A Very Grumpy Lumberjack Christmas

19. Noel

19

NOEL

L uke issues a low, rumbling growl of warning, his hands tightening on my hips where they’re spread across his.

I see the hesitation.

The concern.

The conflict raging inside him that also lives and breathes inside me.

I press my fingers across his lips, silencing him so I can get out what I need to so he can understand. “I know we keep doing this as soon as we get cleaned up.” A little laugh slips out at the absurdity of how many times we have ended up having sex in less than twenty-four hours, and he grins against my fingertip. “But Christ, Luke”—I lean forward and press my forehead to his, pulling my hand away from his mouth—“I just need it. I need you. Again. I don’t care if it makes me look like some wanton slut—”

“Whoa!” He threads his fingers through my hair and tugs my head back, forcing me to meet his gaze. His brows draw low over his darkening eyes. “Don’t ever think or say anything like that again, Noel. You want what you want, as much or as little as you want it. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that, or you, or us, or this .”

He rolls his hips up, which pushes his hard cock even more intensely against my pussy.

I bite back a moan, sagging onto him slightly. “I’ve just never…”

“You’ve never what, Snowflake?”

Squeezing my eyes closed, I rally myself to make the admission I never thought I would to this man. To tell him how truly and completely he affected my life and ruled my heart even after I left Mistletoe and him behind.

When I reopen them, now fighting tears, I know I can’t get away with not finishing the thought now that I’ve opened the door.

“I have never wanted anyone the way I do you. Not then. Not over the last eight years…”

And I probably won’t in the future, either.

I can’t imagine how I ever could.

My lips trembling, I hold his heated gaze, watching his eyes warm at my admission. “Are we crazy?”

He nods slowly, never looking away from me, still gripping my hair and holding me in place so I can’t try to hide. “Yes.”

“Stupid?”

His head bobs again. “Yes.”

“Shit.”

I squeeze my eyes closed, unable to accept what we both know.

That we shouldn’t keep doing this to ourselves.

That it will only make it hurt more when it ends.

But his lips feather over mine gently, like he’s seeking permission to take something that’s always been his.

I gasp at the zing of electricity that flows through that simple act, the way it ignites that fire that was merely smoldering before. My nails curl into his chest, and he groans, taking my mouth with his brutally.

Seeking and exploring like he doesn’t already know everything.

Claiming me in a way that screams forever when we both know it’s really only for now.

Until this storm blows over.

Once it’s gone, so will be my reason to stay in this cabin.

I’ll go home to Mom for the next few days until New Year’s rolls around and I have to return to work and my life in Toronto.

And the message he conveys with the way he holds me, the intensity of his kiss, comes through loud and clear—I am not the only one struggling with all these feelings being here has dredged up.

He’s in exactly the same boat.

With no engine.

No sail.

No paddle.

Surrounded by a dark, stormy sea, or in this case, a white-out blizzard.

There’s no hope of rescue unless we do it ourselves, but we’re both drowning in this lust, these memories, this place, and I don’t know how either of us will come up for air when it’s over.

Maybe we won’t.

And I can’t seem to care.

I roll my hips, grinding myself down against his length, and he groans into my mouth, his bare chest rumbling under my palm. He releases my hair, and his hands slide down to unbutton the flannel shirt, freeing my breasts and belly. Exposing them to the warm yet somehow chilly air.

Goosebumps pebble across my skin, and Luke cups me almost reverently, brushing his thumbs across the taut peaks, sending a jolt straight to my clit and making me clench.

Moisture floods my core, and I gasp against his lips, shuddering as that tight, coiling spiral already starts to build low in my belly.

He alternates his caresses, soft, gentle, sweet, then suddenly pinching and twisting my nipples in a way that almost makes me come on the spot.

“Fuck…”

The word tumbles from my lips and into his mouth, and he catches it with an appreciative groan. Kissing me everywhere. Touching anywhere he can.

But I need more.

I fumble between us for the waistband of his sweatpants and shift back as he lifts his hips to allow me to slide them down and off, freeing him. His scalding gaze rakes over me so hot my skin ignites.

A fire surges across every inch of it—outside, inside, all the way down to my soul.

“Take what you need, Snowflake.” Low and gravelly, his voice holds the evidence of his own barely restrained desire, but he’s pushing it aside, putting me first. “Whatever you need, however you need it, Noel, I’m yours, and I always will be.”

Oh, God.

His words make a sob climb up my throat, and I straddle him again, grasp his hard cock, and drag it through my arousal, then sink down on it slowly so I can pretend the sound is merely a response to feeling so full rather than to what he said.

“Always yours.”

It’s what we used to say to each other .

For so many years, even before we were boyfriend and girlfriend.

We swore we were best friends for life, and it all fell away so easily, the same way I’m falling away now—from all my worries, from all my fears—just by giving in to what I want from this man.

I finally sink down to the hilt and catch his groan with a kiss. Luke drops his head back, his hands tighten on my hips, and I roll them and grind down, pushing my clit against his pelvis. Seeking that delicious friction.

His body jerks under mine, and I rest my hands on his shoulders to use them for leverage to push myself up, then ever so slowly sink back down on him again.

Allowing myself to feel every solid inch.

Achy and clenching for it.

Luke’s jaw tightens.

A muscle in his neck strains like it might snap.

He shifts his grip on my waist to help lift and guide me, allowing me to set the pace we both want.

Rising and falling together, a dizzying maelstrom more disorienting than getting lost in those woods outside.

The cracking and popping of the wood on the fire, the random gusts of wind battering the small cabin outside, and the two of us coming together, our gasps and moans of pleasure, of contentment, of desire create an intimate soundtrack.

I ride him desperately, in frantic movements that keep his cock inside me as much as possible, the head dragging against that deep spot. His hands dig into my hips almost painfully, and each time I drive down, he grits his teeth harder.

He finally lifts his head and meets my gaze, then pushes himself up from the headboard, slides one hand to my nape, and plunges his mouth into mine again.

A brutal, soul-searing kind of kiss.

One that tells me how fucking starved he is, despite how many times we’ve already had each other.

It’s almost animalistic, feral, the way he takes it as I take him.

The slap of my pelvis against his.

That slow, beautiful grind of my clit to his flesh.

The flashes of light and sensation that ripple and course through me as he drives his tongue along mine, as he devours me more intensely than he ever has with his face between my legs.

Christ…

He was right, and so was I.

This is so crazy and stupid.

It will hurt later.

The kind of agony that lingers for years.

The kind we’re both so familiar with.

I can’t put on the brakes now, though. Not when my body is barely my own, when it belongs to him. Even though he turned over control to me—something he never does, especially where sex is concerned—he still owns me, owns this.

It’s an illusion of control when he holds my heart in his calloused hand.

All it would take is one sharp twist to wrench it from my chest.

He plants his feet and drives up into me, pushing himself that little bit deeper and making me gasp against his lips.

“Christ, Noel. I thought watching my dick disappear in your cunt was beautiful.” He leans back and feathers his fingers across my lips. “I thought watching you take it down your throat was, but nothing compares to watching you ride me. To the look on your face every time my cock goes deep like this. ”

He thrusts up again, and the groan I release sounds as inhuman as some of his have.

I don’t even know how to respond to that or that I could, even if I tried.

My head spins, and my body buzzes.

Only his cock embedded deep inside me, the constant roll of our entwined bodies, and his hand at my hip keep me grounded.

He twists my hair around his wrist and tugs, angling my neck back as he dips his head to kiss his way up the column, then slowly grazes his teeth over my pulse point.

The move makes my clit throb and my hips twitch, and I lose the rhythm, groaning in frustration.

My legs start to ache from the position and all the work it entails. But he gave this gift to me, told me to take him.

I don’t ever get the upper hand with Luke Crisp, and I don’t want to lose it.

He licks over that spot where my pulse thrums wildly, then down lower, bending me backward with his tug on my hair until I’m arched toward him, my breasts an offering in front of his hot lips.

Luke takes one peak into his mouth and sucks, and I arch even more, like a bowstring strung so tight that it’s ready to snap.

My hips falter yet again, but the buzz of pleasure his mouth on my nipple creates almost makes me forgo caring. He keeps moving inside me, and I try to find control, regain it, but he grazes his teeth across that sensitive peak, and I lose all ability to think or speak.

He kisses his way across my chest to the other breast, flicking his tongue across it, then blowing cool air, twisting it between his fingers before he scrapes his teeth along it and sucks away the pain.

Sweet.

Hot.

Harsh.

Agonizing.

Luke continues to move, pushing his cock up into me, even though I can barely do anything on top anymore, then pulls his head away from my breast. “How do you want to come, Snowflake? On my cock or in my mouth?”

My eyes fly open to meet his, and I can see the plea there.

I can see what he wants.

Or maybe I just know the man well enough to understand it.

Swallowing through my dry throat, I struggle to suck in enough air to speak. “Both.”

A grin spreads across his lips. “Greedy and fucking beautiful.”

He lies back so he can get a better position, and I can angle forward and find the friction I need. We return to the driving rhythm. Luke pumping up and me grinding down until the world finally— fucking finally —shatters the same way the ornament he gave me did.

I gasp, losing my breath and control over my limbs, and he wraps his arm around my back, pulling me to him as he continues to thrust up wildly. His hips buck and drive into mine. Plunging deeper and harder with each movement until he groans low against my ear, his body twitching under me as he comes deep inside.

My strangled moan falls from my lips as my orgasm finally abates and I collapse against him fully.

He wraps his arms around me and holds me tightly, kissing my temple. “Don’t fall asleep, Snowflake.”

I lift my head to meet his hooded gaze, still hazy from his release as I am from mine.

“You promised me I was going to taste your cunt and make you come again. ”

“But—”

“Now.” He doesn’t leave any room to argue with him. “I’ll help you stay upright. Come sit on my face.”

Fuck.

I clench around his still-hard cock, my pussy rippling and clit aching at the promise.

Slowly, I shift, letting his cock slip out as I shift up his body until I’m kneeling directly over his face. My legs spread across his broad shoulders, knees on the bed above them.

I grip the headboard as his rough hands find my hips.

He stares up at my cunt as if he’s staring into the sun, like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, then lifts his head and licks through both our releases.

Good God, he was right about baby Jesus hating us today.