A Very Grumpy Lumberjack Christmas

15. Noel

15

NOEL

“ T here…” Luke secures the final side of the snowflake chain to the edge of the doorjamb so it hangs all the way across the entrance to the cabin. “All done.”

He steps back and examines his handiwork, scanning the entire cabin, which is now decked out in well over one hundred hand-cut snowflakes and a tree drenched in foil tinsel and popcorn and cranberry garland. Complete with an origami star on top that I learned to make a few years ago.

Though I never imagined it would come in handy for something like this.

I never thought I’d spend Christmas anywhere but at home with the people I love the most.

Now Dad is gone.

And Mom is there alone.

But I try not to dwell on it at this moment.

Not when everything is so damn beautiful.

Luke props his hands on his hips. “What do you think? How did we do?”

I lean back against the kitchen counter, allowing my eyes to linger over every single piece we’ve put together tonight. That damn tension that always comes before I cry returns to my chest, and I try to relieve it by drawing in a long, deep breath and releasing it slowly. “Everything looks perfect.”

He raises a brow as he approaches slowly, almost like he’s stalking me. “That’s pretty high praise coming from Miss Christmas herself.”

I scowl at him. “I am not Miss Christmas. But I am incredibly impressed with your ability to put aside that attitude you cling to so tightly, and touched that you’d actually do all this for me.”

His gaze softens as he approaches and cages me in with his hands on the counter at either side of my hips. Lowering his lips to mine, he presses a chaste kiss there. “I would do anything for you, Snowflake.”

Except move to Toronto.

The words sit on the tip of my tongue, so close to coming out that biting them back actually hurts and burns like acid in my mouth.

But I can’t say them.

Not after he just did all this for me.

“We finished.” His eyes drift over to the clock. “And barely in the nick of time, too.”

I follow his gaze…

11:59.

This time, it’s my turn to raise a brow. “We’ve really been at this for that long?

He nods slowly. “Two and a half hours.” His head dips until his warm breath flutters against my neck. “Though it has felt like so much longer.”

My spine stiffens. “Because of how much you’ve made yourself hate all this for so many years?”

Luke shifts even closer until his chest brushes mine and I can feel his hard cock pressing into me. “No.” His lips feather across my skin. “Because you’ve been prancing around this cabin, bending over, reaching up, doing everything you can to flash that sweet ass and glistening pussy of yours at me. And I’ve been walking around with a painfully hard cock the entire time.”

I suck in a sharp breath, and he draws his head back, grinning.

A few seconds tick by, then several more, but he doesn’t move.

Doesn’t say a word.

Just watches me like a predator, waiting for the perfect time to strike.

“What are you doing, Luke?”

The question comes out breathless, like I, too, can’t wait for whatever is about to happen. And given the heat flooding my body, the ache between my legs, I know if he doesn’t make a move soon, I might.

His grin deepens until that dimple pops again. “I’m waiting for that clock to tick over to midnight so we can start that Christmas Day stuff I mentioned earlier that baby Jesus would absolutely hate.”

Hell…

My pussy throbs at his words, at the promise in them and in his gaze.

He glances at the clock again, and when his eyes return to mine, he doesn’t have to tell me what it reads.

The absolutely feral glint in the green that stares back at me is all I need to know that it’s officially Christmas.

“Merry Christmas, Snowflake.” His hand captures my cheek. “Now…I would very much like to get my present.”

I raise a brow at him. “What present?”

He reaches to the right on the counter next to me for something just out of my line of vision, then pulls it out in front of me—the bottle of bourbon he left out from earlier. “I want to know what this tastes like…on you.”

My legs quiver under me at the low gravel in his voice, and I squeeze my eyes closed, gripping the counter behind me.

Luke pops the cork off the top of the bottle—the sound somehow loud even over the music still playing. He sets it back on the counter beside us with a soft clink of glass against the butcher block.

A calloused palm slips from my knee up along my thigh and between my legs to my already slick core.

His rumbled groan of approval vibrates through me. “So wet for me already, Snowflake?” He barely brushes my wet flesh with a fingertip. “Did you get hot? Walking around without your panties on, teasing me like that by flashing your ass and pussy at me…”

Luke barely grazes my clit with his thumb, making me twitch, and I bite my lip to keep from crying out.

“Did you?”

He presses his thumb there hard, not moving it, literally pinning me in place with one single digit and a question.

I allow my eyes to flutter open to meet his and find the determination there that I’ll never be able to break.

Luke won’t let me go until he knows.

Until I’ve come clean.

“Every time I caught you watching me, I felt like I was in a porn…about to be split wide by the smoking-hot lumberjack and his…weapon of choice.”

A grin spreads across his face. “Then we better get working on those things that’ll make baby Jesus cry.”

I bark out a laugh, and he captures my mouth, swallowing it down, along with my breath, his hand shifting again so he can slide two thick fingers up inside me.

“Fuck… ”

Clenching around them, I wrap my arms around his neck, trying to draw him even closer, but he pulls his hand free and backs away slightly.

“What?”

Luke slides his glistening fingers into his mouth to lick them clean before he grips my hips and lifts me up onto the counter. He pushes his flannel shirt up across my stomach to fully expose me and spreads my legs wide. “So beautiful.”

His compliment washes over me like a soothing balm.

Wiping away all those stupid little thoughts that have popped up during our night together.

Ones I do not want to think about or consider until faced with the harsh reality of the world outside this cabin again.

Luke dips his head and drags his tongue through me, making my entire body clench and arch as he grabs the bottle. “Two of my favorite things in the world.” He wiggles it in front of me, the amber liquid sloshing. “This one is sweet and fiery, and so are you.”

Angling the head of the bottle just above my clit, he pours, then dips his head, catching the liquid, not allowing a drop of it to spill as he laps at me and his favorite drink.

The bourbon stings against my pussy slightly, but Luke’s hot, wicked tongue tempers it immediately before he probes inside me, groaning his appreciation.

“Fucking hell, Noel, better than I ever imagined, better than I ever dreamed.”

I tighten my grip on the edge of the counter, trying to find my breath as he continues to pour and lick, to suck and drive into me with his mouth and fingers. “You-you…you dreamed about this?”

Somehow, I manage to get the words out, and his eyes immediately flick up to mine, dark, almost obsidian now, full of need and something else.

“Of course I did. I dreamed about you every night when you were gone.”

Shit .

Might as well drive an axe straight through my ribcage and into my heart.

The pain in his statement, coupled with the pleasure of his tongue and fingers on me, is enough to make me come in a hot rush so fast I don’t even see the orgasm until it’s hitting me full force.

“Fuck!” I gasp. “Luke!”

I clutch his hair, tugging on the long, thick strands as I buck against his face, grinding there as he continues to suck and nip at my clit in a way that just keeps dragging it on impossibly long.

The white spots behind my lids flash as my breath rushes from my lungs, and then he’s there, kissing me, devouring me, allowing me to savor what I taste like.

My release mixed with the bourbon.

And he’s right—it is incredible.

But it isn’t what I’m craving.

I nudge at his shoulders, urging him back, and gasp for air as he tears his mouth from mine.

His brows rise. “What?”

It takes a second to catch my breath as he watches me, searching to ensure that I’m okay and for any reason that I might have stopped him. “It isn’t fair.”

His brows draw low. “What isn’t?”

ANY of this.

I want to scream it at him, but there’s one thing in particular that’s been bothering me since the moment he got his mouth on me the first time earlier tonight.

“That you get to taste me, but I haven’t been able to kiss you properly yet. ”

A frown pulls at his lips, mixed with the confusion in his hooded gaze. “What are you talking about, Snowflake?”

I urge him back with a nudge to his shoulder, and he retreats a step, then two, and I release my death grip on the counter to slide off onto shaky bare feet.

The shirt slips down again to cover my throbbing pussy, and my eyes zero in on their target—with a piece of mistletoe still tied directly above it.

He glances down, following my gaze, then back up at me with wide eyes. “Snowflake…”

His voice cracks slightly as he says it, but I reach out and unbutton his fly, dragging the zipper down with a playful grin as I sink to my knees.

“Your mom has a real sense of humor.”

He chuckles, running his fingers through my hair. “I forgot that was even on there. She told me that I should tie it to the Santa hat when I was working the lot. But I told her that I’d rather get kissed elsewhere.” That dimple appears with his laughter. “Just to mess with her, I hung it here.”

I grin up at him as I tug his jeans down, allowing his cock to spring free directly in front of me.

God, he’s hard and thick everywhere.

He grips my hair and pulls back on it, urging me to look up at him. “You don’t have to do this, Snowflake. This isn’t a quid pro quo.”

The deep concern in his gaze and voice only makes me more intent.

“God, I know that, Luke. I want to. I-I’ve been dying to.”

A slow smirk curls his lips. “Well, when you put it like that…”

His cock twitches in anticipation, and I reach out and smack him on the outer thigh, urging him to turn around and lean against the counter so he doesn’t crumple in the middle of the goddamn kitchen once I start.

As soon as he’s leaning back, I angle forward and slowly glide my tongue along the underside of his cock. His fingers tangle in my long strands, tugging as his hips buck forward and a low grunt slips from him.

I blow air lightly along the same track, over the damp, warm skin, then do each side just as slowly, intentionally avoiding the tip.

Toying with him.

Building him up the same way he does me.

By the time I finally get to that most sensitive spot, his body is vibrating so violently that I know I made the right decision to make him move. The knuckles on his left hand gripping the counter have turned white, and the fingers in my hair sting my scalp as he struggles to hold on to control.

“I’m going to suck your cock now, Luke.” I glance up at him to find hooded, fiery eyes staring back at me. “And I want you to come down my throat.”

“ Fuuuuck .” The word comes out more growl than anything else, and he opens his mouth to say something else. “Noel, I—”

I lean forward and suck him down in one smooth motion, relaxing my gag reflex and taking him all the way to the back of my throat. He squeezes his eyes closed, his mouth falling open on a silent gasp, and he tugs on my hair violently, pushing himself slightly deeper.

“Sweet bloody fucking hell…”

He grits his teeth, and I moan around his hot, hard flesh.

“Fuck, Snowflake. You keep doing that and you’re going to get your wish pretty damn fucking fast.”

His words sound frantic, worried, as if he’s concerned coming fast is somehow an insult to me or something to be embarrassed about instead of proof of just what I want.

For him to give himself to me.

Fully .

I reach up and wrap my hand around the base of his cock as I slowly withdraw until only the head remains in my mouth. Gliding my tongue around it, paying special attention to flicking against the underside, in that sensitive spot that makes his hips thrust forward, I push him to the brink.

And he drives deeper.

Hips surging.

I moan my approval, not wanting him to stop because he fears he might gag me.

I want to see him come undone.

I want him to fall apart the way he makes me fall apart.

I want him to forget everything except this moment, the way I’ve been trying to, no matter how hard it might be.

My pussy still throbs, aches to have his cock there instead of in my mouth, but the familiar flavor of his hot skin dancing along my tongue and knowing he’s about to explode is enough to urge me forward, to make me suck and twist and glide until his hips are moving with me and he’s fucking my mouth.

He lifts his hand off the counter and buries it into my hair, angling my head so he can drive harder and down my throat even farther.

And I let him take over.

Encourage him to take the lead.

Beg him with my body and mouth to take what he wants.

Because tonight, he gave me what I needed, what I wanted.

He comes on a roar that rivals that of the wind outside.

Hot spurts of cum hit the back of my throat almost violently.

I swallow them down greedily, savoring his familiar flavor and relishing the knowledge that I can still make him like this.

A quivering mess.

His body relaxes slightly, and he sags back against the counter.

He releases my hair and drifts his palm down under my chin to tilt my head up as he watches his cock slip free from my mouth. His thumb brushes over my lips. “That might have been the single most fucking beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, Snowflake. Next to you.”