I move as fast as humanly possible. Faster even. In a flash, I'm upright and my zipper is down. I don't dare do anything else to my jeans.

Blake kneels in front of me. "Ass up."

I do as I'm asked.

He pulls my jeans over my ass then down my thighs. He does it slowly, revealing one inch at a time.

An ache builds between my legs. I need him touching me properly. And I need to touch him. I only hope he can tell how desperate I am to feel all of him.

Finally, he pulls the jeans off my feet. His fingers trace his work, up my calves and thighs. They settle on my hips and tug at the sides of my panties.

These are a much sexier pair. Black lace boyshorts that make my ass look fantastic. Blake licks his lips, pleased. It takes everything I have not to pull off my sweater to show him the matching bra.

"Did you wear those for me?" he asks.

"Yes," I breathe. "In case it was too much. I wanted something that would grab your attention as quickly as possible."

His expression is heavy with lust. It worked. I can't say that I have any desire to brag.

I spread my legs, shifting closer to the edge of the couch.

Blake grabs my knees and holds me in place. "Patience."

His fingers trail up my thighs again. My breath picks up. My heart races. My body is not patient. It needs him touching me. It needs something to chase everything else away.

"Stand up." He pats the ground in front of the couch. "Feet here."

I shift off the couch. He's right in front of me, his head about two inches from my sex. My thighs clench in anticipation. Yes, please. I want that mouth on me.

He digs his hands into the flesh of my ass. Then his nails. The burst of pain calls all my attention. My concerns about holidays, my memories, my desperate fear of losing control— all of that fades away until there's nothing but his nails against my skin.

Blake grabs the sides of my panties. Slowly, he pulls them off my ass, down my thighs, all the way to my feet. His hands close around my ankles like he's warning me not to kick the underwear out of the way.

His breath is warm against my skin. I shake. I have to dig my hands into the outside of my hips to keep from moving.

He goes slow, tracing his way back up my leg. He brings his arm around my ass and uses it to push my body forward. It's almost impossible to keep my balance, especially with his breath sending shockwaves over my sex.

"Don't move," he says.

"But—"

"Not until you come."

He presses his lips against my pelvis. Then an inch below. Then his lips are against my clit.

Don't move? How the hell am I supposed to manage that? He slides between my legs and licks me from top to bottom.

It takes every ounce of attention to do anything but collapse. I press my calves against the front of the couch. It's the only way to keep my balance as Blake licks me.

His tongue is soft, wet, and so, so warm. Every flick of it sends a wave of pleasure through me. Usually, I'd grab his hair and clench my toes. Without an outlet, I go deep into the ecstasy. It's so intense that I lose track of the entire world.

All I know is Blake's tongue on me. It works magic, soft and flat then hard and pointed, fast and greedy then slow and patient. He moans into the inside of my thigh. He needs this as much as I do.

"Blake," I groan.

It urges him on. He brings his free hand to my thigh. It's two inches away. Then one.

His finger teases my sex.

I gasp. My knees buckle, but I manage to stay upright. If I move, he'll stop. I may not be bound, but I'm still at his mercy.

And God, how I love being at his mercy.

"Blake." It's a plea as much as anything.

It doesn't work. He runs his finger along me, making zig zags but not going inside me. His tongue slides over my clit, focusing in on just the right spot.

Pleasure bursts through me. It's hard to stay upright. I close my eyes to focus on the sensation. The pressure inside me is deep. A few more moments and I'll be at the edge. Then I'll be coming so hard I can't breathe.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. I need to be here, right in this moment, soaking in the feeling of Blake's soft tongue.

Heat builds between my legs with every lick. He brings his hand back to my sex, teasing mercilessly. I fight my desire to beg. He won't leave me without.

Just when I want it enough to scream, Blake slides his finger inside me. I sigh in relief. Yes. I need him inside me, even if it's his fingers and not his cock.

He brings his teeth to my thigh, nipping at my skin as he fucks me with his finger. I groan. I shake. I squeeze my fingertips together. Anything except moving out of this position.

He adds another finger. His teeth sink hard into my thigh.

It's too much. It feels too good. My knees buckle and I fall right back on the couch. So close to the edge but not quite there.

Blake's eyes are on fire. He pulls off his sweater and his t-shirt. I scan his body like it's the first time. Broad shoulders, strong chest, perfect abs, soft tuft of hair above his jeans.

My body is aching, desperate for release. "Blake," I groan. "Please."

"You're not coming yet." He digs his hand into my hair. "On your knees."

A spark ignites inside me. That's almost as good. Better even. I shift off the couch, on my knees in front of him, so I'm face to face with his crotch.

His hard cock is pressing against his jeans. I want to drag my fingers over it, but I have to wait. He's not taking this away from me.

"Unzip my jeans," he says.

I do.

"Do you want to touch me, Kat?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to suck my cock?"

"Yes."

He pushes his jeans off his hips. Then the boxers. I press my hands against my thighs to contain my desperate need to touch him. Not until he says.

He digs his hand into my hair and presses lightly, bringing me closer. My lips brush against him. I look up at him as if to ask permission. It's there, in his eyes.

I grab onto his hips, using them for leverage as I take him into my mouth. It's just as much of a release, pressing my tongue against him, sucking on his tip.

A low, deep groan escapes from his lips. It pushes me so, so close to the edge. I wrap one hand around him and stroke him as I take him deep.

I flick my tongue against his tip, teasing him the way he teases me. His touch gets rougher, desperate. He presses against the back of my head, urging me to go deeper.

I look up at him as I take him in. His eyes are still commanding but they're also filled with desire. His whole face is wrecked with desire, like he can barely control himself.

He tastes good and he feels better. I suck on him untilhis thighs clench. Until he's shaking.

Blake tugs hard at my hair, pulling me off him. He shakes like he's at the edge, like he's desperate for release.

"Turn around, hands on the top of the couch, knees on the cushion," he says.

I do it as quickly as possible. He brings his hands to my hips, positioning his body behind mine. His cock strains against my sex. I let out a deep sigh. His follows.

"Come with me." He slides inside me.

I gasp, digging my hands into the soft leather fabric of the couch. Blake moves fast. His nails are sharp against my hips as he pumps into me. It's hard and deep. Within moments, I'm at the edge. The pressure inside me is so intense I can barely contain myself.

My thighs shake. I groan. "Blake. I'm almost there."

He scrapes his nails against my skin. The burst of pain shoots through me, mixing with the ecstasy and forming a much more powerful combination. My body is desperate for release, like it's been waiting a million years, but I need another moment of this.

His hand comes down hard on my ass. Yes. There. He does it again, and again. The rush of pain pushes me forward, until my thighs are shaking.

I lose control of my breath. All I can do is embrace the sensations he's creating in me. A burst of pain. A rush of pleasure. A tension growing tighter and tighter.

There. I'm at the edge. I groan as I come, my sex spasming around his cock, pulling him closer.

He spanks me again—I went before him. I disobeyed his orders—but it only spurs me on. The pressure releases and builds up. I'm about to come again already. I sink my teeth into my lip, desperate to come with him this time.

Blake drags his nails over my back, from my neck all the way to my ass. He thrusts into me harder, deeper, faster. He groans, almost there.

I close my eyes, soaking in the feeling of him inside me, the pulsing in his cock as he gets closer to the edge. The pressure inside me builds to a crescendo. One more thrust, and he's there, pulsing and groaning. It pushes me into another orgasm.

Pleasure fills my body as I come down. It's harder, deeper, all the way to my toes.

Blake slides out. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me onto the couch next to him.

He strokes my hair as if he's asking feel better?

I nod. Much better.

* * *

After we catch our breath, Blake takes me to the bathroom and runs a bath. He strips off my sweater and tank top. His eyes go wide like he's taking me in. He clearly appreciates the bra, even if the matching panties are in the other room.

He traces the outline of the bra, then runs his fingers over the lace. The fabric strains against my nipple, filling me with a desperate desire. How can it be possible to want him so quickly?

"You wore this for me too?" he asks.

"I don't have any other fiancé to wear it for."

His lips curl into a smile. He runs his fingers over the bra, starting at the outline and working his way down the cups. I gasp when his fingers skim my nipples. The fabric is creating all sorts of delightful friction.

"Can you stay still this time?" he asks. "You'll hurt yourself if you slip on the tile."

I shake my head. "Still" is unlikely with the way he's touching me.

He grabs a towel and lays it on the floor. "On your back."

"But—"

"Do you want to come again?"

I nod.

"Then now."

I do as I'm asked. The towel provides little cushion against the hard tile, but I'm so keyed up I don't mind.

Blake lies next to me. "Arms above your head."

I raise my arms. He holds me in place just above my elbows. Then he presses his lips into mine. The kiss is long and deep. My arms struggle against his. He maintains control, pressing me hard against the tile floor.

He works his way down my neck and collarbone. To my chest. To just outside the edge of the bra. He pulls one cup down so my breast spills out. It's enough to make me gasp. His tongue flicks against my nipple, sending a wave of pleasure down my stomach. I've already felt so much, but I still want more. Am I greedy or blessed with a sex god for a fiancé?

He sucks on my nipples one at a time. It's hard but not enough to hurt. His free hand trails over my stomach and between my legs. No teasing this time. He slides his fingers over my clit, then inside me.

I go to tug at his hair. He holds me in place. It's different than being tied up, but I'm just as powerless. If I didn't trust him so deeply, I'd be terrified of the feeling of being overpowered.

But I do trust him, and that makes this so much better. He hooks his leg over my knees, increasing the force of his hold. My eyes flutter closed. I sigh, relaxing completely into his control.

I'm his. Utterly his.

He teases my nipples as he finger-fucks me. Every motion of his hand and every brush of his lips pushes me closer to the edge. I surrender to the sensation, so the only thing I can feel is the pleasure building between my legs.

His breath strains. I open my eyes to look at him, so I can see all the desire on his face. He's in control of his expressions but hints of want break through.

He doesn't have to ask. I hold his gaze, staring into him, the man who makes me feel so good I could die, the man who means everything to me.

A few more thrusts and an orgasm wells up inside me. I groan his name. Almost. His eyes close as he sucks on my nipple. The pressure of his mouth sends me over the edge. I come, pleasure pulsing through my body.

Blake releases me. He gets up to turn off the running water. Somehow, the tub is perfectly filled. Magic powers or just Blake? Sometimes it's hard to tell the difference.

* * *

We take a long, slow bath together. Blake washes and conditions my hair and rubs me down with a bottle of vanilla scented body wash. The only thing that can convince me to leave is my appetite.

It's well past a normal lunch time. We order Thai delivery then bake and decorate cookies while we wait. I make a mess of every bowl in the kitchen in my attempts to mix the perfect icing colors. It's worth it for the lovely shade of pink I make. I get to work on a star, painting it white then adorning it with cherry blossom petals. Not Christmas-themed, but I don't care. They make me think about Blake. They make me think about why this kind of thing matters.

Life is short and I want to spend it running to the beauty in the world instead of running away from the pain.

Blake is less creative in his decorations. He paints the snowmen white, the trees green, the stars blue. I add ornaments to his trees, scarves and hats to his snowmen, neat patterns to his stars. He watches me with affection.

Lunch tastes damn good. I eat my entire bowl of red curry shrimp and still have room for two sugar cookies. They're as good as the ones I made with my parents so many years ago. The memory still stings, but mostly it feels good.

I offer Blake his choice of Christmas movies, any movie in the entire world. He picks Die Hard, of course. What is with men and movies where things blow up?

It's entertaining enough. Better than watching The Matrix: Revolutions again. I have no doubt Lizzy will subject us to all seven hours of The Matrix Trilogy sometime in the next few days.

The movie isn't quite my scene. I rest my head in Blake's lap with every intention of staying awake. Just a few minutes with my eyes closed…

It's a few hours later when I wake. The sky is orange. Sunset. Blake isn't here, but there's a note on my phone.

Blake: Went to pick up Lizzy at the airport. We should be home by six. I'll order a pizza for dinner.

I smile. Blake and Lizzy don't see eye to eye on much, but they agree violently when it comes to two things: how amazing programming is and how much New York pizza blows California pizza out of the water.

I find my sketchbook in my purse and set myself up on the couch to draw. Something in the corner of the room catches my eyes. A flash of green.

It's the tree. It's up. And it's decorated with exactly three candy canes.

My heart melts.