“Sebastian, I’m slipping!”
I pick her up around her waist and carry her out into the bathroom, sitting her on the edge of the tub.
Yeah, kneeling—that’ll work!
I fall to the floor in front of her and spread her knees out wide. She gasps as I go down on her and that sound alone is enough to make me come. Hold it in, Hunter, you fucking lightweight.
I work her some with my tongue and some with my finger, but then she comes suddenly and unexpectedly. Jeez, that was quick.
“Fuck, Caro! You okay, baby?”
I look up at her and I love that hot, abandoned look. Her hair is hanging down her back, almost to her waist, and those beautiful breasts are rising and falling rapidly with her very fast breathing.
She nods but doesn’t seem capable of speaking, and that makes me smile. I pull her up and half-carry her to the bedroom.
She sprawls out on her back and then holds up her arms and wiggles her fingers at me. That means she wants me to lie down with her. I fucking love that we have this unspoken language between us. I’ve done a lot of shit with a lot of women, but I’ve never had this level of intimacy with any of them. Only Caro. It’s only ever been Caro.
I lie down and kiss her throat, feeling her hot, sweet skin next to mine, as she stretches out like a cat, arching her back and smiling.
“You want to go from behind, Sebastian?” she says, looking up at me, with that wicked gleam in her eye that really fucking turns me on.
“No, baby; I want to come from behind.”
She slaps my chest but rolls onto her front, and lifts her ass in the air.
“Come and get it, big boy!”
I can’t help laughing out loud.
“What films have you been watching, Caro? Come and get it, big boy?”
She smiles over her shoulder at me.
“I made that one up. Original, huh?”
“Yeah, baby. It turns me on.”
She smirks.
“Sebastian, according to you, you get turned on when I ask you to do the dishes!”
“I know, baby; I think it’s the hot water and foam—gets me thinking stuff.”
“I’ve noticed,” she says, drily. “Now am I going to have to wave my ass in the air forever, or are you going to do something about it?”
I’m too much of a fucking gentleman to keep her waiting any longer.
“You want it hard or soft, baby?”
“Both.”
Yeah, I can do that.
I slide myself into her gently, feeling that fucking amazing slight resistance that turns into hot, sweet flesh closing all around me.
“Fuck, Caro!”
She pushes back into me.
Fuck, if she does that again, there ain’t gonna be much chance of ‘soft’.
I slide all the way out, then push into her again, rolling my hips so I can feel her all around me, massaging her inside.
I manage one more slow action before I feel her quiver again and that tips me over the fucking edge. I grip her hips and start pounding into her; the headboard is banging so hard, I think it’s going to go through the fucking wall. Again, I’m surprised when she comes really quickly: normally we have better timing than that. Not that I care, because feeling her clenching around me just brings me on faster. Fuck, that woman can milk me!
I wonder, briefly, if it’s possible to run out of cum. Yeah, well, not so far.
She clenches around me again and I spill into her, pressing her body into the mattress. I pull out carefully and roll onto my back, breathing hard.
Fuck, that felt good!
I didn’t know Christmas Eve could be so much fun—it never has been before; although some of the Christmases I spent with Ches, or Shirley and Mitch were pretty good. Nothing like this, though, obviously.
And I fucking love the fact that we’ve given up condoms. No matter what anyone says, the sensation just isn’t the same. And as for being spontaneous, forget that. I mean, have you ever tried to have shower sex when you’re using condoms? Yeah, well, see what I mean?
But more than that, I love that Caro has given up taking the Pill. It’s like there are no barriers between us. I know she’s worried about being an older mom, but she’ll be so fucking amazing at it. Hell, she’s so fucking patient with me, and I know I’ve given her a really shitty time since I got back from Afghan. But things feel like they’re really on track now.
And she’s promised she’ll give up the war reporting stuff. I know I should feel guilty about that, but I just can’t. I’m relieved that she’s not going to put herself in danger like that anymore. And after what happened to Liz Ashton, I’d fucking burn Caro’s passport and chain her to the bed before I let her get anywhere near an airplane.
But she’s had another offer, one I’m much happier about. She wrote a piece about us biking through Italy. I didn’t even know she’d done it, but one day she came in with this travel magazine and a photograph of me next to my Kawasaki ZZ-R1400 somewhere above Amalfi. That was a great bike. Might have to get another of those.