He took his hands from where they were, curled around his headboard where he’d promised to keep them, and twisted, his movement making her lose hold and throwing her back.
He caught her at the waist, hauled her around to his front, then up. His other hand going to his dick, he pulled her down, the head of his cock slid through her wet as she wound her legs around his hips, and he found her.
He surged up as he yanked her down and her head flew back with her, “Yes.”
He walked on his knees until he had her back tight to the headboard and then he hammered her.
“This feel illegal, gum drop?” he asked.
“Yes, baby,” she gasped.
“Tit, Greta,” he ordered.
She took a hand from clenching his ass to put it to her breast and lift it to him. He kept pounding inside her as he bowed his back and sucked it hard into his mouth.
She jolted in his arms, he felt that jolt in his cock and not because her pussy spasmed around it, and she started shifting her hips to meet his thrusts.
He circled her nipple and muttered, “Other one,” against it.
She exchanged hands, one now in his hair, one to her other breast, and lifted it for him.
He took it with his mouth.
She ground into his drives.
“Baby,” she whimpered.
He let her nipple go, quickly slid his middle finger between his lips and out, wetting it. He then put his lips to hers and kept hold of her with one arm, the other hand he slid down her spine, over her ass, through the cleft, and he dug that middle finger up her ass to the second knuckle.
That did it.
“Hixon,” she breathed, bucked, cried out, and her pussy throbbed around him.
Her reaction took him over the edge and he drilled her against the headboard, shoving his finger all the way in at the back only to hear her moan and feel her legs wrap tighter around him as he exploded, thankfully now able to do it ungloved since she’d got her ass on the Pill, shooting deep inside.
Hix came down with his face in her neck, sliding his finger gently out but keeping her planted on his dick.
“No fair,” she muttered hazily into the skin of his neck.
“No fair?” he asked, grinning into the skin of hers.
“You hadn’t won the bed wrestling match of the millennium part two to earn your right to take my ass.”
He lifted his head, looked down at her beautiful, sated face and asked an unnecessary question, “You didn’t like it?”
She rolled her eyes and didn’t bother to answer his unnecessary question.
He pressed her into the headboard, tightening his hold on her with his arms, getting her complete attention.
“That wasn’t taking your ass, sweetheart. That wasn’t even fingering your ass. That was staking a future claim when I win our bed wrestling match of millennium part two.”
“I’m totally buying lube,” she declared.
“Good idea.” He grinned at her.
Her eyes narrowed. “For you.”
He busted out laughing.
“I’m so gonna win, Hix.”
“Right,” he snickered through his continuing laughter.
“You’ll see.”
He did his best to sober, was shit at it, so was still chuckling when he said, “You’re right. We’ll definitely see.”
“I should have spanked you when I had your hands to the headboard,” she snapped.
He put his mouth to hers and held her eyes, “Now we’re totally havin’ our rematch ’cause that’s a good idea, and you got a great ass, baby, but it’ll be pretty, takin’ my cock, all pink.”
Her eyes got big right before she nipped his lip and did it hard.
He took her mouth.
She smacked his ass.
He pulled her off his cock, tossed her to her belly on the bed and covered her, shoving both hands beneath her, each going separate directions, all this while burying his face in her neck.
And from there, Hix commenced proving to his woman he could still go all night.
They both had work the next day.
They both dragged their asses all day that next day.
And they both thought it was totally worth it.
“Okay, I got the stocking stuffer candy and the stocking stuffers are all bagged in different bags to make it easy to stuff them tomorrow night after the kids go to sleep, but they’re not wrapped. Andy wants to help me do that. We’ll do it tomorrow while the kids are with Hope at Jep and Marie’s. But I got the tissue paper. Christmas plaid for Shaw, snowflakes for Corinne, candy canes for Mamie. I already wrapped Andy’s in star paper. Your paper, I’m not gonna say, you’ll see on the day, but that’s also done,” Greta prattled.
Hix was sitting at a stool at his kitchen island (Corinne, Mamie and Greta had chosen his new stools, Shaw, Andy and Hix had approved them, but it was Hix who bought them) watching his woman pace around the island.
She had a pen in one hand and a huge legal pad in her other that she was flipping through, back and forth, in what Hix would suspect Santa would do with his list if he used a pad and not a huge-ass scroll.
“Babe—” he tried to cut in to find a gentle way to tell her he didn’t give a shit what kind of tissue paper his kids’ stocking stuffers were wrapped in and they should also get a move on because the sun was setting and they needed to go get her brother.
“Nuts in their shells, check. Always have to have nuts with shells so you can use the nutcracker,” she declared. “We’re having Coke-glazed ham.” She opened the fridge. “Ham in fridge, check. Two-liter of Coke, check. Four more two-liters of Coke for you, Shaw and Andy. Check. Diet for us girls, check. Hash brown casserole.” She closed the fridge and opened the freezer. “Hash browns, check.” She shuffled to the pantry, tapping the end of her pen to the pad as she called it down. “Cookie stuff. Check. Roll mix. Check. Stuff to make Chex mix. Check.”
“Sweetheart—”
Still tapping her pad with each “check,” she went on like she hadn’t heard him, which she probably hadn’t. “Crackers. Check. Chips. Check.” Back across the room to the fridge she opened. “Deli meat. Check. Blocks of cheese for crackers. Check. Cheese slices for sandwiches. Check. Grated cheese. Check. Makings for cheese ball. Check. Philadelphia cheese. Check. Three types of bread—”
Christ.
There was more cheese in his house than all of Wisconsin.
“Greta,” he pushed out through laughter.
She whirled on him and abruptly changed subjects. “Where’s Mamie’s barre?”
“Like I told you three times, Tommy’s bringing it over Christmas morning, early. He’s gonna put it up when he gets here. If we’re still asleep, he’s got a key.”
“We won’t be asleep. It’s the law you don’t get up past five o’clock Christmas day. Will he be able to get here before five?” she asked.
“I know the law pretty well, baby, and I’m not sure that’s the law,” he told her through a smile he knew was immense because it was hurting his face.
“It’s a Christmas law, smokey, and only Santa gets to be sheriff of that.”
That was when his gut hurt from stopping himself from busting out laughing.