Under the Mistletoe with Me
Page 6

His erection is full and hard, and without touching it with my hands, I circle my tongue around the tip. Isaac gasps, sucking air in through his teeth and I grin as I stand back up.
“God, I want you.” His eyes travel from my face down my body, over my breasts, my stomach, legs and back up again and I return the favor, taking in his amazing body. Working construction for almost fifteen years has kept him in fantastic shape, his muscles tight and firm. His skin is still bronze from our trip to Tahiti. He’s clean shaven, but he needs a haircut. His dark blonde hair is wavy, and unruly from running his fingers through it. Mine are itching to get into it too.
But it’s his Montgomery blue eyes that have always captivated me, that prompted my nickname Eyes for him, a variation of his name, and those incredibly blue eyes. They’re smiling at me now, hot and full of promise and lust and if my panties were still on they’d be soaked.
He takes my hand and pulls me flush against him, links our fingers and rests our hands at the small of my back. I trace his chin with my nose, and push the fingers of my free hand through his soft hair.
“Stace,” he whispers. I gaze into his eyes as he gently kisses my lips.
“Yeah?”
“If you ever even think about me fucking around on you again,” he mutters, deceptively softly, against my lips, “I will spank the living shit out of you.”
My eyes go wide and I gape at him. Holy shit, this is new.
“Okay.” How the hell do I respond to that?
“I’m not kidding.” He pulls his fingers down my face, down my neck and cups my breast in his palm, worrying the tight nipple in his fingers. My head falls back and I bite my lip. “I haven’t looked at another woman in ten years.” His lips skim down my neck, and finally he cups my ass in his hands and lifts me, pivots, and lays me back on the bed. He crawls over me and rests his hard cock against my pussy while his mouth does incredibly naughty things to mine.
His tongue is strong and sure, insistent, dancing against my own. His elbows are planted on the bed at either side of my head and his fingers are buried in my hair. I run my hands down his smooth back to his ass and back up again. I love the feel of him. It never gets old.
I roll my hips, and gasp as the tip of his cock brushes against my clit.
“Ah, baby, you’re so wet,” he murmurs against my mouth and pulls back to rest his swollen head against my labia. I press my feet against his ass, urging him inside.
“I want you.”
With a growl he pushes inside me, burying himself to the root, and rests his forehead against mine. I gasp at the intrusion, my body still unused to making love after giving birth to our daughter, but he stills and lets me acclimate to him and the tiny pain subsides.
“You feel so good.”
“I’ve been doing my kegels.”
“Gazoontite.”
I burst out laughing, tightening around him, making him moan. “It means I’m exercising the muscles down there to tighten them back up from the pregnancy.”
“I know, I just love it when you laugh when I’m inside you.”
I grin up at him and take his face in my palms. “I love you, Eyes.”
He crushes his mouth to mine and moves faster, harder, grinding his pelvis against my clit with every stroke in and I feel the building inside me begin, my muscles tighten, my thighs clench. I grip his hair in my fingers and throw my head back as I come around him, surprised at how strong my orgasm is, and so happy that my body is starting to feel back to normal again.
“That’s right, baby, I wanna feel you come on my cock.”
“Shit!” I wrap my legs more tightly around his hips as I spasm around him, and I feel his own orgasm work its way through him. He thrusts once, then again and grinds into me forcefully, spilling himself inside me.
He collapses over me with a big sigh, rests his cheek on my shoulder and murmurs, “Only you, babe.”
***
I wake alone, disoriented. There’s a full moon shining brightly, illuminating the room. The bed is cold where Isaac was asleep a few hours ago and the house feels still.
I rise from the bed, stretching my arms over my head, feeling the pull of muscles well used this afternoon from our unexpected and hot lovemaking. I grin and push my hair back from my face. Perhaps we need an encore.
I wonder where he is.
I pad quietly down the dark hallway, expecting to go downstairs and find him in the kitchen, but as I pass Sophie’s room, I hear Isaac’s voice, speaking in hushed tones. The dim light on the dresser is on, sending a shadow across the hallway floor. I peek in, to see Isaac rocking gently in the lovely, plush sage-colored rocking chair he got me when I was pregnant. Sophie is resting in the crook of his elbow, suckling a bottle, her big blue eyes watching her daddy’s face.
God, I love them.
Isaac brushes his hand gently over her little head and smiles down at his daughter.
“You’re as pretty as your mommy, you know. I hope you get her hair. I love the color of her hair.” He’s whispering down at her, like they’re having a deep conversation, and Soph’s eyes are pinned to his, listening while she eats.
“You have her temper too, don’t you?” I grin to myself and lean my forehead against the door frame, listening out of sight. “That’s okay, it just means that you know what you want. You’ll give some poor bastard a run for his money. But not until your forty.”
Sophie sighs. “Okay, burp time, baby girl.” I hear rustling as he settles her on his shoulder to pat her back. “What should we get mommy for Christmas?”