His Sugarplum: Curves For Christmas Page 3

  Smith hands me the hot cocoa and then sees the tears in my eyes. “Oh Sugar, what is it?”

  “It’s just… you are being so nice to me. I expected… I don’t know, I always assumed one day my brother would get rid of me, to someone who wouldn’t respect me. And I had come to terms with the fact that was my fate, you know. That it was all I deserved. So tonight, when he told me to go with you, I figured the time had finally come. That I’d lose my virginity to a man who was willing to put a price on it. But then... But then you…”

  Tears fall down my cheeks and I try to wipe them away, but my shoulders shake. I set down the cocoa on the coffee table, not wanting to spill it and Smith takes my hand. “Sugar, first of all, you’re priceless. Second of all, fuck that being your fate. You can’t settle. Let yourself dream, girl. Don’t let your brother and his bullshit plans for you be your destiny, Make your own.”

  I close my eyes, “You don’t understand what it’s like for girls like me.”

  “Girls like what?” he asks.

  “Girls who have no money, no skills, no education. I don’t have a lot of options.”

  “And if you had those things, money and resources, what would you do?”

  My eyes open at his words and his sure and solid face greet me with eyes full of compassion, and a body so strong that I feel like I could lean against him and be protected from any of life’s storms.

  “You know what, Smith? No one in my life has ever asked me what I wanted.”

  He smiles, handing me back my cocoa. The marshmallows have melted just like my heart. “Well, Sugarplum, let’s change that. Starting tonight you get to make all the decisions. So, what’ll it be? What do you want?”

  I take a sip of the velvety chocolate, the sweet warmth spreading through my body. Feeling brave, with my hand in his, I answer with absolute certainty. “I want you, Smith. Tonight, I want all of you.”

  5

  Smith

  She says she wants me and I'm not going to tell her no, not after a lifetime of men not giving her what she wants. This time I'll give her exactly what she wants, what she needs, and God, how good it feels to know that I am what she chooses.

  Maybe not for tomorrow, but for tonight she picks me and damn, how I long to show her that I pick her. I draw her against me, our hot drinks set aside, and I run my hands through her honey blonde hair, the long hair I've been eyeing since the first moment I saw her. Now in the low light of the cabin, with the fire in front of us, it practically glows. Sugar is a vision and somehow, she is here with me. My cock aches at the knowledge that I'm finally going to get the one thing I've always wanted: the woman of my goddamn dreams.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, she nods, nervously biting her bottom lip. There’s a hint of a smile pushing through though and it eases my worry that she might have doubts.

  “When you run your hands through my hair, it makes me feel so beautiful,” she whispers.

  “Good,” I tell her, loving her honesty. “Because it makes me feel like a king.”

  Her eyelashes flutter and she looks up at me coyly, as if she’s both nervous and ready. “Do you mind if I…” She licks those pretty pink lips of hers and then begins to run her fingers through my beard. “I’ve been aching to do that since the moment you walked into the bar.”

  “You're saying you saw me before I saw you?” I ask her.

  She smiles. “I was reading a book in the corner. You wouldn't have seen me. I was pretty engrossed in my novel.”

  “Not too engrossed to run your eyes over my beard?”

  She giggles, and God, the sound is sweet. “Yeah, you're my type.”

  “I like the sound of that.” I look at her feeling so lucky. “You’ve really never been with a man, Sugarplum?”

  She shakes her head. “Not even once.”

  “I don't understand how any man could keep their hands off of you,” I say running my own hands down her back, desperate to see her in nothing but a pair of panties and later, not even those.

  “I’ve always been a little shy, I guess.”

  “You seem like you can hold your own though,” I pushed back, remembering her at the poker game.

  “Fair enough,” she says. “But confidence with words and confidence with my body are two different things.”

  “You're not confident with your body? I ask. “God, how's that possible?” I ask with a chuckle. “You're fucking…” I shake my head. There are no words to describe how hot she is. Sitting here in those tight little leggings, this snug sweater. Damn. She looks smoking.

  “Well, I could say the same about you, Smith,” she says, her hands running over my chest as she begins to unbutton my flannel shirt one button at a time. Her nails are red and green, and they catch my eye.

  “You like Christmas, huh?”

  She nods. “I’ve always loved the idea of it. I can't say I've had very many memorable ones, but the idea of stockings hung on a mantel, a Christmas tree in the corner, hot cocoa.” She laughs. “I mean, I gotta be honest with you, you’re kind of nailing it.”

  “Good. I like the thought of nailing things tonight.” We both laugh, and her hands run over my bare chest. “I’ve always had a sweet spot for this holiday. When my mom and dad were alive, they always made it the best day of the year.”

  “They're gone now?” she asks softly.

  “Yeah. Passed away five years ago. “

  “I’m sorry,” she says her voice soft and shaky. I know she means it. Her words practically crack.

  “I’m guessing you've had your fair share of loss too, haven't you, Sugarplum?” I ask her.

  The wounded look in her eyes is back, and I’d do anything to take her pain away tonight. Maybe I can make her forget all those years when she felt alone. When she felt like no one was looking out for her. I'll show her that I can be her North star, the man she can count on.

  “I’m having a hard time sitting here and not devouring you,” I admit to her, my cock aching in my jeans. She pushes off my flannel, my chest bared to her and God, I want her shirt off too.

  “Do what you like to me,” she says. “Because I want all of you, Smith. I like the idea of a man like you touching me, making me feel alive and beautiful. As if I'm yours, even if for just one night.”

  “You know I want more than one night,” I tell her, and she closes her eyes, shaking her head, unable to believe words like that, and I know it's because she has no reason to trust a man. To trust me. But what she's going to learn here real damn quick, is that I don't mess around.

  I say what I mean, and I do what I want and God, I want to do her now. “I’m going to need you in my bed, Sugarplum,” I tell her. “I don't want my Christmas present from under the Christmas tree. I want it on my mattress. I want to unwrap you piece by piece until you're naked in my arms. I want to kiss every inch of your skin until you're begging for more.”

  “For a man who's never been laid, you sure have a way with words,” she teases as I take her hand and lead her to my bedroom.

  “Baby, I've been practicing for this moment for twenty-seven years.”

  She turns around, giving me a smile. “You're crazy, Smith.”

  “Sounds about right, because your body is driving me fucking insane right now.”

  She looks over her shoulder, a few steps ahead of me. “Yeah?”

  My eyes are on her ass when she walks in front of me, my hands ready to squeeze those cheeks together, to run my mouth up and down her ass, up her back, to her neck, and finally, her lips. “I need to make you mine.”

  “Prove it,” she whispers and so I do. I drop to my goddamn knees and spin that girl around, teasing down her leggings past her hips and her creamy thighs. They’re so sweet and I run my hands over them. My mouth kisses her belly. I kiss her pussy and she runs her hands through my hair. I can smell her sweet pussy scent and it’s like a siren call, calling for me. She's wet, so damn wet for me, and I groan in need.

  “I need to taste you, girl,” I tell her. She wh
impers above me.

  “Then taste me,” she says. “Taste all of me.”

  I ease her back on my bed and kneel on the floor before her. I pull down her panties and spread her knees. Her scent my goddamn downfall. I press my mouth to the place it belongs, to her pink pussy, her virgin hole ― the one that she's offered me. She tastes like honey. Like the color of her hair. I run my fingers over her pretty little cunt, needing her to open up so I can taste all of her.

  My mouth presses hard against her pretty pussy, sucking her off the way she needs, my cock throbs in my pants and I know there will be a time for her to touch me too. But now I'm giving my Sugarplum the treat she's been waiting so damn long for.

  I lick her up and down and her back arches, her whimpers growing deeper, louder, less controlled and I can't help but smile. I sop up everything her juicy cunt offers. I spread her pussy lips and dip in a finger, then another. She's so damn tight. I know it's going to be a hard-ass job to sink my cock in there. I don't want to hurt her. It's the last goddamn thing I want to do.

  So, I take it slow. I'll move nice and easy. I lick her, letting every flick of my tongue bring her closer to the edge. My thumb is on her clit and I tease her until she's laughing, and until she's reaching out her hands and threading her fingers through my hair and she's saying my name. Louder. Louder. Smith. Smith. Yes.

  She's close. Ready. God. It feels so good to get her off, this sweet virgin of mine. But this is real. She’s in my bed, in my cabin, in my arms. I bury my mouth so tightly against her pussy that she can't help but gasp.

  “Oh, Smith,” she cries. The longing between us so desperate, so damn deep. My fingers move inside her faster, until she is clinging to me. She moans as an orgasm rushes through her, her wet release dripping against my mouth, my hand. My fucking heart hers.

  She finishes against me, and I tug off my jeans, my cock desperate to be free. I pull her up to sit and lift the hem of her shirt. “I need you bare naked, baby. I need to see all of my Sugarplum.”

  She unclasps her bra and tosses it aside. Her hands placed over her curves. “It’s okay,” I say, pushing her hands to the mattress, wanting to see every inch of her, all of her skin, all of her lush curves, so damn ripe for the plucking.

  “Your tits are so fucking hot,” I tell her, pushing them together, massaging those round globes of glory. Her nipples are hard, and I press my mouth to them. Greedy and needy, wanting to suck her pretty tits.

  She begins to run her hands over my chest, and down to my cock, stroking me. My balls are nice and hot. There’s heat between us everywhere. God, it sounds so good to hear her moaning my name as I massage her breasts together.

  They’re so fucking big. I can't hold them in my hands ― and I have some big fucking hands. I love it. She's so lush and so damn good to me. My cock aches to be pressed between her tits. I want to come on them. Come everywhere. I want to leave my mark on her. I want to make her full of my seed. Give her my baby, breed her, make her mine. God.

  Fuck, the primal thoughts running through my mind would make her blush, but I don't care. I want to fuck her ass. I want to fuck her pussy. I want to fuck her mouth. I want to make her dirty and then I want to set her in my shower and wash every inch of her skin. Make her sparkling clean.

  God, if she knew what I plan on doing to her. I shake my head, my grin fucking obvious.

  “What are you thinking about?” she asks as she strokes me gently.

  “Oh baby, I don't think you could handle all the things I'm thinking.”

  “Start with something simple then,” she says.

  “You sure you want that?” I ask her.

  She nods. “Yes. I want you to tell me what happens next.”

  I lay her back on the bed, her hair falling over her shoulders, my cock thick in her hand. I kiss her neck, her lips, her ear. I whisper, “I wanna fuck you baby. I want to fuck you with my cock so hard that you're ruined for all other men. I want my seed so deep inside you that you're marked as mine forever. That's what I want, and that's what I was thinking. Does that scare you, Sugarplum?”

  Sugar shakes her head. “No, Smith,” she manages. “I’m not scared. I'm ready.”

  6

  Sugar

  When he comes inside me, my world stops being grey… suddenly it’s a thousand bursts of light.

  It hurts, but God, it feels so good. I’m on my back, and Smith is above me, filling me up slowly, sweetly, taking his time. My imperfections fade away, and I allow myself to see my body through his eyes. He seems to love every inch of me.

  And God, how I love every inch of him. He is ripped, chiseled, and comfortable in his skin in a way I’ve always envied. And now, as his thick cock moves deeper inside of me, I feel a new wave of confidence ripple through me.

  I smile, a big wide smile and Smith sees. Sees me. “You look so happy.”

  “I am,” I tell him, grasping at the pleasure he is somehow able to deliver me. “You’re so hot, Smith. I feel like I’m with a supermodel.”

  He kisses me, his hand on my cheek. “I’m no model, but I can be yours.”

  I close my eyes, a hot tear running down my cheek. The idea that Smith wants me… all of me, for more than one night, is too overwhelming an idea. That he wants me for even this night catches my breath. I can’t even contemplate the idea of having him for longer. I don’t want to be heartbroken tomorrow. I want to savor this time with him as the single best night of my life.

  It can be enough.

  Maybe if I say it one hundred times, I’ll believe it.

  “You’re so tight on my cock. God, I imagined having sex but… Sugar…” Smith is at a loss for words and I giggle. Sleeping with another virgin feels so otherworldly. Like I won the lottery at Christmas.

  “I know,” I moan, as he moves deeper in me. “You make me feel so full.”

  He grins. “I’ve seen porn, I figured I had a big cock.”

  “It’s not big, Smith. It’s huge.”

  “Glad you like it, Sugarplum.”

  We stop talking after that because it’s hard to concentrate on words when the feelings rushing through me are so expansive and yet so encompassing.

  Being with Smith isn't about having sex. It's more than that.

  I knew sex was supposed to feel good. I've heard that all my life from foster sisters, from movies, from the girls my brother has dated and the other women I've known in the motorcycle club.

  Sex is supposed to be hot and exciting and thrilling, but this is more than that. It's more than I thought possible and as Smith holds me, cradling me in his big strong arms, I feel small in a way that lets me feel so whole, so complete.

  My heart pounds. This is not how anyone has described sex. I don’t feel caged in. For the first time in my life, I feel so utterly free. I wrap my arms around Smith, my legs around him. My body usually feels so big, like I'm taking up too much space, but here with Smith, I feel just the right size. Like I was made for him. Like his body was made to fill me up and my body was made to take him in.

  His cock moves deeper inside of me and I moan as the pleasure begins to build, my core throbbing as he thrusts deep inside me. My creamy release coating his thick cock as he sinks deeper inside of me, taking me to the edge of oblivion and back again,

  I run my fingers through his thick hair, holding onto him as if for dear life, and he whispers words in my ear, the kind of words I've always wanted to hear.

  Sugar, you're everything. Sugar. You're so tight, so good, so perfect.

  And I lose myself in his words, in his longing. I lose myself in it because it's the exact place I've always wanted to go, a place where I belong. And as Smith fucks me, I believe with all my heart that I could belong to him.

  He finishes, and I finish too, our sweaty bodies pulsing with desire and need, and it's all too much. I've just met a man who's making me think dizzying things. That maybe, just maybe, my life could be about more than being bound to the Badlands. Maybe my life could be about more than surviving an
d getting through the day. Maybe life could be about being someone's sugarplum on Christmas morning.

  “What are you thinking?” Smith asks, looking at me. I roll toward him, his leg hooks over mine, our skin glistening with sweat and sex. My breasts are pushed together. My tummy is bare. But I feel no insecurities because as Smith runs his fingers over my skin, I feel beautiful. Like a goddess.

  “I'm thinking that what we just did exceeded all my expectations about sex. What about you?” I ask him, a delicious smile on my lips as he grunts in pleasure.

  “My cock has been waiting for that moment its whole damn life. You sure as hell didn't disappoint, Sugarplum.”

  I closed my eyes, the smile on my lips so broad. It's hard to make eye contact. I feel so good. I've never felt like this… so utterly fulfilled. Smith runs his hand over my pussy. It's so wet and so warm. His fingers running over the fine hairs of my body.

  “I could fuck you all night,” he tells me, nibbling my earlobe.

  “Then what are you waiting for?” I ask.

  He grins. “Girl, I like having you in my bed. It's been mighty cold up here in the cabin.”

  “I like being in your bed too,” I admit just as his stomach grumbles. I laugh. “Are you hungry?”

  “Reckon I am. I haven't had dinner and it's late.” He looks at the clock on his dresser. It's about to strike midnight. “Almost Christmas morning.”

  “I've never had a Christmas like this,” I say, running my hands over him.

  “I suppose we ought to make the best of it. What do you want for breakfast?”

  “We're having breakfast at midnight?” I ask smiling, feeling cozy in this warm cabin with Smith’s flannel sheets so soft against my skin. He gets up and opens a closet door. He hands me a plaid bathrobe. I sit up from the bed and I wrap it around my body, cinching the waist.

  I feel so sexy wrapped up in his robe. It hangs off my shoulder and I twist my long honey blonde hair into a tie on the top of my head.