A Snowflake Wish

“Caught you,” he murmured as he sunk down to rest on his elbows, their noses only an inch apart.

With a shaking hand, January reached up to feel the soft strands of his hair between her fingers. They felt like the finest silk. He leaned into her touch as if it were his talisman. A shuttered breath fell from his lips while her thumb gently glided back and forth across his forehead.

January loved seeing him relaxed at her touch. There was something that made her heart skip a beat at watching him so affected by her.

She felt his hand slide up her arm until it rested over hers, clasping their fingers together as he drew her arm over her head.

A magnetic force pulled their lips together and the bond was so strong that neither of them could pull apart – not that she wanted to. She felt herself slipping away into oblivion. There was no bedroom, no guilt, no loss of Christmas - it was just her and Deckard.

With each brush of their lips and swipe of their tongues, their eagerness grew. One of Deckard’s hands slid down her body to rest on her waist before slipping beneath her sweater to rest on her skin. At the same time, January’s leg hitched alongside his hip. A muscled thigh pressed against her center as he adjusted himself above her and she was careening into bliss.

January’s hips moved on instinct, rocking against the sweet friction that his leg created. There was a tent growing in his pants as he rocked against her. January wanted to discover what he tasted like, to find out if the skin was soft, smooth, and velvety.

Her heart rate picked up when Deckard practically ripped her sweater over her head and tossed it across the room. She arched her back on impulse and he slipped his fingers along her spine to flip the hooks on her bra. He gripped the front of her lace bra, the small piece of material just between the cups, and plucked it away from her body, throwing it in the same direction as her sweater.

“Your turn,” she exclaimed as she tugged at the hem of his shirt.

Sitting up, Deckard crawled backward off the bed then stood at the foot of the mattress. In the way that has always amazed January, Deckard pulled at the back of his shirt and jerked the cotton over his head. His bare chest called out to her and she wanted to, needed to, touch the defined ridges. Effortlessly her upper body lifted off the bed. It felt like she had floated over to him; suddenly her fingers were tracing the dips and definitions of his abdomen.

A hiss escaped between Deckard’s teeth as she knelt on the floor before him and pressed a kiss to the skin on his hip just above the waistband of his jeans. January nipped and sucked as she made her way across to the opposite side of his body.

“I want to taste you,” January explained, her fingers toying with the button on his jeans silently waiting for his permission, but also not caring either way.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his head falling backward as she slipped the button free, slid the zipper downward, and tugged on the sides of the denim to pull them toward the floor. His boxer briefs quickly followed.

January stared at his length for a minute. It was standing proudly with all of its impressive length and girth. She had never described a cock as beautiful before, but Deckard’s easily fell into that category. Her mouth salivated in yearning.

Giving a blowjob wasn’t something January did often, or with a cock as imposing as Deckard’s, but right now, she wanted to do nothing more. She needed to please him the same way he had pleased her.

Tentatively she wrapped her hand around the base of his shaft, not surprised when her fingers didn’t come close to touching. Lightly she slid her hand up and down a few times, learning what spots were the most sensitive, then she couldn’t hold back any longer.

Her tongue tasted the pulsing vein on the underside of his cock and she followed the path until she reached the head. January opened her lips as wide as possible to accommodate the erection. She couldn’t take much of him inside her mouth, but Deckard didn’t seem to mind as she swirled her tongue around the head.

“Holy shit,” he groaned, placing his hand gently on the back of her head, sinking his fingers into her hair.

His declaration spurred her onward. She picked up her pace and her hands slid up and down his shaft as she continued to suck the head in and out of her mouth. Pressure from Deckard’s hand behind her head increased her movements and she loved how he seemed to be losing control.

Then he stopped.

Deckard’s chest was heaving, and as January peered up at him, he had a crazed look in his eyes. She loved that she was able to do that to him – unleash his caged animal.

“Get on the bed,” he commanded. His voice was dark, menacing, and slivered around January like a viper ready to bite.

Her panties were immediately soaked.

The moment her bottom hit the mattress, Deckard lifted her under her arms and tossed her back on the bed saying, “Taking too long.” He moved so swiftly, January felt as if she was going to get whiplash as he pulled at her boots and socks. With one enormous yank, he had her jeans and panties off in one swoop of his arms, like a magician wielding his magic wand. She didn’t have time to see where the clothes had landed because his mouth settled on her sex and January could barely remember her name.

He wasn’t gentle, or soft as he laved at her center. Deckard was almost punishing in the way he sucked and nipped at her. It was a punishment that January was all too willing to take.

But as much as she enjoyed having his mouth on her folds, she wanted to feel him inside her. She wanted that missing puzzle piece to make their connection complete.

“Deckard, please,” she begged, but he ignored her, adding his thumb to circle around her bundle of nerves.

Her legs started to shake on either side of his head as her pleasure rose, and before she could blink, January erupted against his mouth. So many stars twinkled in her line of sight that January was afraid she had hit her head like she had when she was younger, had fallen from a tree, and earned herself a concussion.

Deckard continued to slide his hand up and down her overly sensitive core, but his focus was on her.

“Please tell me you have protection,” he pleaded. January blindly reached over and opened the drawer to her nightstand, grabbing an unused box of condoms. She carelessly tossed it in Deckard’s direction. “Thank goodness.”