WHEN IS the right time to tell someone you love them?
Falling in love was not what I expected to do this year. I’ve never been in love, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to tell her without her running. She only said the word boyfriend out loud to other people a couple of days ago, and now suddenly I’m thinking of hitting her with those three words? I must be losing it.
But I can’t help it, they’re on the tip of my tongue constantly.
My anxiety might come from knowing it’s been a series of unfortunate events that’s brought us to where we are now—an incredibly fortunate situation—which doesn’t happen very often. I feel lucky. That’s the only word that seems appropriate because things could have gone the complete opposite direction.
I could talk for hours about her beauty. Describe every freckle, every faint line, every inch of her body. Anastasia is like the sun, warm and blindingly beautiful. But to be honest, it’s not what makes her my person.
I’m in love with her determination and her commitment, her soft side, the way she manages to tell me exactly how she’s feeling and why, no matter how uncomfortable it might make her at first.
She’s taught me communicating doesn’t mean everything is perfect, it doesn’t mean we don’t disagree. It means we work through the imperfect bit together, and if we don’t agree, we at least know why the other feels that way, even if it’s not going to change our minds. We’re still individuals, but we’re individuals together, and I never knew relationships could be like this.
Above all else, she cares about me and my happiness. She makes me study, she encourages me to talk about my mom; I could lie here and list all the things she does that push me to be the version of myself I want to be. She’s my best friend.
I need to stop waiting for shit to go wrong because I know things aren’t supposed to be perfect, and we’re both stubborn and determined enough to fix the bits that aren’t working for us.
It feels too early to be able to make those kinds of statements. Shit, it feels too early to be in love. Three-and-a-bit months isn’t long, but when we’ve spent as much time together as we have, I think I can be forgiven for my confidence.
I should definitely just tell her.
Dragging myself from my thoughts, I brush her cheek with my thumb. “We can get Christmas decorations if it makes you sad. We can go right now.”
“It’s not that. I don’t care. I just hate the idea that you’d have arrived alone, and your dad didn’t even bother putting a Christmas tree up for you. Or Sasha! Poor Sasha.”
“They’re hardly ever here. They’re always at the resort,” I explain. “It’s not a big deal to me, I swear. But we can go and buy a Christmas tree if you want to, I didn’t think. I know it’s not like your parents’ house, I should have prewarned you. I’m sorry.”
“No, no. Please don’t apologize to me. I’m sorry. I’ll cheer up, I swear.” She shakes it off and forces a smile, laughing when my brow furrows. Stas climbs off me and throws herself back onto the mattress. “Oh my God.” She moans and my dick twitches in my pants. “This bed is divine. It’s warm! How the hell is it warm?”
“I asked Betty to put the heated blanket on when she dropped off food.”
“Is Betty your other girlfriend?” Raising her foot into the air, she tugs at her boot and launches it over the side of the bed.
“Betty is our housekeeper. She’s about a hundred and she’s worked for my family for years,” I say, watching Stassie attempt to remove her other boot with great difficulty. “She refuses to retire, and she makes the best mashed potatoes in the whole world. She’s great, you’ll like her. We won’t see her, though, I told her to take time off and spend it with her fami—do you need help?”
She stops trying to remove her sweatshirt, which is also tangled in her hair and stuck on her watch. Her eyes peer at me over her arm. “I was trying to get undressed to seduce you, but God getting undressed in this climate is tiring. I should have pulled my pants down a little and bent over.”
Her thrashing continues until she’s free, but it only reveals another layer. I kick off my own boots and tug at my zipper, unwilling to be left behind. The main downside of being in the mountain is how long it takes to get naked. I made Anastasia layer up this morning before our flight, thinking the first thing she’d want to do when we got here would be to check out the lake, but I don’t think it’s even crossed her mind.
“Done!” she shouts, breathless but sporting a smug grin. “I beat you.”
Only Anastasia Allen could turn getting naked before sex into a competition, then declare herself the winner. Climbing up the bed, propping herself against the headboard, she watches me watching her with a mischievous smirk on her face.
Finally kicking off my boxers, I crawl toward her, stopping when her foot presses against the center of my chest. Sitting back onto the heels of my feet, I grip her foot, pressing my mouth against her ankle as she giggles. “What’s your prize for winning?”
Jumping when my teeth graze her skin, her lips pinch together as she pretends to think. “Hmm. Can you be my prize?” She hums, eyes shining when I nod. “I want to watch you touch yourself.”
I almost choke.
Pulling her foot from my grip, she plants it on the bed, giving me the perfect view of her pink, wet pussy. I could spend hours trying to predict what Anastasia is going to say and do next, but I’d never be right.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I say, leaning forward to hover over her body. “Staring at me with those big doe eyes like you didn’t just say you want to watch me jerk off.”
Her chin tilts up, mouth searching for mine. She smells so good. How the hell does she smell so fucking good all the time? Sweet and delicious and maddening. Pulling her body to mine, I roll us over so I’m on my back, and position her so she’s straddling my thighs. I’m already rock hard; how could I not be after what she just said? She immediately reaches for it, but I grip her wrist. “Hands behind your back, Allen.”
She doesn’t know where to focus as her eyes bounce between my face, my flexing stomach, and the hand fisting my cock. I groan her name, enjoying the surprising flicker across her face, quickly morphing into something darker.
Her hips squirm, looking for friction she isn’t going to find with her legs spread wide by my thighs, and she fidgets as her eyes follow my fist up and down.
“You’re so fucking hot,” she rasps, eyes dark. “Let me touch you, please.”
“But I’m giving you what you wanted.” Reaching up with my free hand, I tweak her nipple between my fingers, the moan she lets out is a mix of satisfaction and frustration. Pumping my hand faster, the pleasure begins to lick up my spine, tingling and building.
Wiggling farther away from me, my eyebrow quirks with curiosity. Placing a tentative hand on the bed beside my hips, she leans down, eyes locked with mine. She leans forward, hovering so she’s not touching me.
“What’re you doing?” I ask, reducing my hand to an agonizingly slow pace.
“What about if I don’t use my hands? Can I touch you then?”
“Open your mouth, baby.”
You’d think I’m the one in control of this situation, but you’d be wrong. I watch her, fucking mesmerized, as she licks and kisses from the base to just before the tip, pausing to watch me hold my breath, desperately wanting her to slip me into her hot, wet mouth.
She doesn’t. I feel her hot breath on the tip, she’s that fucking close, but she kisses and licks her way down to my balls, sucking on them softly.
Letting the breath I’m holding go, I drag my hand through my hair when her tongue swirls around me. “Fuck, you look so good.”
She carries on teasing me, touching everywhere but the tip that’s throbbing and glistening with precum. I know she’s going to keep going until I’m at the point where I’m ready to fucking beg her.
I’m ready to beg now.
One final look at my tortured expression and she smiles, looking genuinely pleased with herself, and I’m ready to fuck the smugness off her face.
She slowly—and I mean slowly—lowers her mouth onto me, and I can’t help but lift my hips to speed up the process. A satisfied mhmm vibrates against my dick, and she hollows out her cheeks and tries to suck the soul from my body.
Holy fucking shit.
Scooping her hair, I wrap it around my fist in a makeshift ponytail, holding it tight, moving with the controlled motion of her head as she bobs up and down.
Her nails scrape down the inside of my thigh, causing me to flinch forward, hitting the back of her throat. For a split second I worry it might be too much for her, until her watery eyes watch me through thick, dark lashes, and even when she’s noisily gagging on my dick, she looks smug. So I keep thrusting, deep and precise, as she hums happily, meeting every movement perfectly.
Don’t tell her you love her during a blow job, you fucking loser.
My entire body trembles. “Baby, I’m going to come.”
Her moan of approval sends a jolt through my body and she speeds up, sloppy, crazed movements, until an intense fire ignites in my blood, disintegrating my entire body.
“Fuckkkkk,” is the only word left in my vocabulary when I spill myself down her throat.
Dazed and slightly light-headed, I watch her sit up and clean up the corner of her mouth with her thumb, sucking it into her mouth. My stomach heaves as I struggle to come back down to earth. We have a lot of sex, but I’m always too desperate to be inside of her, but that…that was—
God. I might have to propose to her.
Tugging her body to mine, she lands on my chest with a squeak, before moving to my side with her leg draped across my stomach. I press my lips to her forehead, holding her close, then slap my hand down on her butt, eliciting another squeak.
“What was that for?”
“How many times did you ask ‘are we there yet?’ Hmm? Actions have consequences, Anastasia.”
“Is that so?”
“Yup,” I chirp, bringing my hand down again.
She maneuvers herself to be on her stomach and sticks her ass in the air a little, the shape of my hand glowing lightly. Her head twists to watch me, the same light pink flushing her cheeks. “Are we there yet, Nathan?”
ONE OF THOSE nice things about having the house to ourselves is being able to walk around naked.
I leave Anastasia sleeping peacefully in my bed, while I search the fridge for something to feed us. Taking an orange juice carton, I stand at the floor-to-ceiling kitchen window, overlooking the now-frozen lake at the back of the house.
The white goes for miles, bright and untouched, making it unclear where the lake ends, and the ground starts. I know, though; I know out there like the back of my hand. I’ve spent enough time on it, in it, around it over the years.
A warm body wraps around mine from behind, lips pressing in the center of my back affectionately. She steps around me, taking the juice carton and bringing it to her lips, leaning against my body while we both stare out.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispers.
“Not as beautiful as you.”
“You’re cheesy.”
“Maybe. But I’m not wrong.”
