hello there, trigger warning here. HUGE trigger warning. MAJOR trigger warning. I advise you skip this chapter if you have any concern for certain subjects and themes.
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Let not sin
therefore reign
in your mortal body,
to make you obey its passions.
ROMANS 6:12
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THIS IS HIS FAVOURITE.
It's vacuum sealed to my skin, a tight fit on my every curve and arc, my waist small and my hips supple, like the perfect hook for his hand to hold onto at night. It's a hot, fire engine red, and he said it brings out the color of my eyes, but I think it brings out his: blazing, hungry want.
Everyone decided that we would go with the traditional colors of red and green this year, to truly revel in the Christmas glee when celebrating our Saviour's birth. Joy and merriness dance across the room like the twinkling fairy lights of the glorious pine tree, everyone bursting with infectious, spirited grins and topped with Santa hats. Warm, amber light from the hearth spills over the decorated space as my family gathers round on the floor, getting ready to open the presents.
I look at him across the room, standing out on the balcony.
Night had long fallen over the sky, the promise of heat gone with the vanquished sun of the winter's day. The bitter wind howls and scratches against the glass window, beckoning us to let him in for a treat of untouched skin. Outside is a barren wasteland of white, where it appears the only survivor of the biting battle is him.
Taking long, slow drags of his cigarette, he stands leaning against the wooden post in nothing but his black dress pants and winter coat, his figure solid and towering. He faces the bare trees and icy garden, unmoving and still, as if part of a landscape tableau. He catches me staring at him when he turns around.
His lips stretch into a grin so wide it looks like his face might split into two. He squeezes his way through the sliding doors before shutting them and striding towards me. The glow of the fire flickers on his face, calling attention to his features — all dark yet soft, glaring yet gentle — like an angel.
Long arms wrap around my waist from behind and his nose buries itself into my neck. I lean into his chest. He smells like gingerbread, vanilla with a biting spice. I kiss the spot on his jaw just beneath his ear, and a low hum rumbles against my neck as his fingers tighten on me.
"Aw, well won't you look at that?" Nana interrupts. Her hands clasp together against her cheeks with a shining thrill in her eyes. "Let's hope I get some grandchildren next Christmas."
Everyone in the room erupts into deep laughter.
"Mm. I can't wait for next year, then," he whispers, his breath hot against my ear.
A shiver in my shoulders unfurls goosebumps down my bare arms. I look at him. Beaming with childlike delight, his eyes smolder with thick, heavy desire. A zing of electricity involuntarily shoots right down my core. I ignore it.
"It's time to open presents!" my nephew, George, squeals and runs to Nana to tug at her skirt.
My father speaks up. "Go on then."
