His Christmas Present (10 page)

But she wasn’t
nervous any longer. She wanted him so much that finally all her nerves and
worries had fled.

Keeping her eyes
locked on his, she raised herself up until the tip of his erection pressed
slightly into her. She let her lips brush his as she moved her hips, feeling
his swollen tip slide into her slick heat. His lips curved beneath hers as she
gave a few short, teasing rocks of her pelvis. And then she sank down onto him.

They both gasped. His
eyes widened, blazing into hers, and even though when he’d removed his clothes
she’d acknowledged how they’d both grown up, at that moment she remembered how
she’d felt about him all those years ago. Yes, he’d matured and his body had
grown, but deep down he was still the Dion she’d fallen for so heavily when she
was a teenager, the Dion she’d been so crazy about.

An urge to
pleasure him flooded, and she began to move on top of him, giving long, slow movements
of her pelvis while she plunged her tongue in and out of his mouth, mirroring
the movement of him inside her. He let her set the pace and played with her
breasts, stroked her back and thighs, kissed her until the hunger grew inside
her and her movements became more urgent.

At that point,
however, he held her hips, his lips forming a smile beneath hers. “Not yet,” he
murmured. And then, to her surprise, he tightened his arms about her and moved
to the edge of the chair before pushing himself up.

She squealed and
wrapped her legs around his waist, conscious of him still thick and hard inside
her. She tightened her internal muscles experimentally, giving a triumphant grin
when he groaned.

“Right,” he said
determinedly. He walked over to the wall and pressed her up against it with a
bump that made her gasp. Pressing close, he supported her beneath her butt with
his hands, but then remained unmoving, hovering his mouth over hers.

At first she
worried that he’d drop her and kept her legs tight, ankles locked behind his
back. But as he continued to hold her, waiting and watching, she gradually
relaxed, warmed by his intense gaze. Her thighs loosened and she softened
against him, and as she did so he moved his hips, pushing even further into
her.

She tipped her
head back against the wall, conscious of him all the way up inside, stretching
and filling her. The sensation of being impaled on him was amazing.

“Fuck,” she said
vehemently.

“Yeah.” He brushed
her lips with his. “That feels good.”

“Ah, Dion…”

He kissed her, but
still he refused to move, obviously enjoying the sensation of being buried inside
her, and she moaned and clutched her fingers in his hair, aching for fulfilment.
She tried to rock her hips, but she was pinned too tightly against him for
movement.

When he finally
lifted his head, she gave him a desperate look. “Dion, please.”

“Okay, honey.” He
lifted her off the wall and walked over to the bed. Holding her carefully, he climbed
onto the mattress and lowered her onto her back across the bed, still inside
her.

“Now then,” he
said silkily, taking her hands in his and pinning them above her head. “I know
you don’t want vanilla, but I’m going to show you that even missionary can be
fantastic when it’s done right.”

“Oh,” she
squeaked. This position was so different—suddenly he was in charge, and from
this angle he looked so much bigger than her, all broad shoulders and muscular
arms, a hundred percent male.

He held her gaze,
his eyes slightly amused and very intense. “I’m going to fuck you senseless
now. Get prepared.”

Holy cow.
How the hell did she prepare herself for
that?

Her heart raced as
he moved his hips and readied himself, and then he pulled back and thrust
forward firmly.

Megan gasped, but
it was too late to say anything because he crushed his lips to hers, and she
could only lie there as he began to pound into her energetically, pushing her a
little further across the bed with every thrust.

Her fingers flexed
in his, but he refused to release her, and the sensation of being completely at
his mercy was the most erotic thing she’d ever experienced in her life. It was
like what she’d seen Cody doing to the redhead except a hundred times hotter
and Dion was a thousand times sexier, and as he continued to thrust, she knew
that this was
real
sex, not the half-hearted, even slightly cold
couplings she’d had with her ex.

Pressure began to
build in her abdomen again, and Dion obviously sensed it because he released
her hands and pushed himself up, watching her with possessive, hungry eyes. The
back of her head brushed the edge of the mattress, and as everything tightened
around him and he thrust even harder, her head fell over the edge and she let
the orgasm sweep over her. He lowered his head and captured her nipple in his
mouth, and she swore violently as waves of pleasure rolled over her, arching
her back as he sucked hard and pulled the nipple to a tight peak.

And then, just as
the blissful ripples died down, Dion stilled and shuddered into her, and she
ran her hands up his arms, marvelling at the hardness of his muscles as he went
rigid and his hips jerked, and he gave a low, satisfied groan before lowering
himself on top of her.

They lay there
like that for a minute, Dion resting his forehead on her shoulder, Megan
gradually opening her eyes to look upside down at the chest of drawers on the
opposite wall. Eventually though she lifted her head and kissed his hair.

“Sorry to bother
you,” she whispered, “but the blood’s kind of rushing to my head.”

He laughed and
lifted up, withdrew from her and disposed of the condom, then pulled her over
to the pillows and underneath the covers with him.

She curled up
against him, heart still racing, and rested her chin on top of her arm as she
leaned on his chest.

He surveyed her
with a smile. “You okay?”

“Wow. Just…wow.”

He chuckled and
ran a finger down her cheek. “You enjoyed that?”

“Dion, that was
absolutely amazing.”

“I’m glad.”

“Jeez, I can’t
believe I did it wrong for so long! No wonder it’s so popular if
that’s
what it’s like all the time.”

“It’s not like
that all the time,” he said thoughtfully.

“No?”

He didn’t reply,
but drew her up against his side, so she cuddled up to him and kissed his neck.

“If you plan on
having any sleep tonight, you’d better start now,” he said.

She lifted her
head and raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Because after a
performance like that, Miss Green, I am absolutely going to make the most of
you while I have you, so don’t expect to sleep for more than an hour tonight
before we go again.”

She gasped and
pushed herself up. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely I am,
so stop talking and close your eyes.” He met her gaze, serious at first, then
gradually turning amused at the bewildered wonderment he must have seen in her
eyes. “What?”

“Thank you.” She
kissed him.

“For what?”

“For making me
feel…” Emotion overwhelmed her and she bit her lip. She was about to say
‘wanted’, but the word wouldn’t come.

He seemed to
understand though. “You’re welcome,” he murmured back.

She curled up
against him again. “Oh, merry Christmas by the way,” she whispered.

“Merry Christmas,”
he said back, and kissed her hair.

Christmas Present

Megan lifted
Harry’s seat out of the car, locked the door and carried him across to the
café. The December morning had dawned humid and warm, so it was a relief to
walk into the air-conditioned café, the smell of coffee and warm muffins making
her mouth water even as she walked through the door.

Dion was already
there, sitting at a table with a latte, looking out of the window at the
bustling town, but he turned as she approached. He stood, and her heart rate
increased at the sight of him in beige cargo shorts and one of the new tight-fitting
All Blacks rugby tops that showed off the sculpted muscles of his torso. Sean
had told her Dion had asked to go shopping to Whangarei the day before, the nearest
city an hour away, and he’d bought some more casual clothing. They suited
him—he looked younger, a little less awkward than he had the moment he’d walked
into Sean’s house, dressed like an Italian businessman on holiday.

She stomped on her
feelings, though, conscious of the fact that he wasn’t smiling, his eyes still
hard.
That bird’s long flown
, she told herself firmly. She had to take this
opportunity to repair the damage Sean had done with his surprise introduction,
nothing more.

It had been three
days since Dion had landed, three long days during which she’d spoken to Gaby
several times, who’d told her that Dion had been quiet and had done little more
than go fishing with Sean and sit on the deck watching the bay. Megan had begun
to fear he’d refuse to talk to her, but that morning he’d rung to ask whether
she’d meet him in town for a coffee. Neutral ground, she thought. Maybe that
wasn’t a bad thing.

She gave him a
brief smile, took the chair opposite him and placed Harry in his seat on the
floor.

“Thank you for
seeing me,” she said.

His face softened
at that. He stirred his latte slowly, watching the spoon draw patterns in the
foam on the top. “I’m sorry it’s taken this long. I needed a bit of time.”

“That’s okay. I
understand.”

A waitress came
up, and Megan ordered a fruit juice and a muffin, and Dion ordered a muffin too.
When the waitress walked away, Dion said, “I can’t believe you’re ordering
fruit juice. This coffee is fantastic.”

“I’m still
breastfeeding,” she said awkwardly. “Unfortunately I’m off caffeine for another
few months.”

“Oh, of course.”
The shutters came down over his face again. His gaze slid briefly to the baby
lying in his seat swatting occasionally at the mobile above his head, and then
his eyes moved back to her.

She cleared her
throat. “So you’ve been fishing, I understand. Catch anything good?”

“A few snapper.
It’s been a long while since I’ve been out on a boat. Mostly I lay on the roof
and dozed. Fucking jet lag.” His lips twisted wryly.

She smiled. His
face had caught the sun, the red skin already turning brown. She noticed that
his hair was ruffled too, not slicked back like it had been when he arrived.

“You look more
like Kiwi Dion now,” she teased.

He gave a small
smile and went back to stirring his coffee.

She looked out of
the window for a while. There were only three days to go until Christmas Day,
and the town heaved with shoppers. For a moment she wondered whether she should
buy him something. He would be there on Christmas Day, after all. But what the
hell should she get the father of her child who she hadn’t seen for a whole
year?

Harry murmured at
her feet, and she looked down and rocked his seat for a moment, passing him a
teething ring. He stuck it in his mouth and chewed. His first tooth would
probably appear soon, her mother had said. She’d told Megan that Harry might
get grumpy while teething, but so far the good-natured baby had shown no sign
of irritability.

A wave of love for
him swept over her. Her parents had been great, and Sean and Gaby had helped
out an awful lot, but most of the time it had just been her and Harry,
especially at night, sitting quietly in the chair in her bedroom at two a.m.
half dozing as she fed him. She knew she’d been lucky—they’d bonded
immediately, and he was a good baby, only crying when hungry or needing
changing, sleeping well, basically content. He’d fulfilled a need in her she
hadn’t even realised was there.

She raised her
eyes in time to see Dion watching them. His gaze met hers briefly before he looked
down and sipped his coffee, and sadness spread through her. How could she ever
mend this broken relationship? How could she convince Dion that his son was not
an enemy but someone who would return his love threefold, should he choose to
give it?

Dion looked out of
the window for a while. He still couldn’t get his head around the hot Christmas
thing. Sean had said the town would be packed with shoppers, but it was hardly
Oxford Street. Couples and kids ambled by, all dressed in shorts and T-shirts,
and nobody seemed stressed like they tended to be in England. His sister-in-law
was a nightmare at this time of year, endlessly drawing up menus, complaining
that nobody would help her and then complaining when they did, irate because
ordered presents hadn’t arrived, harassed because she insisted on making her
own cake and pudding and mince pies whilst also working full time and bringing
up two small children.

Here, the shops
played carols and sold cards with snow and robins, but all the doors were open
and the Santa who stood on the corner singing with a bunch of kids was dressed
in a vest, shorts and wellies—or gumboots as they called them here. He and Sean
had left Gaby in the house that morning singing away as she wrapped the kids’
presents. She’d told him Christmas dinner would to be a barbecue around the
pool at Sean and Megan’s parents’ house. Barbecue. For Christmas Day! He wanted
to go just to experience it once again. But he didn’t know whether he’d be welcome
at Megan’s father’s home.