His Christmas Miracle Read online

  "Father Christmas," I gasp when he slips his hand inside my panties and runs a finger across my slit. A powerful jolt of pleasure rips through me. "That feels good."

  "It'll feel a whole lot better soon," he says. The promise reflects in his eyes. He keeps his gaze locked on my face as he touches me, watching what he does to me.

  I watch him too, fascinated at how much he seems to enjoy giving me pleasure. The way his eyes darken until they're almost black is sexy. So is the pleased sound he makes when I tilt my head back against the wall and cry out his name.

  He explores every little part of me with his fingers, finding sensitive places that send more jolts of pleasure through me. There are so many of them. Jeez. I never knew this could feel so good. I've touched myself before, but it didn't feel like this, as if every nerve ending is being caressed all at once.

  His thumb grinds against my clit and I lose eye contact with him. My head thumps against the wall, my legs trembling beneath me. He makes another of those sexy sounds and drops to his knees in front of me. He's less gentle as he rips my panties down my legs and tosses them aside.

  "I need to taste you," he says, his voice a gritty rasp of sound I feel in my core. He wraps one big hand around my calf, lifting my leg to drape it over his shoulder. His eyes meet mine again, burning with need. "Hold on to me."

  I barely have time to grasp his shoulders before he wraps one arm around my waist to pull me closer. He uses the other to open me up to him. My cheeks burn to have him looking at me down there, but then he grits out a curse and my embarrassment disappears.

  "Christ, you're soft and pink everywhere," he growls, leaning in. He runs his lips up my thigh, setting off a chain reaction of little detonations inside me. When he sinks his teeth into my inner thigh, a bigger detonation explodes in my veins, turning my blood to liquid fire. He buries his face in my center. His tongue swipes through my folds and dances around my clit.

  "Sawyer!" I cry out, dazed.

  "I knew you'd taste like candy," he growls. He doesn't give me time to say anything before he turns into a hungry beast. His hold on me tightens and he eats me like a little boy in a candy store. His lips and tongue and teeth drive me crazy, setting off detonation after detonation, until I'm sobbing his name because the pleasure just builds and builds and then builds some more.

  His tongue runs around my clit in circles before he dips lower and pushes the tip of it into me. He jiggles it there, growling as he tries to push it in deeper. My nails embed themselves in his shoulder blades, his name leaving my lips in a high-pitched chant as the detonations of pleasure suddenly turn inward. They no longer explode in my veins but pile on top of one another deep inside my belly.

  "Fuck, this little thing is so tight and sweet. I can't wait to feel you wrapped around my cock," Sawyer says before attacking my clit again. He slips one finger inside me and then another, pushing and twisting and thrusting. His lips seam around my clit and he curls his fingers up to touch some magical spot inside me.

  All those stalled detonations go off at once, exploding like a wall of pleasure slamming into me. It's savage in its intensity, so much more powerful than anything I've ever felt before. I scream his name as it launches me into orbit. I come hard, lights bursting behind my eyelids in a whirling kaleidoscope of color.

  Sawyer eats me through it, growling and snarling. He's rough and possessive but so gentle at the same time as he guides me through it, crooning my name. The sound of his voice grounds my soul while the rest of me flies to heaven.

  And then he eases me back down to earth with sweet kisses to my clit and soft praises that have tears stinging my eyes. It's perfect. He's perfect.

  "Come on, sweet Lana," he croons when I finally land back in his arms, as safe as houses. He turns the shower off and reaches out to grab another towel.

  My body trembles as he dries me off. Even the fluffy towel against my overheated skin feels like sensory overload.

  As soon as I'm dry, he quickly yanks his boxers off and dries himself. Before I can get a good look at him, he scoops me up into his arms. My head lolls against his shoulder as he strides through the bathroom with me and then into his bedroom to lay me out on the bed. It's soft as a cloud.

  Rain still sheets down outside, blotting out our view of the city.

  "Sweet, sweet Lana," Sawyer whispers, following me down. His hard body covers mine. He brushes my hair back from my face, raining kisses across my cheeks and eyelids. "My perfect little star."

  I tilt my face up to his, greedy for more of his kisses.

  He chuckles and gives them to me, teasing me with his tongue and little bites to my bottom lip. I taste myself on him, taste the way our flavors mingle. I'm not sure if I'm supposed to like it or not, but there's something erotic and naughty about tasting myself on him.

  His erection nudges at my belly.

  I reach for him blindly, eager to get my hands on him.

  "Fuck," he groans when I brush my hand across the head of his cock. Moisture wets the tip, sliding down my knuckles. He's so hard and yet so soft at the same time. He's also a lot bigger than I expected. Then again, the rest of him is big and hard too. I guess it only makes sense for this part to be the same way.

  I explore him with my fingers, loving the way he pants for breath and moans as I trail my fingers down the underside of his cock and then drag them up the thick vein that runs the length of it. I try to fit my hand around him but can't. His balls are nestled in a tight thatch of curls.

  "Christ, you're killing me," he growls when I cup them in my hand and then roll them between my fingers. He bites my lip again, an impatient, greedy nip.

  I love it.

  "Make love to me, Sawyer," I whisper, stroking him from root to tip. I'm not really sure what I'm doing or if I'm doing it right, but he seems to like it.

  His breath rasps in his throat and his big body trembles over mine.

  "I want you inside me."

  "God, little star," he moans, reaching for my hand.

  He pulls it away from his erection, tangling our fingers up together. He grabs the other one and does the same thing, pinning them to the bed on each side of my head. I don't feel trapped or vulnerable beneath him though. He's powerfully strong, but I have the power here. He's all alpha, but he's also mine to command. I think, if I wanted to do it, I could probably rule him with a single word.

  "Shit."

  "What?"

  "I don't have a condom," he murmurs, meeting my gaze. His eyes rove over my face, his expression so fierce and serious. "Not sure I'd want to wear one with you even if I did have one, sweet girl. I want to feel all of you."

  "I…" I should tell him we need a condom, but I don't want to be responsible and safe with him. I want to be reckless and wild and throw every part of me into loving him. "What if I get pregnant?"

  "You think I wouldn't be the happiest man alive?" He arches a brow, hitting me with a look so hot, I'm pretty sure the bed just caught fire. "If you want babies, you're having mine, Lana. No one else's." He dips his head until his lips are at my ear. "I can't wait to see you with my babies."

  "I…I want that," I whisper the truth, my voice shaking at the thought of having this beautiful man's babies. That he wants it too gives me hope that he feels the same way I do…that we share the same sense of comfortable inevitability, as if what's between us was always meant to happen.

  We were both at the school last night for a reason, and not for the seemingly mundane ones we gave, but because we felt compelled to be there for reasons neither of us could explain. I could have dropped off the equipment today or any other day. But I didn't. He could have unpacked his office any other day. But he didn't. I think we chose last night because we were supposed to be there.

  I've always believed in the magic of Christmas, believed that extraordinary things happen this time of year, more so than at any other time. I think I was right.

  He's my extraordinary thing. My magic.

  "Sawyer?" I whisper, my hear
t racing.

  "Yeah, little star?"

  "I love you."

  His eyes meet mine, his lashes fluttering. The look of awe on his face, of joy…God, I want to see it there every day of forever. "You love me?"

  "So much," I whisper, tears trembling in my lashes.

  His forehead touches mine, a soft sigh washing across my face. "Sweet little star," he whispers reverently, his lips resting against mine. "I gave you my heart the first time I heard you laugh. I'm so hopelessly, ridiculously, happily in love with you."

  "Me too."

  He kisses me so sweetly the tears trembling in my lashes slip down my cheeks. We get lost in each other, in the powerful connection between us and the magic in the very air around us.

  He nudges my leg with his thigh, silently demanding that I open up for him.

  I give him what he wants, draping one leg over his thigh.

  "Kris Kringle," I gasp, arching upward when his erection grinds against my clit. "That feels way better than when I touch myself."

  "Jesus. Even when I'm about to fuck you senseless, you still make me laugh," he says, burying his face in my throat as his body shakes with laughter. "How many Christmas curses do you have in you?"

  "A lot." I run my hands up and down his back, touching him everywhere I can reach. I love the way his muscles feel beneath my palms. They bunch and ripple as if responding to the feel of my hands on his body. "I've been saving them up all year."

  He laughs again and then kisses my throat. "I fucking love them. You can use them anywhere you want, but when we're in this bed, the only name you say is mine, Lana."

  "Okay," I agree because he sounds all possessive and bossy. And also because I really love saying his name. "Sawyer? I really need you inside me now, please."

  "Yes, ma'am." He chuckles and then his grip tightens on my hands.

  He grinds himself against my clit, seeking out my mouth. The kiss starts off slow and soft, tinged with sweetness, but it quickly grows hotter, wilder. As easily as we laugh together, we burn together. He rocks his hips against me, running his erection over my clit again and again, making me crazy. I'm so wet I feel it on my thighs.

  My breath stalls in my lungs when he notches himself at my entrance.

  "I love you," he whispers, thrusting forward. My body stretches around him. It's an odd sensation but it doesn't hurt. Even when the head of his erection finally slips in, I don't feel pain.

  That changes when he grits his teeth and surges forward again. He tries to be gentle, but I still feel it when my hymen tears. The sting ripples through me, making me whimper and dig my nails into his upper arms.

  "Breathe, sweet Lana," he croons, kissing me between each word. "Keep breathing, little star." He holds himself still inside me, his muscles locked tight. His breath rasps out of his throat, strangled. "God, I can't believe you're real. You feel like heaven around me." His nose glides along the side of mine before he kisses away the tears pooling in my eyes. "You're my miracle, my bright little star. I'm never going to let you go now that I found you."

  "G-good," I whisper. Even though it shouldn't be possible, awe courses through me almost as strongly as the pain does. He loves me. He's inside me. Somehow, this is really my life. This beautiful man is mine and I don't ever have to give him back.

  His lips brush my forehead and linger. "Thank you for bringing her to me, God," he whispers so softly I'm not sure the words are meant for my ears.

  I hear them anyway.

  They make me cry anyway.

  "I love you."

  "I love you, sweet Lana." His lips chase mine again, our kiss steeped in emotion and tinged with the taste of my tears. For long moments, all we do is kiss and cling to one another, both brought to our knees with gratitude and love. And then he shifts his hips.

  I gasp as pain gives way to pleasure.

  "Sorry, little star. Sorry," he apologizes, misunderstanding.

  "Sawyer," I breathe against his lips. "Do that again, please. Make love to me."

  "You're sure?"

  "Positive."

  He tilts his hips forward just a bit, testing. When I moan his name, he relaxes and surges forward, filling me completely. His head tips back, a decadent groan rippling in the air around us, though I'm not sure if it came from him or from me.

  He lets go of my hands to plant his on the bed beside my head.

  "There's no way I'm ever going to get enough of you," he says, gliding in and out of me in slow strokes before he picks up speed. His body rocks above mine, his chest brushing across my breasts with every move. "You're so damn perfect, Lana. Jesus."

  "So are you." I run my hands down his back, throwing my head back and moaning. God, having him inside me feels so damn good. Like I've found exactly where I belong.

  He dips his head, pulling my nipple into his mouth…and it gets even better.

  I cry out his name, using my hands on his ass to pull him closer. He takes the hint and thrusts harder, impaling me on him over and over again. Each time our bodies come together, his balls smack against my bottom, leaving a little sting. Even that feels good.

  He moves from breast to breast, licking and sucking, leaving little love bites in his wake. A steady stream of curses and praise fall from his lips, some so dirty they make me blush, others so sweet they make me want to cry.

  The bed squeaks beneath me as he makes love to me, moving from place to place on my body as if he knows every sensitive area that I have. I leave claw marks in his firm ass and back, sob his name into the room.

  Pleasure is an endless well rising up to consume me again and then again. Sweat glides down my skin and makes a sheen on his. He's a warrior above me, pounding into me and groaning my name as if he can't help but say it when we're like this. He gives it to me over and over again.

  "Lana. Lana. God, little star," he groans, tilting my hips and striking a spot inside me that makes me see stars. "What are you doing to me?"

  "L-loving you," I gasp, arching beneath him, writhing, twisting to get closer and to make him go even deeper. I touch him like he did me, seeking out every spot on his body that makes him tremble and gasp my name.

  He growls when I reach between us, wanting to feel where we're connected. I'm so wet and he's so hard. We fit together like we were made to be like this, to love like this. My fingertips trail down the root of him and then whisper across his balls.

  "Fuck," he curses, grabbing for my hand.

  Before I can even complain or say anything, he has both of my arms over my head, holding me down again. His eyes blaze with heat and wicked intention. He takes me hard then, pounding into me in relentless strikes that have me sobbing his name and babbling to the heavens.

  My belly quickens and blooms for him.

  "That's it," he growls, nipping at my throat. "Give me what belongs to me. I want it." He thrusts deep and circles his hips so the root of him grinds against my clit. Again and then again.

  "Sawyer," I sob, writhing as the orgasm takes me. It's frightfully powerful, as fierce as the storm still raging outside. It crashes over me like a tidal wave, drowning me in pleasure. I shout his name, crying it into the room until it echoes around us.

  He impales me on him, his drives ruthless as he fucks me right out of this world and leaves me suspended in some peaceful, perfect place where the only thing that exists is pleasure…and him.

  "Lana!" he roars as he loses his rhythm and begins to spill inside me. His groan rolls over me like a second orgasm, sending aftershocks through me. I feel warmth as he finds release, filling me full of him. It's warm and sticky, messy and perfect.

  I love it. I love him.

  "Lana," he breathes, collapsing partially on top of me when it's finally over. He holds his weight off me, careful not to crush me as we both pant for breath and tremble in the aftermath. His body shelters mine, all that fierce strength and gentle devotion wrapped tightly around me. "I love you."

  I don't know if miracles exist…but I think he might be mine.

>   "I love you," he whispers again, seeking out my lips.

  I offer them up to him willingly, without reservation. The same way I gave him my heart.

  Chapter Seven

  Sawyer

  "With a corn cob pipe and a butt and nose," I sing along to the radio with Lana.

  "And two ey–Sawyer!" she cries mid-word, her body shaking with laughter. "It's button nose, not butt and nose!"

  "Close enough," I mutter, grinning at her. She's so damn beautiful when she's happy. The storm ended a few hours ago, and she dragged me out of bed to finish her cookies. We spent the afternoon cuddling in the kitchen while she baked, and our clothes dried.

  Now the cookies are all delivered, and her overnight bag is in the back seat of my truck. I'm dying to get her home and back in bed. My little elf is spending the night with me before we go to her mom's for Christmas tomorrow. She wanted to introduce us at the hospital, but her mom was in the operating room.

  I'm looking forward to meeting her. I hope like hell she thinks I'm worthy of her little girl because I'm not giving Lana back. I want my ring on her finger and her name tied to mine as quickly as humanly possible.

  "You're terrible at Christmas music," Lana says, still laughing as we coast to a stop at the sign a block from the house.

  "You'll just have to teach me to do better then, little star."

  She beams at me before throwing her head back and belting out the next verse in that angelic voice of hers. She really is my little star, lighting up my world with a simple smile. I never knew dimples could be so irresistible. I can't remember the last time I felt this, this…free.

  I turn onto our street, chuckling as she sings my lyrics this time with a mischievous grin and a soft laugh that rings like music throughout the truck.

  My laughter dies as soon as the house comes into view.

  "What the fuck?" I frown at the SUV parked in the driveway beside Lana's Malibu, my heart pounding. Anxiety claws inside my stomach, twisting like a knife.

  "What's wrong?" Lana follows my gaze and then her brows furrow when she spots the Acadia parked in the driveway. "Who is it, Sawyer?"