Dark Christmas: Chapter 27

“Fuck, Amelia.”

She’s on top of me, starting to ride, and all I can do is watch her.

The way she moves, the way she looks at me—God, it’s too much. I’ve never been the kind of man to let someone else take control, but with her, I want it. I need it.

My hands grip her hips as she starts to move. Her heat surrounds me, and every time she slides down, it’s like she’s pulling me deeper into something I can’t escape—something I don’t want to escape.

“You feel so fucking good,” I mutter, my voice rough, almost desperate. I’m not used to feeling this way, this vulnerable. I’m a man who dominates, who takes what he wants, but with Amelia, it’s different. She’s different.

She’s so wet, and every time she slides down onto me, I’m drowning in the heat of her. The sight of my cock disappearing into her perfectly tight pussy over and over is enough to drive me insane. Her hips roll, and her body arches. She’s in complete control, and I can’t take my eyes off her.

I run my hands over her thighs, her ass, pulling her tighter against me. I’m caught up in her. Trapped. Every movement she makes is like a drug, and I can’t get enough.

“God, you’re fucking beautiful,” I mutter. I mean it, too—not just how she looks but how she moves, the control she takes, the power she wields.

It turns me on even more watching her take what she wants, her confidence making me lose my own control. She’s got me right where she wants me, and I love every damn second of it.

Her body’s a masterpiece, and I’m losing myself in her.

I can feel myself getting closer, the tension coiling in my core, but I don’t want it to end yet.

Just then she leans forward, her hands on my chest, her pace relentless, and it hits me all at once. I’m not just fucking her—I’m falling for her. It’s overwhelming, the physical pleasure mixing with deep emotions. It scares the hell out of me.

“Melor…” she breathes, her voice soft and breathless, and it sends a shockwave through me. She arches her back, her body tightening around me, and I can feel her teetering on the edge. My hands cup her perfect breasts, fingers brushing her hardened nipples, and I can’t take it anymore.

Together, we crash over the edge. Her body clenches around me and I feel her shudder, her moans getting louder as she rides out her release. It’s enough to send me spiraling, my own orgasm hitting me like a freight train. The world fades, and it’s just the two of us, completely wrapped in each other, lost in the moment.

Her back arches further, pressing her chest into my hands, and I grip her tighter, holding her close as I fill her, my body shaking with the intensity of it.

As the waves of pleasure slowly begin to settle, my heart is pounding, not just from the high, but from the realization that I’m not just lost in the sex. I’m lost in her. I didn’t expect this—didn’t expect her to mean this much. But she does.

After we come down from the high, she stays on top of me, her body still pressed against mine, my cock still inside her. I hold her close, my arms wrapped around her like I never want to let go. And part of me doesn’t. The thought of holding her like this forever—it’s tempting in ways I never expected to feel.

I kiss her, deep and slow, tasting the satisfaction on her lips. Eventually, she pulls back, climbing off me, and the moment our bodies separate, I already miss the warmth of her. She moves around the room, closing her laptop, drawing the curtains halfway.

The fatigue of the day suddenly hits me like a heavy weight, and I lean back on the couch, letting my eyes close for just a second, listening to the soft sounds of her moving.

“We should probably get to bed,” she says softly, her voice tugging me from the edge of sleep.

I chuckle, eyes still closed. “I could easily fall asleep right here.” I gesture for her to join me, and she doesn’t hesitate.

She climbs onto the couch, the soft cushions big and cozy enough to hold us both. She rests her head on my chest, her body fitting against mine like she was made for me. I kiss her again, slower this time, letting myself savor every second.

As I lay there, her head rising and falling with each of my breaths, I’m overwhelmed with the feelings coursing through me. This is more than I thought I could ever have or deserved.

And it terrifies me.

I’m holding her close, her body nestled against mine, both of us teetering on the edge of sleep. The room is quiet, save for the soft rhythm of her breathing and the occasional sounds of the city outside.

Then, she mumbles something, barely audible.

I lean closer, brushing her hair aside. “What did you say?”

Her eyes are closed but she mumbles it again, a little clearer this time. My heart stops when I hear it—I love you. She’s half-asleep so she might not even be aware of what she said.

The weight of her words settles over me. I don’t deserve her love. She’s tangled up in my world now, a world I never wanted her to be a part of. Will she feel the same when she’s fully awake and not drifting off in my arms?

The truth is, I love her, too. More than I ever thought possible. But I won’t say it now. Not when she won’t remember it. When I tell her, she’s going to hear it, feel it. It will be real, not some whispered words in the dark.

I kiss her forehead, breathing her in, my hand resting against the curve of her back. Her body softens in my arms, completely relaxed, trusting.

I hold her tighter, letting my eyes close, and for the first time in a long time, I fall asleep without feeling like the weight of the world is on my shoulders.