Two Purple Gloves (A Pear Street Christmas #2)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“I love it when you beg me. Ask again.”

LISA

“I can’t believe you just brought down a photo of me completely naked for me to hand out to my parents!”

Rhiannon rolls her lips inward. “I’m sorry! I didn’t do it on purpose!”

“Do you know how embarrassing that could have been?” My heart is still hammering in my chest from the adrenaline.

“I’m sorry, Lis,” she implores. But she’s not. She’s laughing.

“Why would you think to bring a present down from my bedroom without checking with me first?” I’m not even that mad at Rhiannon, but the residual fear in my body is keeping the snippy attitude.

“Pregnancy brain?” she says with a wince.

We continue prying tape from our respective presents, trying not to ruin the paper. “This is no good,” Nel says. “You can’t tell what’s underneath the tissue paper.”

“We’re going to have to open them all up,” I say, hands on hips.

Nel pouts. “But I wrapped them all so beautifully.”

Yeah, but didn’t bother labelling them! I think it, but I don’t say it.

“You really did,” Rhiannon says sympathetically, rubbing Nel’s arm .

“Seriously?” I stare at them both, incredulous. “What do you suggest? I just hand them out like this and hope for the best?”

“We could make it a Christmas game,” Nel suggests with a serious face. So serious I’m unsure if she’s joking. Please let her be joking.

“Yeah.” Rhiannon nods, thoughtfully. “But is whoever gets the nip pic the winner or the loser?”

“The winner, obviously,” Nel says. “They’re incredible pictures. And very nice nipples.”

I snap my fingers between them, frustration reaching boiling point. “Will you two actually help me here?”

“Love to, but winding you up is a lot more fun,” Rhiannon says.

I let my head drop to my hands and resist the urge to scream.

“Would you relax?” Nel chuckles. “Let’s just get these opened up and we’ll re-wrap them.”

We each slide a tissue wrapped frame from the wrapping paper and pull the tissue paper away. As it turns out, we have to open all but one of the presents until we find the one not suitable for public opening.

“Holy shit, Lis,” Rhiannon says, holding up the frame.

I come to stand behind her and look over her shoulder to see the collage of pictures. They’re all of me, obviously, and they’re all…beautiful. A mixture of black and white and coloured photographs, about ten of them, perfectly slotted together. I’d been worried going to Nel’s studio in the city, thinking she’d ask me something mortifying like to seduce the camera, but she didn’t. She just chatted to me as she clicked away, occasionally manoeuvring me into a pose. She asked questions about me, about what I liked about my body, when I felt the most beautiful. She asked me about Harry and our favourite memories. And I can see the answers in the frame ahead of me.

“Ooooh! You’re wearing purple gloves!” Rhiannon points to the centre photo, which is me dressed as an angel, very similar to how Harry had first laid eyes on me, sat on a chair but leant forward. My elbows rest on my bare knees, my gloved hands holding my chin as I look up and to the side, a laugh on my mouth. It’s the tamest of all the photos. There’s one that’s close up, just my face and upper chest in shot, Nel’s chosen to display it in black and white.

She’d done my makeup and the dark smokiness of my eyes is shown in the grey shadows. Even without colour you can see the darker colour of my nipple poking between my fingers where I grip my breast for modesty, my lips are slightly parted and my eyes literally sparkling. I remember taking this one, laid out on the bed in Nel’s studio, her on a step ladder above me with the camera. She asked me if I remember the first time Harry and I were together. I didn’t answer with words, but I didn’t need to, the answer is there all over the photograph. It’s in the hood of my eyes, the way my teeth are just visible between my lips, as though they’re about to bite down on the bottom one.

“Oh, Nel,” I breathe, something burning at the back of my eyes like I might cry.

“It’s all you Lis,” she says gently.

All three of us are just staring as the photos, each one as beautiful as the next and the first tear falls when I realise that this is how Harry sees me. But Nel was right, this isn’t just for him, it’s for me too. I’m seeing what I thought I’d been losing. I don’t see the fine wrinkles fanning from the corners of my eyes that seem to haunt me from the mirror. The genuine smile on my lips and the light in my eyes for every question Nel asked me about things I love are the only things shining in the pictures.

In the full-length picture of me draped lazily against the exposed brick wall in nothing but a black lingerie set that Harry happens to love on me, I’m not staring at my slightly softer than before stomach. I’m seeing the bigger picture, the curves of my waist, the mole next to my belly-button Harry likes to kiss. My hair is curled and falls partially over my shoulder to my waist. My legs are long and shapely, accentuated by the highest heels I had in my closet. If I wanted to, I could zone in on the imperfections and signs of aging, but it’s hard to do when all the photos are so lovely.

“Fuck, you’re hot,” Rhi breathes, making Nel and I chuckle.

“Thanks.” I put my arm around her shoulders and sniff back tears feeling like a weight has been removed from my chest.

“Oh, shit.” We all turn round at the sound of the distinctly male voice. Jake stands with his back to us, looking up at the ceiling and his hands on his hips.

“Alright there, Santa?” Nel asks with amusement.

“Yeah, I didn’t see anything,” he answers, pained.

“Then why are you looking away like that?” I prod, enjoying his discomfort.

“Because if I didn’t see what I think I didn’t see, then Harry would definitely punch me if he knew I didn’t see it.”

“Okay, I’m lost,” this from Rhiannon, making Nel and I titter.

Nel takes the frame and places it face-down on the table. “It’s okay, babe, you can turn around now.”

Jake turns but still looks around the room, avoiding the three of us and the potential of catching another glimpse of things he shouldn’t. “Uh, yeah, just uh…just checking everything was okay in here. But obviously everything is okay and I’m uh, I’m gonna go.” He throws his thumb over his shoulder.

I snort. “Jake Partridge! Are you flustered?”

“No,” he scoffs.

“I never thought I’d see the day,” I say, shaking my head.

“You should have seen him when I first put on that damn elf costume last year,” Nel laughs.

Jake points to her with a warning look. “That falls under couple’s confidentiality.”

“Oh, we’ve heard all about your festive sexcapades, Jakey,” Rhiannon mocks with a teasing smile. “Nel gets very chatty after a few cocktails and at Lis and Harry’s summer BBQ, she may or may not have given us a play by play of your coming together last year.”

Jake looks accusingly at his fiancé who blushes profusely, refusing to meet his eye. “Is that so?”

“Oh, yeah,” Rhiannon coos, giving Jake a slow perusal. “You came off very well. Fun fact; this little one—” She points at her belly with both hands. “—was conceived that night.”

Nel throws her head back and laughs. “So, you’re saying Jake got you pregnant?”

“Would you shhh?” Jake hisses. “I’m already at risk of being in trouble with Harry for the second year in a row, I don’t want to add Luke to that list.”

I can’t help but laugh and once I start, I can’t stop. Nel and Rhiannon are giggling too, Nel bent over with her hands on her knees while Rhiannon stands upright holding her belly. Jake watches us all without humour, shaking his head at our delirium. I feel so good. Between talking to Harry last night and seeing with my own eyes that my photoshoot with Nel has been a success, everything seems so much better today. Now, I just need to get my husband alone.

“God, you’re sexy,” Harry says against the wet skin of my neck. “So fucking sexy.”

His naked body covers mine, chest to back, his solid cock pushed firmly against my arse, arms wrapped around my torso, and hands stroking everywhere. I stand under the warm spray of the shower, washing away the chill and the chlorine as the steam lifts and swirls around us, bringing with it the smell of his spicy body wash.

“Not too bad yourself,” I breathe, pushing my butt out and stroking his length between my cheeks.

Teeth scrape at the juncture between my neck and shoulder, his hand stroking lower over my belly and down until strong, slightly calloused fingers dip between my legs. Avoiding the sensitive nub, he strokes over my lower lips and around my entrance without giving me contact where I most want it. My head falls back against his shoulder, and he nibbles along the shell of my ear.

“Remind me,” he rumbles. “How many times did I make you come last time?”

My lips tip up at the edges, cheeks straining with the warming smile he incites. “Three.”

“Hmm,” he hums, the sound thoughtful. His other hand squeezes at my breast, my nipple caught between the knuckles of his pointer and middle finger, a pinch just painful enough to be pleasurable. “I’ll accept the challenge,” he mumbles before biting my neck and plunging two fingers into me with enough force to bring me up onto my toes.

“I didn’t issue you a challenge,” I whimper.

“You come four times tonight,” he tells me.

“I’m not sure I can do that,” I say over a groan as he starts pumping his hand between my legs, his palm rubbing on my clit.

“You should know not to doubt me by now, Angel.”

My hips move of their own volition, fucking myself on his hand as his lips skim my skin everywhere they can reach, his fingers denting the soft flesh of my breast with a punishing grip. He’s literally surrounding me, holding me close to his body, his spicy scent filling my nose, the taste of his kisses still fresh on my tongue as the sting of his teeth against my neck still lingers.

I feel safe in these arms, loved, wanted, adored. The crook of his fingers has him hitting a spot within me that even I’ve never found before, making my legs shake and quiver beneath my weight, but it’s okay because he holds me steady. Rubbing his erection against my buttocks, he breathes heavily in my ear, muttered curses and whispered praise adding to the physical pleasure he’s gifting me until I’m wound tighter than a rubber band. It snaps in a cacophony of pleasured moans and whimpers, my orgasm hitting every extremity until my whole body tingles with it .

“That’s it,” Harry rasps in my ear. “Such a pretty little thing when you come, give me more.”

I pant and sob as the aftershocks rack through my limbs and he draws every last ounce of pleasure from me.

“Good girl, Angel. Such a good fucking girl, coming for me.”

I’m done. I’m jelly. My brain has turned to tomato soup and my heartrate is off the chart. Harry shuts the water off and spins us so my back is to the tile, pressing into the cool ceramic and pushing his whole body against me. His lips crash down onto mine, tongue invading my mouth with raw hunger, and I can only open to let him in. My arms wrap around his neck, keeping him close as his cock nudges toward my entrance. When I reach down to guide him home, he grips my wrist, stopping me and smiling when I grumble my protest.

“I’m not fucking you against the wall. Not the first time, anyway.”

“I need you,” I whine, feeling so painfully empty without him filling me.

“Let me take you to bed, baby.”

I’m worried about walking with the way my legs tremble but, as though reading my mind, he grabs me at the back of my thighs and lifts, carrying me, sopping wet, to his bedroom.

The house is cold in the December frost and my skin pebbles at the sudden change in temperature. Once we’re in his room, Harry places me gently on my feet and unhooks a large fluffy towel from the back of the door, wrapping it around me and rubbing up and down my arms with vigour, bringing me warmth.

“What about you?” I ask as he stands, still stark naked.

“You’re keeping me warm just by being here,” he murmurs. When I raise a brow at him, I expect to see his cocky smile, proud of that line. But all I see is a sincerity that catches my breath in my throat. He blinks it away and flashes me his pearly whites. “But a little body heat wouldn’t be unappreciated. ”

I smirk and open my arms, taking the towel with them, wrapping him up with me and kissing him fiercely as he takes me into his arms and walks us backwards until we both crash down on the bed. Harry lands on top of me, our lips never parting, our hands growing frantic as we grip and paw at each other.

“Harry,” I moan. “Fuck me, please.”

“Mmmm,” he groans against my mouth. “I love it when you beg me. Ask again.”

“Please Harry, please fuck me. I’m desperate for you.” The breathiness in my voice is only slightly put on.

“Fuck,” he curses. “Baby, you’re gonna kill me.” With sucking kisses, he moves down my body. Teeth pinching at my skin, tongue soothing the burn. Drawing one nipple into his mouth, he tugs on the other with his fingers. When he comes away to switch to the other side, the cool air hits the wetness he leaves behind making the flesh pebble.

I’m writhing and shaking beneath him, desperate for his cock, and I almost cry when I realise his intent. “Harry, please.”

“I need you nice and wet for me, Angel.”

“I am,” I insist.

“Not enough. You’re going to come on my tongue and when I’m satisfied that you’re good and ready for me, I’ll give you what your needy little cunt is begging for.” He takes my hips in both of his hands as he settles between my legs, wedging his shoulders under my thighs and effectively spreading my legs.

“Harry, you don’t need—”

My words are stolen by a gasp when he buries his face at my centre. His tongue dips into my opening, swivelling and lapping at my wetness, his nose pressed against my clit. “So pretty, so sweet,” he mumbles mostly to himself.

“Oh, god.” My back arches off the bed as he sucks my clit between his lips and rolls his tongue over the sensitive bud. Unbelievably, he’s coaxing another orgasm out of me within just a minute. I tug at his hair whilst grinding myself against his face and come with a long sigh, melting into the mattress.

Harry kisses up my body, following the trail he left on the way down, giving each of my nipples a cursory suck and kiss. When he captures my lips, I taste myself on his tongue, his sweet kisses tangy with the flavour of my arousal. Our bodies are flush together, his solid length sliding between my legs with ease thanks to the lubrication my orgasm provided. My legs fall open further so his hips can press more firmly to me and with a small punch of his pelvis, his tip nudges past my entrance.

I gasp and Harry moans, his head falling to my neck. He moves again like it’s an instinct he can’t switch off and pushes further into me, the stretch is almost too much but still not enough. I need him all the way in, I need to feel him move inside me, I need it all. I wrap my legs around him, urging him to bottom out but he stays halfway in.

“Fuck, Angel,” he grits out, pained. “I need to get a condom.”

“No!” I plead. “Don’t stop, please.” If he leaves me now, I may never recover.

“I—”

“ Please , Harry.”

“I’ve been tested,” he pants, looking down at me with searching eyes, looking for the doubt he’s expecting, but there is nothing but desperate need to be found.

I nod. “I’m on the pill.”

They were apparently the magic words because with the end of that statement, he surges his hips forward until he’s filling me completely. So full in fact that my breath no longer has space in my body and leaves me in a long, almost pained moan. His body weight blankets me, his thick cock fills me, his breath comes out ragged in my ear, and the warm moisture from our shower mixed with our sweat plasters us together. It’s overwhelming, it’s beautiful.

“You okay?” he whispers and I nod. “I’m going to move now. ”

I nod again and feel my eyes rolling back when he slowly and carefully pulls nearly all the way out before sliding oh so gently back to me.

I’ve never had sex without a condom before, I always thought it wouldn’t make that much difference. I was wrong. I feel everything . Harry and I are one as he starts picking up a steady rhythm, it’s not fast but he hits hard with each forward thrust, reaching a part of me no one has before. My hips roll, lifting to meet his and pulling back when he does.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs in my ear. “So fucking perfect.” He lifts up slightly and looks down our bodies to see where we’re connected, watching his length disappear into me. “Look how well you take me, Lisa. Look how fucking perfectly you fit me.”

“Oh, god.”

“You take me to heaven,” he rasps. “My perfect angel.”

My heart thrums, my body vibrating with the force of it, the force of his words. I feel it building in my core like thunder rumbling in the background. When he sinks all the way in and pauses, kissing me deep and moving up my body so his head is much higher than mine, his cock stays inside me but only halfway and his exposed shaft pushes against my clit. When he starts rocking again, I’m being rubbed in all the right places.

“You feel that?”

“Oh my god,” I breathe. “Harry!”

“Hmmm,” he rumbles in my ear. “You gonna come for me again?”

“Yes!”

Lightning strikes. I combust, everything coming undone like a string being pulled tight, snapping to fall away, left to be taken by the wind. My orgasm leaves me boneless, unable to move when Harry adjusts his position again, pushing himself up so he can pump into me, bottoming out each time.

“I’m gonna come in you,” he grunts. “I’m gonna fill you up. Fuck, baby, I’m gonna make such a fucking mess of you. And you’re just gonna take it, aren’t you? ”

How many orgasms can the body take before it just goes into a vegetive state? Because I’m not sure I’m going to survive the one that’s threatening at my womb right now. I can only nod my head, my nails digging into the skin at his biceps.

“Good girl, such a good fucking girl.”

I’m done. I come again with a shuddering cry with his words ringing in my ears and the sight of him above me, a single bead of sweat on his temple as he fucks into me with abandon. He throws his head back and cries up to the ceiling, holding steady inside of me as he spills his hot load. Falling forward, he covers me, hands digging into my hair and lips moving over mine.

Through the walls we hear Harry’s neighbours loudly celebrating. “Ten, nine, eight…”

“I’m bringing in the new year how I plan on spending the majority of it,” Harry says against me. “Buried deep inside you.”

“That’s presumptuous,” I say but there’s no conviction behind it, only a yawn.

“Four, three, two, one!”

“Happy new year, Angel.”

“Happy new year, Frosty.”