She gets there first, thank fuck. Her pussy tightens and convulses around my cock, making every thrust feel a million times better. I let go and thrust inside her hard one last time, burying myself deep and letting her pussy milk every last drop from my dick.
I collapse in a heap on top of her, out of breath, out of strength. I fucked every last bit of into her. Now I just need to lie here for a minute, thoroughly sated.
Carly wraps her arms around me more snugly, holding me close. I can feel her heart hammering in her chest as she recovers, too.
“Well, wasn’t expecting that,” she murmurs, after a minute.
I smile faintly. “No?”
“Nope. Thought you hated me. Not entirely sure you don’t,” she adds, scowling up at me. “Lots of whore talk in there.”
I rub a hand across my cheek. “Yeah, you got me pretty good.”
“You’re lucky I only slapped you. I thought about closing my fist.”
I smirk at her. “Don’t try to fight me. I promise you, you will lose.”
She smirks right back. “As long as I get an angry fuck out of it, I can live with that.”
I bury my face in her neck, chuckling. “I like you.”
“I like you, too,” she informs me.
I use what strength I’ve collected to pull back and look down at her. “Still?”
Carly nods her head, holding my gaze and raking her fingers through my hair. “You’re still my Superman.”
My body is already settled and satisfied, but her words have the same affect on my heart. I wasn’t completely sure that between the two of us, her past and my present, my demons and her ghosts, we hadn’t fucked everything up.
Her words fill me with confidence that we didn’t.
Chapter Seventeen
Vince
“I look ridiculous.”
Carly smiles, smoothing her hand down the front of my chest, lingering on the symbol in the center. “You look sexy. And festive.”
“Those two things are not possible at the same time,” I inform her.
“Tell that to my lady parts. I’d drag you to the bedroom for a quickie if it wouldn’t mean fixing my hair all over again.”
I sigh heavily. Carly fiddles with the neck of my sweater.
“And I have some Mrs. Claus lingerie that’s going to make you eat every last wrong syllable you just uttered, mister,” she adds. “I’ll wear it for you later.”
She stands back to gaze proudly at her handiwork. The Christmas sweater Carly bought for me is blue with a Superman symbol at the center, wrapped up in Christmas lights to make it Christmassy.
“Perfect,” Laurel announces, nodding her approval. “After we do take two of the family photo, we can all have a brookie. All of this nonsense will pay off soon.”
“What, exactly, is a brookie?” I ask, though I’m half afraid of the answer.
“It’s basically the Christian idea of Heaven, but in a cake pan,” Laurel states.
“It’s the divine union between a brownie and a cookie,” Carly explains.
“One bite, your taste buds will rejoice. By the end of the brookie, they’ll be convinced they died and are, in fact, in taste bud heaven.”
“I only make them at Christmastime and birthdays, otherwise I would have to spend four to six hours a day working off all the brookie I would absolutely consume. I would have no time to live my life.”
I fit my hands on her hips, tugging her close and brushing a kiss against her lips. “I’d help you work it off. It could be fun for both of us.”
Carly grins, wrapping her arms around my neck. “See? You’re basically a saint.”
“The stench of self-sacrifice hangs heavy in this room,” Laurel deadpans. “Can you guys keep your hands off each other long enough to snap a picture, please? My brookie is waiting.”
“We’re keeping Laurel from her brookie,” Carly informs me, her eyes solemn. “We’re putting our very lives at stake.”
“Worth it,” I tell her, stealing one more kiss before I let her pull back and go to set up the camera. Carly forcefully poses all of us. Laurel is apparently accustomed to this, so she happily lets Carly adjust the hat on her head—they’re wearing Christmas hats that match their sweaters; I am not—and move my arm around Laurel’s shoulder.
I feel a little awkward with my arm around my girlfriend’s sister. Laurel makes it a little less uncomfortable when she jokes, “We should send a copy to your dude at the movie theater. Pretty sure you’re his idol. He can hang it up in his bedroom.”
I smirk. “I don’t think he could handle one of you, let alone both.”
Carly comes back to my other side so I can wrap my other arm around her. “It does kind of look like we’re polygamists, doesn’t it? I may not have thought this pose through. That’s okay, if this one’s weird, we’ll try again. Digital photography. We could fill the memory card with poses if we wanted to.”