on, not to come too fast. But a nuclear blast of sensation scattered his synapses and scorched every nerve ending.

Her body tensed as she pushed back. ‘I love this,’ she moaned. ‘I’m so full…so full… And it feels so good.’

Jack’s hips moved faster, his thrusts becoming more urgent, and there was nothing – absolutely fuck all – he could do about it. She keened, and pleasure detonated inside him, white-hot and feral, rewiring his entire circuitry.

‘I want you…to come, Jack. I want to…feel you come…inside me. Feel you…’

‘Jack groaned, the sound torn from deep within his chest. She clenched around him, her body gripping him, drawing him deeper. The tight heat of her was making him lose his goddamn mind. As if she’d been cast to accommodate his dick. Taking him as if he’d belonged there.

He wanted to belong there.

His pulse hammered in his ears, matching the rhythm of their bodies colliding. With each drive into her snug pussy, he bottomed out. Pure bliss.

‘Oh God, Trish… Fuck. I can’t…’ The dimples on her lower back, the curve of her spine, the sight of him disappearing inside her… He felt every ripple, every quiver of her body like she was tuning him to her frequency.

‘You’re fucking destroying me…’ Jack barely recognised his own voice.

What the hell was happening? It was too much, too intense, too fucking phenomenal. He dug his hands into her hips. The coil in his guts wound tighter until he thought he might burst.

‘Shit.’ His hips thrust faster and harder, the wet slaps of their bodies echoing off the stone walls. ‘I can’t fucking stop.’

‘Yes! Yes! Jack… Don’t stop… You feel so…right…’

So right.

‘FUCK!’ Jack came with a roar, his body shaking with the force of it. He threw his head back as he jerked, going as deep as he could. It was almost painful like a part of him was being ripped away and instantly healed.

His body slumped forward as he rode out the last of his release, and his teeth found that sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder.

Holy mother of… That just rewrote my entire operating manual.

The last time he’d come this fast, he’d been eighteen.

Jack’s forehead rested against the nape of Trish’s neck, his breath coming in choppy pulls. His mind reeled, body trembling. It was like the sudden crack of ice splitting open beneath his feet, plunging him into depths he’d never expected.

With a soft kiss, he pulled out, disposing of the condom before pulling her into his arms as tightly as he could.

‘Trish, that was…’ But words failed him. There was nothing he could say that would do justice to what he was feeling. He nudged her hair with his nose, inhaling something deeper than her shampoo. Essence, memory, possibility. ‘You okay?’

Trish hummed against his chest. ‘Mmm-hmm. Just…processing.’

Processing. That was one way to put it. He was processing, too. Processing the fact that he’d come harder than he ever had, and not just from the physical release. It was…confusing.

He let his hand wander over her waist. ‘Anything you need to process out loud?’

‘Maybe later.’ She shifted slightly.

The way her leg casually draped over his, like she’d laid claim to him without even knowing it, sent a possessive surge through him, marking his every molecule with her name. Suddenly, he wanted to be the one she’d warm her cold feet with. And he’d never wanted to be that for anyone.

‘For now, I’m…enjoying this,’ she said.

‘Good. Me too.’ The quiet was nice, comfortable even, but the silence was also heavy with all the things they weren’t saying. Like how she was leaving soon. Like how this whole thing was supposed to be casual and felt anything but.

He kissed the top of her head. ‘You smell nice.’

‘So do you.’

‘That’s my aftershave. Got it from the weans last year for Christmas.’ He gave her a crooked grin. ‘Along with a pair of silly socks.’

She laughed. ‘You don’t deserve silly socks. Though you might deserve a spanking for that candy cane thing.’

‘Oh, you fucking loved it.’

‘Maybe.’ She bit her lip. ‘Maybe I liked it a little too much.’

Trish nestled deeper into the pillows, her eyes half-closed. Gone was the tension in her shoulders, the guarded look in her eyes. She looked…peaceful. Happy and calm. His gaze landed on her camera, sitting on the nightstand. An idea sparked.

‘Hold still for a second.’ Jack reached for her Leica.

‘What are you up to now?’

‘Nothing.’ He fiddled with the settings, hoping he wasn’t about to make a complete arse of himself. ‘I want to capture this moment.’

‘Mm, but I don’t like pictures.’ Her nose scrunched up adorably.

A quiet ache broke open in his chest. The kind that comes from seeing something precious not recognising its own worth. ‘Humour me, eh?’

He raised the camera, framing her in the viewfinder. Her hair was a mess, spread out on the pillow. Her lips were still swollen from his kisses. He zoomed in, capturing the way her eyelashes fanned against her cheek.

He wanted to remember this.

He wanted her to remember this.

‘You’re stunning, properly fucked six ways to heaven.’ He snapped a shot.

‘Flatterer.’ Trish’s cheeks pinked. ‘Put the camera away.’

‘Just stating facts.’ He took another photo. ‘Besides, it’s about time you were on the other side of the lens.’ He tried to capture the way the firelight danced in her hair, turning the dark strands to molten gold.

This was her. This was them. Right now.

It was all they had.

‘One more. For posterity.’ He framed her face in the lens. The soft glow of the bedside lamp swept over the curve of her cheekbone, the swell of her bottom lip.

‘Delete that,’ she mumbled, drowsy with sleep.

‘Nope.’ He lowered the camera, rested it on the side table, and laid back next to her. A smug grin spread across his face. ‘Prime blackmail material.’

Trish’s muffled laugh rumbled against him. ‘You’re such a git.’

He nuzzled his nose into her hair. ‘But you like me for it.’

‘Debatable.’ She stretched languidly, her leg tangling with his.

He pulled her tighter into his arm, and it was a gut punch how perfectly she fit there. He wanted to stay wrapped up in this moment forever, pretending the world outside didn’t exist. Snowed in forever.

She tucked her head under his chin. ‘What time is it? I can’t see it from here without my glasses.’

‘Late.’ He glanced at the glowing numbers of the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘Nearly one.’

‘Already?’ She yawned. ‘I’m knackered. All that moaning and suppressed screaming takes it out of you.’

He laughed softly. ‘You were the one doing the suppressed screaming, Shutterbug.’

‘You were the one making me scream suppressedly.’ She snuggled closer, her breath warm against his skin. ‘So technically, it’s your fault.’

A minute later, she was fast asleep in his arms. Safe and sound.

His real fault, though?

Still trying to believe that this was nothing but a bit of fun.