The Christmas Cookie Crush (Arcadian Falls Christmas #4)

Chapter 24

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Nora

Austin doesn’t need to be told twice. I bite down on my grin as he practically leaps off the bed and starts digging through his backpack. He comes up in record time, a strip of condoms in hand and climbs back onto the bed.

Tossing the strip on the bed next to me, he reaches for my underwear, finally— finally —pulling it down and off, throwing it aside with the same abandon as the rest of our clothes. His underwear comes off next, and I prop myself on my forearms so I can see the show. I’ve been dying to know what he looks like after grinding against his dick more than once now and teasing him over his clothes earlier. I wanted to grip him and rub, but he seems a little shy sometimes, so I didn’t want to scare him off by being too direct.

I didn’t expect him to take over like he did, but I like it. A lot.

My eyes wander over him, snagging on the length jutting out between his legs, the head prominent above a straight shaft, thick with veins.

He grunts, and I tear my eyes from his body to look at his face. He has that look on his face again, the one that makes me feel like he thinks I’m the most precious thing ever to exist. “I like when you look at me like that,” he says, his voice hoarse.

“I like looking at you.”

If anything, that makes his gaze soften even more, which I didn’t think was possible. He settles over me again, gathering me beneath him and kissing me deeply. I wrap my arms around him in response, bringing my legs up to cradle his hips.

He grinds into my belly, then moves his hips enough so the head of his dick bumps my clit, and ungghh , that feels good. God, I want him inside me.

As much as I’ve always liked kissing boys, and as much as I love kissing this boy, I want more than that. But he’s running this show now, and I’m just along for the ride, trying my best to be patient.

He runs a hand down my side to my thigh, bringing my leg up and smoothing it over his hip, opening me so he drags the underside of his dick over my clit. When I moan, he sucks my lip between his teeth and bites down again, and Jesus fucking Christ, that’s hot.

Releasing my lip, he nips at my earlobe again. “I want to make you feel good,” he whispers. “Tell me what you need.”

“You,” I gasp. “I just need you. Inside me.”

After one more stinging nip at my collarbone, he sits up enough to grab the condoms, tear one open, and roll it on. Then he’s nudging his way inside me, his eyes never leaving mine.

I let out a soft sound of satisfaction when he’s finally inside me, wrapping my legs around him and reaching for him at the same time, grateful that he comes to me immediately, not making me wait or keeping himself from me.

He once again wraps his arms beneath me, like he needs to gather me up and hold me close, burying his face in my neck as he rocks slowly into me. It’s the same move he pulled earlier, but now it’s a thousand times better.

I tilt my hips up, using my hold on him to put myself in the best position, and hum with pleasure when he hits me just right on the next thrust.

He takes that as the encouragement it is, moving faster, driving harder, and I tighten around him, squeezing him with my internal muscles to increase my pleasure and hopefully his too. “God, you feel so good,” I tell him.

“You do too,” he moans in my ear, and how is it that this man is the sexiest person I’ve ever been with? Everything about this encounter is exquisitely sensual—his hands running over my skin, the nips and bites soothed by his tongue, the way he feels under my hands, between my thighs—everything. I’ve never felt so cherished, so relished, so desired in my life.

And I never want to feel any other way ever again.

Austin moves faster, and all I can do at this point is hang on. I want to reach between us, to give myself the little extra I need to tip over the edge, but with the way he’s holding me, I can’t. So instead, I give myself over to the moment, enjoying the way he feels, the way he holds me, the drag and press of his flesh on mine. I don’t think it’ll be enough to tip me over the edge, but it won’t take much afterward.

His hips lose their rhythm, and he comes with a groan, grinding up into me, and I feel him pulsing inside me. I wait just a beat, giving him a second to recover, but I’m so close, my own orgasm so tantalizingly just out of reach, that I need to finish.

When my hand wriggles down between us, he sucks his belly in, giving me space to move. “Jesus. Sorry. What can I?—?”

“Just stay right there. Like that. Don’t move.” My fingers rub frantic circles on my clit, and Austin mostly does as he’s told, holding himself over me, one arm still wrapped beneath me, but his other hand falls to my breast, and he begins fondling my nipple. I moan because it’s exactly what I didn’t know I needed.

When his lips close on my nipple again, giving me just the hint of his teeth, my fingers on my clit become more frantic, my breath coming in pants, and then he bites a little harder and I’m there . My orgasm washes over me in waves of bliss, my fingers slowing as my pussy pulses with pleasure.

With a satisfied exhale, I relax, withdrawing my fingers, feeling pleasantly heavy, like my limbs won’t want to move for quite a while. My eyelids lift lazily, and I meet Austin’s gaze.

He gives me a half smile, that same softness from earlier in his eyes as he brushes my hair out of my face. Then he kisses me, sweet and gentle, just like the one before we left ChristmasFest, the perfect bookend for the evening.

He nuzzles my nose, then kisses my forehead before withdrawing and dealing with the condom. When he comes back to bed, he climbs in with me, pulling me close, my head pillowed on his shoulder, our legs tangled together.

Bliss.

Our perfect night together is over far too soon. We had another round that was somehow even better than the first, with Austin taking his time to stroke and finger me to orgasm before rolling on the condom and entering me. But the morning comes long before I’m ready—though I’m not sure I’d ever be ready—meaning we both have to go to work. The reality that I don’t know when we’ll be able to repeat this makes me sad as we leave the hotel hand in hand, Austin dropping me off at home before heading to the bakery to pick up what he needs for today.

Fortunately, none of my siblings give me any shit when I get home. Not even Dylan. Which I’m extra thankful for because I absolutely do not need to deal with him and his nonsense today. As perfect as last night was, I’m left feeling raw and vulnerable today, and I don’t think I could handle him acting like a jealous ex over my new boyfriend.

Spending the night in bed, talking, laughing, sharing stories of our teenage years and college experiences made me feel even closer to Austin. But coming back to real life just drives home how different our lives are and how much of a challenge it’ll be for whatever this is to become anything lasting.

And last night made it clear to me that I definitely want it to turn into something lasting.

How, though?

He mentioned that his grandparents had asked him to stay permanently to help run the bakery and eventually take over.

Which is awesome. And I’m so happy for him, especially since he seems genuinely thrilled about it.

But it just makes my lack of direction even more stark by contrast.

What am I going to do once I graduate in May? I never wanted to come back to Arcadian Falls, not just being a lowly hourly worker at the Christmas Emporium and being an elf at Christmas forever. If I had a business to take over like Austin does, like Sarah did, then that’d be different. But Sarah’s the heir apparent in our family. The store doesn’t need me to survive.

But if Austin’s here, staying in Portland doesn’t sound appealing anymore, either.

I’m working with Madison again today, and when she sees me at the North Pole, she gives me a knowing smile. “So how was your date last night?”

“Amazing. Thanks for asking,” I tell her, returning her grin with a cheeky one of my own.

“You guys are so cute together,” she gushes. She holds up her hands like she’s framing a photo. “Christmas couple goals right there.”

Laughing off her comment, I get to work setting up the camera for the day while she gets the computer up and running. “Thanks.” It seems a bit premature to call us “couple goals” of any variety, but the sentiment is sweet. I don’t think she realizes that we’ve been dating for such a short time.

To be fair, it doesn’t feel like it’s only been five days. We’ve been talking for longer than that—though before the last week, it was fairly antagonistic, at least on my part—but even that seemed like it was all leading up to this. The development of our relationship has felt entirely natural and organic in a way that typically takes a lot longer to achieve. I don’t know if it’s the atmosphere of ChristmasFest that acts like a relationship pressure cooker or something specific to our chemistry, but it feels like we’ve compressed the normal progression of a relationship into a fraction of the time.

“What are you getting him for Christmas?” Madison asks, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I blink a few times, stalling by fussing with the camera, making sure it’s mounted properly. “Oh, uh …” I check the flashes, making sure they fire at the same time. They do, of course. “Well …”

Her gasp makes me turn and look at her, her eyes big and round, her hands clasped under her chin. “What? You haven’t gotten him a present yet?” Then her brows pull together, her expression going from shocked to puzzled in a nanosecond. “Wait. How long have you guys even been together?”

“Oh, uh, not that long.” For some reason, I feel embarrassed to admit it hasn’t even been a week.

She waves her hand. “Whatever. That doesn’t matter. You’re together . I mean, it’s obvious to anyone with working eyeballs that that boy is smitten with you.”

I have to fight back a laugh, rolling my lips between my teeth to hide my smile. Who is this chick? Who uses the word smitten?

Sighing, she tilts her head and clasps her hands next to her cheek. “It’s like a romance novel. Or one of those movies that are always playing this time of year—the girl working as an elf and the boy running the local bakery.” She squeals. “It’s the most adorable thing. So you have to get him a present. Good thing we work here, isn’t it? You can pick something up on your break!”

As entertaining as Madison’s enthusiastic narration of our relationship is, she has a point. Not so much about my life being a book or movie—it’s far too boring for that—but about getting Austin a present.

He’s already done so much for me, between the cookies and paying for the hotel last night. I offered to cover half, but he insisted on paying for it himself. The absolute least I could do is get him a present, right?