A Snowflake Wish

~

The kitchen was a mess. Counters and cabinets were covered in dough and sugar due to an unfortunate incident between Deckard and her hand mixer. But they had been laughing so hard the entire time, she almost forgot to grab the baking sheet from the oven in time.

Together they cut out the individual patterns for the sides and roof of the houses and placed all the different candies and decorations in bowls. Deckard’s eyes widened in delight as January brought out a new set of ingredients from her fridge.

“What else are we making?” he asked adorably with flour sme

ared across his cheek. She touched his face to wipe it away, but her hand lingered there for a beat longer than was necessary.

“Sorry, you have something right here,” she tried to explain, but her voice was soft and breathy. January felt the air around them shift. Her body began to feel warm all over. Deckard extended an arm and rested his hand on her hip, his fist gathering the material of her red sweater in its grasp.

January’s thumb stroked back and forth just above the scruff on his cheek as his thumb did the same on the exposed skin of her hip. They didn’t speak, but January could feel the anticipation building until the barrier between them shattered.

With a yank he pulled her toward him at the same time that she had begun to slide her hand toward the back of his head. Their kiss was hot, frantic, and uncontrollable. Neither fought for dominance, their mouths and tongues brushed and licked with familiarity.

Deckard moved them so that January’s back was pressed against the island and she felt the bulge in his jeans press against her stomach. She yearned to feel it between her legs.

She didn’t have to wait long.

Using his muscled arms, Deckard lifted her effortlessly onto the island counter, neither of them caring about the mess they were making as they pushed the ingredients aside. Leftover flour now coated her pants and his hands. With his arms on either side of her legs, he caged her in and stepped between her legs pressing his impressive length against her center. January moaned uncontrollably as Deckard rocked his hips against her.

January knew that she had gone a long while without an orgasm, but she never imagined that the friction from Deckard’s jean-covered erection would bring her to her release so quickly.

“Oh, fuck,” she as her muscles began to tense. But then Deckard took a step back, leaving her in all of her aching glory.

“What are you -”

“You’re not going to come unless it’s my hand, my mouth, or my cock in that pussy.”

He began to grip the edges of her sweater and lift it up her body, but January was too lost in his words. Damn, it was like adding pure oxygen to an already stifling fire. January wasn’t sure if she could explode from a sentence alone, but she was pretty freaking close.

“You teased me earlier. I want a better look,” he added as he tossed her sweater off in the distance. “Damn, you are perfection.”

January couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. She could barely remember to breathe as Deckard unhooked her bra and used his large hands to cup her breasts. They felt like ice against her heated skin and her back arched at the sensation, her nipples pebbling beneath his palms.

For some reason, January didn’t second guess their actions as she had yesterday. This moment felt different, it felt right.

He must have known that she was getting lost in her own head again because he leaned forward and captured one of her breasts in his mouth. January had to slam her hands against the counter to brace herself against the onslaught.

It was a heady sensation overtaking January’s body that she had very little conscious thought about the things going on around her. All she knew was that she wanted was Deckard’s shirt gone. She blindly reached out and gripped the back of his shirt, tugging with very little strength to slide it over his head.

Deckard seemed to realize her desire because he pulled away to lift the shirt from his body. January found herself groaning as she pried her eyes open to look. He was tanned and muscled to faultlessness with a small smattering of hair across his chest. A soft trail of hair led from his navel to the cock still nestled within his jeans, and January couldn’t look away, but Deckard took the choice away from her.

With a quick flip, the button on her jeans came undone and Deckard expertly slid down the zipper plunging his hand under her lace panties. Her moans echoed in the kitchen at the intrusion of his fingers skimming across her clit seeking out her core.

“Deckard.” She ached for him, yearned for more than just his touch, and Deckard somehow read her mind as he slipped two of his fingers deep within her tight sheath. “Oh my god,” she mumbled incoherently.

As her second climax approached with his deft fingers, January couldn’t hold back. One of her arms swung out and clawed at his back as she rode his hand to her release.

“Let go, baby,” he whispered against her neck and January tried to chase her release over the edge, but she couldn’t get there. Her muscles and legs were strung so tight waiting for the sensation to take over, but she just couldn’t get there.

Deckard heard her mewling plea and leaned forward, sealing her lips with his. That’s all it took, just the second of time where she was lost in him and not her own head. She bit his bottom lip as she fell apart, feeling the twinge of metallic flavor swirl in her mouth.

He held her up as her muscles loosened, one of his arms braced against the counter while the other wrapped around her waist. It took January a few minutes to drift back into herself. The smell of gingerbread filtered through her senses and she remembered where she was.

Sitting up straighter, her eyes immediately fell on the bulge, still thick and solid, beneath his jeans. Wanting to do something for him, she dropped down from the counter and skimmed her hands up his legs as she knelt before him.

But he didn’t let her get very far as his hands slipped under her arms and lifted her back onto her feet.