My Favorite Holidate: A Standalone Holiday Romance
My Favorite Holidate: Chapter 32

Wilder

Here’s another reason we could never work out—Fable is an inveterate bed hog. She’s a dragon hoarding her gold, amassing pillows and sheets and mattress square-footage. She’s cocooned in the blankets, lying on her stomach in the middle of the king-size bed, leaving me with a sliver of space.

It’s four-thirty in the morning and I’m trying to get a corner of the covers back so I can try and return to sleep. I tug on the red-and-white-checked duvet that she’s gripping, vise-like.

Carefully, I pull on the end of the material, freeing a section of it from her greedy hands. But my lovely dragon just yanks it right into her arms again. She’s stolen all the pillows too. Thrown a leg around one. Stuffed two under her head.

I try one more time, jerking the cover harder to free it…when I jerk her right into my arms. She blinks and opens her eyes.

“Are the pirates here for the cans of soup? I don’t want any hemp. Close the curtains. I can’t take any more flowers after midnight.”

I stifle a laugh. Correction: I stifle a laugh badly. Her eyes widen more, and she blinks off the sleep. Confusion crosses her features even in the darkness, then awareness dawns. “Oh. Sorry. I was having a weird dream.”

“Were you hogging all the covers in it?”

She glances down, then up at me, inching back a little. “Oops. Guess I was.”

“You’re the worst bed hog I’ve ever seen,” I tell her but I’m smiling because finally, fucking finally, I have the cure to my Fable addiction once and for all—she’s a bed thief, ergo we could never work. I like my bed the way I like it—neat, organized, with just enough blanket for me. This is great. Hallelujah and joy to the world!

“I guess I am,” she says, then winces. “I’ll go sleep on the couch.”

Fuck no. She pops up, but I set a hand on her arm, firmly pulling her back down to the mattress. With me. “You’re not sleeping on the couch.”

“But you’re not sleeping at all,” she says.

“I’m fine. I only woke up a few minutes ago without any covers. I told you I get hot at night anyway,” I say.

She looks down at the tangle of sheets and duvet then quickly untangles them, spreading them out on top of me, patting them to my chest like she’s tucking me in. “There.”

“You do know this is how we started trying to share this bed? We were both under the covers. Then you, my little dragon, stole them all.”

“Why are you smiling then?”

Because I can get over you at last. But I can’t say that to her. Instead, I say, “Because you’re adorable when you sleep.”

“I’m not. I’m a monster, even alone. I wake every morning twisted up in my sheets. Sometimes my pillows are on the floor. But it’s been a while since I…well, shared a bed with someone.”

That’s surprising, given her romantic situation with fuckface a few weeks ago. “Not with Brady?”

She shakes her head. “He never spent the night at my place. I never did at his either.”

I’m rarely surprised, but now that’s twice in a few seconds. “Never? Why not?”

“He said he slept better alone, and he needed to be fresh for the markets. It was fine,” she says, but she sounds stoic. Like maybe it wasn’t fine.

“Did you want him to? Spend the night?” I ask in a strangled voice. I’m the dragon now, seething with stupid envy over a past romance. And I know better. I shouldn’t ask about another man but this feels important for some reason. Now that I’ve gone down this path, I’m not stopping.

She twists the covers in her hands, her expression thoughtful as the moonlight streams across her lovely face. “The thing is—I wasn’t bothered as much as I should have been. I mean, a man should want to spend the night, right?” She turns toward me, tilting her head, her gaze curious.

My chest aches. A fire roars in me. “If you were mine, you’d be with me every night. If you were mine, I’d tell you how much I want you to stay over.” And fuck it. The sheet stealing is adorable after all because…of course it is. “If you were mine, I’d never care that you’re a bed hog.”

She swallows, parts her lips, then says, “I’d try not to be a bed hog for you.”

My heart clutches. So much for my efforts to erect some distance between us. All I want is to get closer to her now. To feel what it would be like if she were mine. I really should try to go back to sleep, so I motion for a pillow.

She hands one to me, then says, “What about you?”

“What about me?” I ask as I lie back on the pillow.

“Did you want your last girlfriend to spend the night? When was your last relationship? Was it Felicity?”

“The last serious one, yes,” I admit.

“Why didn’t it work out with her? Did she steal the sheets?”

I smile then lift a hand and stroke Fable’s hair, swiping it off her cheek. My fingers tingle as I touch her soft skin. I shouldn’t do this—indulge. And yet, I’m doing it, and she’s…inching a little closer. I answer her with, “We were together for a few years after Mac was born. But in the end, we were better as friends. As co-parents. We didn’t have that…spark. We got along almost too well.”

She nods a few times, then asks, “You didn’t fight, you mean?”

I picture my arguments with Fable in the last few weeks, the times she’s teased me, the moments she’s sparred with me, then our heated fight earlier—and the filthy, fantastic way it ended. I could fight her and fuck her every day if she were mine. “We didn’t,” I say.

“There hasn’t been anyone else?”

“Some dates. A few that turned into a little more. A couple months here, a couple months there.”

“But that was it?”

“Yes,” I say, wondering where she’s going.

“Do you not want that? Romance? Love? A partner?” She sounds hopeful. Looks it too.

Oh.

Well, it’s obvious now that that’s where she was headed, yet it’s a punch in the gut. Because I don’t want to lie to her. But I’m also starting to question everything I thought I knew about romance. I don’t have new answers, though, so I try to opt for the truth. “It’s not that I don’t want it. It’s that I don’t know if I can trust.”

Her hopeful smile falters. “Oh. Sure.” Her brow furrows. “Do you—” But quickly she shakes her head, like she doesn’t want to go there.

“Do I trust you?” I ask impulsively, finishing her thought.

She shrugs, then waves a hand. “It’s silly. Don’t answer it.”

I don’t know how to trust. I don’t know how to trust something born from a lie. And yet, here I am trusting her with the things I tell no one—like my feelings about love. “I trust that this agreement is working out well,” I say, as diplomatically as I can.

She purses her lips, then nods, like it’s hard to stay tough. “It would be. If I wasn’t such a bed hog.”

She’s trying to make light of the situation. I know she is. And I hate going back to bed on such a somber note. “And yet there’s no place I’d rather be right now,” I say, then run a finger through her hair one more time. I’m a selfish prick, indulging. “I’ll get another blanket from the hall closet, my little dragon.”

“Good idea,” she says, smiling again, and I head to the closet, grab a fleece, and return.

As I walk back to bed, Fable’s staring at me with wide, glassy eyes.

“What is it?”

“You’re…” she begins, her words like sandpaper. “You’re only wearing boxer briefs.”

I let my lips curve into a sly grin. “But you knew that. I was lying there in bed with only boxer briefs on. I took off my shirt and shorts while you were gathering your gold.”

“I guess I didn’t really take it in when I woke up.” She licks her lips. “But I’m taking it in now.”

That look in her eyes. So much for my restraint earlier. So much for holding back.

Fuck it. Just fuck it all.

I reach the bed, standing at the edge of it, letting her take it in a little longer. “Maybe you don’t want to steal all the covers then.”

I let my words hang there. An invitation perhaps. A suggestion. But really, an incentive for her to share.

“I don’t think I do,” she says, her smile a little lusty as she lets the covers fall to her waist.

It’s like she’s lain bare before me even in her cami. All that creamy flesh on display. My bones are tight. My skin is hot. I kneel on the edge of the mattress, ready to climb over her and devour her sweet, lush mouth.

But right as I set a hand down by her face, she presses her palm to my bare chest. Her touch makes me suck in a breath. “You said you were sorry earlier. Let me say thank you,” she says.

My brow knits. “What…what do you mean?”

She nibbles on the corner of her lips as her gaze drifts down my body. “You’ve always said you like my gifts. My homemade gifts.”

“I did. And I do,” I say, wondering what she’s getting at.

She blows me the faintest kiss. “Then let me say thank you for all you’ve done for me. A proper thank you.”

And I’m connecting the dots all right. So is my cock. Still, I have to say the next thing, “You don’t have to say thank you for those things.”

Even though I really fucking want her to.

She slides her palm down my pecs, over my abs, her heated eyes never leaving mine. “But I want to, Wilder. I want to so, so much.”

I could say it’s the second so that does me in. I could say it’s the bed we’re sharing. I could even blame the romantic snow outside the windows. But I don’t. Even though, yes, it’s all of those things, but mostly it’s this—her want.

Her words.

The plea on her lips.

I can’t deny her.

I run my thumb across her top lip. “Then show me, honey. Show me how you say thank you.”

In a flash, she sets both hands on my chest and pushes me down on the bed. She plays with the waistband of my boxer briefs. “Take it off, boss,” she says, and my entire body crackles with electricity.

“You like calling me boss,” I observe as I reach for her hand.

“I also like your orders,” she says.

Well, then. “Then, you take them off.”

Like I’ve given her the keys to a sports car she’s been raring to drive, she tugs them down, gasping as she frees my cock.

Her lips part into the most devilish smile. “Oh, yes. I see the stockings have definitely been hung. And I’d like to say thank you for that.”

I laugh, but I’m too turned on for my laughter to last long. Besides, if she wants to say thank you, I’m going all in with this game. I reach for her face, running my thumb along her jawline. “Do it, Fable. Thank me with those perfect lips.”

She shivers. She fucking shivers, like this is her fevered dream when it’s completely mine. I wrap a hand around the base of my aching shaft and point it toward her. “Don’t make me wait,” I tell her in a rough, demanding voice. “That wouldn’t be very courteous, now, would it?”

A gasp falls from her pretty mouth as she slides down the bed, settling between my thighs. Then, she darts out her tongue and licks the head, and I groan so loud I’d be afraid neighbors would hear if we had any.

“Yessss, you’re so fucking polite,” I mutter.

“But I’ve barely touched you,” she says, teasing me with another caress of the crown with her tongue as she licks off a drop of pre-come.

“And that’s about to end. Because I want you to show me your manners,” I tell her. “Take me deep right now.”

She stops licking only to slide her face down the side of my dick. Holy fuck. She’s rubbing my cock against her cheek, and I am shaking with lust. Her eyes float closed as she moves her face, returning her lips to my shaft, then licking down the other side. “I will…I swear, I will…It’s just…so good,” she murmurs.

I can’t take it. Can’t stand how good this feels. How sexy she is. How much I want her. I can barely handle the way I’m strung tight in every goddamn cell. The desire to take her, throw her down and eat her, then finger her, then fuck her till she comes all over my cock overwhelms me.

But.

I’d come too soon. I’m already close to the edge. I’m not sure I can last long. I fight off the urge to say let me fuck you now, honey. Instead, I say in my most stern voice, “If you say please, I’ll fuck your throat.”

She lifts her face, meets my gaze, then swirls that wicked tongue around the head one more time. “Please and thank you,” she whispers against my cock. Then, she drops down, and takes me all the way into her lush mouth.

Sparks fly across my nerves. Pleasure rockets through my whole body. And Fable sucks me deep, and relentlessly, and urgently. “Yes, fucking yes,” I tell her, letting go of the manners game at last. I curl a hand tighter around her head, her silky copper hair falling through my fingers. She reaches up, presses her hand tighter around mine, a signal to grip harder.

I comply as she swallows my dick once more, her hands returning to my thighs.

Her lips are stretched wide. Her head bobs up and down. I guide her along. “Yes, you’re so good at that. Look at you. Taking my dick all the way.”

The praise seems to spur her along. To suck faster. Relax deeper. Work my dick over and over with her intoxicating mouth. Lust barrels down my spine. My balls tighten. “Don’t stop,” I command. “Don’t you dare fucking stop.”

She goes faster with the order, then her right hand disappears…under her jammies and between her thighs. I go up in flames. “You’re soaked, aren’t you? Bet your fingers are so fucking wet right now. All from you sucking my dick.”

On a nod, she moans. She fucking moans against my cock. And that’s it. I’m done. My release crashes into me, obliterating all my senses as I come down her throat with a long, strangled groan.

My vision blurs. The world burns away. I am nothing but white-hot lust. And I don’t stop moaning for a long, long time.

But I’m not so far gone that I lose sight of one very important thing. When she lets my dick fall from her mouth, I shoot her a wicked grin. “Where are my manners? I need to say I’m sorry for coming first.”

I tap her hip, and in no time, she pushes off her pajamas.

“Good,” I say. “Now sit on my face.”

Her eyes widen like I’ve given her a Christmas gift. “Yes, sir.”

A minute later, she’s fucking my face till I can barely breathe, and I’m all too happy to be smothered in her pleasure. She comes hard, loud and beautifully, and I’m certain I’m already addicted to her.

So much that when I gently ease her off me and set her down next to me on the bed, I whisper, “Now give me one more, honey. I know you can.”

She blinks woozily. “What?”

“You can do it,” I say, then I stretch an arm to the nightstand and slide open the drawer.

“What are you doing?” she asks, her tone dripping with intrigue.

Well, I suppose the truth is—I gave in to all this desire for her before I even got in the car to drive up here. I just didn’t admit it till now. I came prepared, after all. “I got you a toy. For Christmas,” I say, then take out a brand-new bullet vibrator. With a red nose and two antlers.

Her jaw falls open in wild delight. “Is that a Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer vibrator?”

“Yes. Should we see if it makes you glow?”

She tosses her head back and lets out a throaty, “Won’t you guide my sleigh tonight?”

I turn it on then give her another order. “Spread those pretty thighs,” I tell her.

She obeys beautifully, parting for me.

I glide it over her eager clit till she’s arching, gasping, and moaning. Then, my wild, wonderful woman pushes up to her elbows and grabs my face, yanking me closer, her hungry lips devouring mine as I pick up the pace, replaceing just the perfect rhythm. In a few seconds, our kisses turn sloppy, and she’s clawing at my hair then falling back onto the pillow as she shouts out with something much naughtier than glee.

I sigh happily. A very contented man. Even more so when Fable curls up next to me and says, “Those are the real reindeer games.”

“Yes, they are,” I say.

After, we straighten up, then we both return to the bed with the fleece I retrieved a little while ago at the foot of it.

This time, I don’t set any new rules like we can’t do that anymore. I don’t erect any guidelines to ensure it won’t happen again. I’ve broken them all already. So I simply slide back under the covers with her and embrace the moment.

“Turn the other way,” I say. She does, then I shift closer, wrap an arm around her, and press a soft kiss to the back of her neck. She still smells faintly like strawberries and champagne from her shower earlier. I want to hold her and keep her in my arms this morning and tonight and all the nights.

Instead, I try to stay in the moment since all this practice is going to end far too soon. “It’s good practice,” I murmur, trying to let go of the racing thoughts of the future.

“Cuddling?”

“Yes.”

“It is,” she says with a sigh.

I close my eyes and breathe her in. If she were mine, I’d never want her to leave.

Later, I wake to the sun streaming through the window, Fable clutching my arm to her chest, and the two of us together under the covers.