“Y-yes.” In fact, my legs were about to buckle. I leaned back against the dining table.
As soon as I did, Charlie jumped up from the chair and grabbed the burning pillar candle I’d nearly toppled. He blew it out and set it off to one side before pushing me back all the way. Opening my thighs, he lowered his mouth to my pussy, ravaging me with his lips and tongue through the soaked lingerie. Crying out, I came immediately, my body convulsing on the table, my fingers buried in his hair.
When the shock waves subsided, I raked my nails across his scalp. “That felt so good,” I whispered. “But I thought you wanted to watch me do it.”
“I overestimated my patience.” His voice was rough, gravelly. “It’s been too long.” He kissed his way up my belly to my breasts, circling each nipple with his tongue, making me arch up beneath him. Finally he sealed his mouth to mine, kissing me with the flavor of peach and vanilla and sex on his lips.
“Charlie Dwyer,” I whispered, placing my hands on the sides of his face, lifting his head. “I’m so in love with you.”
He smiled. “Is that your orgasm talking?”
I laughed, running my hands through his short, thick hair. “No. It’s the truth. I’m in love with you. You make me so happy.”
“I want to.” He kissed me again. “I want to make you happy more than anything. Forever.”
“Well, forever is nice, but you know what would make me happy right now?”
He put his lips at my ear. “You want to get fucked on the dining room table.”
My nipples tingled. “Yeah. Hard.”
He straightened up and reached into his back pocket. A moment later, I felt him tugging down the drenched panties, then he curled his hands around the outsides of my thighs, hitching them up to his hips. Hooking my fingers over the edge of the table, I dug my heels into his ass, pulling him closer. “Jesus, your legs are incredible,” he rasped as he slid inside me. “I want them wrapped around me twenty-four hours a day.”
“Oh God,” I breathed as he pulled out and slid deep, over and over. The way my hips were tilted up afforded him an angle that had the tip of his cock hitting that spot deep inside me, the one that tightened my core muscles involuntarily, as if to grab on and keep him there.
He brought his thumb to my sensitive little button and rubbed slow, wet circles on it, making me shiver and pant. The nerve endings were so stimulated I felt electrical pulses shooting from my center through my limbs, every vein a live wire, a lit fuse.
“Charlie,” I whimpered. “I’m on fire. Do it.”
But he kept the same torturously slow pace with his cock, easy and steady and sweet, while his thumb drove me mad with the need to be fucked hard and fast. Did he want me to beg?
“Charlie.” I squeezed him with my legs, fisted my hands in the tablecloth. “Please. Harder.”
He laughed before plunging into me so hard and deep I bit my tongue. Then he did it again. And again. And again.
“Like that?” he snarled, his fingers digging into my thighs. “Is that how she wants to be fucked on her dining room table?” He punctuated words with sharp jabs of his cock I swear I could feel between my ribs. And I loved it when he talked that way, like it was a fantasy I was directing and starring in.
“Yes, yes…” I dropped my head to the side as he changed the rhythm to quick, rocking thrusts, his thumb working faster. “Just like that. Oh fuck…” My lower body tightened up again, my muscles contracting with exquisite torture. Oh God, so close, so close, the most beautiful kind of madness… “Don’t stop. Don’t stop.” I snaked my fingers in my hair, yanking it from the neat twist into a wild mess. “Never stop. Promise me you won’t ever stop.”
“Never,” he growled, and this time the word never had me smiling deliriously as he took us both beyond the brink. Over and over again our bodies throbbed together, releasing the pent-up tension of too much time apart and sharing the thrill of a new beginning.
#
Later, we sat on the couch by a crackling fire with our Christmas presents on the table in front of us. Charlie had removed his coat and tie and rolled the cuffs of his shirt, and I’d put on dry panties and a t-shirt, although Charlie had voted for topless.
He’d brought one gift for me, a medium-sized box wrapped in holiday paper and topped with a shiny red bow.
“I have two presents for you.” I smiled ruefully, glancing at the two boxes for him on the table. “I got you a bottle of whiskey too, but I opened it already.”
He laughed. “Did you finish it?”
“No.”
“Then pour some.”
“I will, but open this present first.” I handed him the smaller of the two gifts.
He unwrapped the old-fashioned glasses and took them out, a smile on his face. They were etched—one said Yours; the other, Mine. “Adorable.”
“Too girly?” I wrinkled my nose.
“Not at all. I love them. They are now the nicest glasses I own, as you will realize once you brave seeing my kitchen, which is a hodgepodge of junk I’ve collected over the years.”
I shuddered. “Fear not. I will help you organize. It will be my project for this year.”
He leaned over and kissed my head. “Thanks.”
I rinsed the new glasses and poured us each a small amount of the Christmas whiskey. “Now this one.” I handed him the big box. He opened it up and laughed when he saw the stack of towels.