Opening Scene

The faint, gentle glow of winter light slipped through the blinds, the kind of soft brightness that always made Christmas Day feel kinder than the world truly was. Nick’s apartment was a pocket of cold, the kind that reminded him he had forgotten to set the heater. Fool, he thought, breathing into his palms before pushing the blankets back.

He sat on the mattress edge, fighting the urge to crawl back under the duvet. He needed to go unnoticed; he needed to get dressed and get out the door. Holly would be up, already buzzing with that fierce, cheerful energy he secretly envied. She expected him in two hours for their ritual. He couldn’t be late.

He reached for his jeans, but his hand froze above the open dresser drawer.

It was cracked open an inch. He hadn’t left it that way. But the small, black sliver of space was enough to reveal the thing he’d tucked inside, folded meticulously between his socks, as if effort could lessen the quiet, aching guilt.

A pair of Holly’s soft pink panties, lacy at the edges. The pair he’d “accidentally” taken weeks ago. Holly hadn't mentioned it. Please, let her not have noticed. She was organized, yes, but he told himself she had too many cute pairs to track.

Nick swallowed. He reached in, his fingers brushing the cool lace before he lifted them out. They looked too delicate in his hands, thin fabric slipping through his fingertips like a secret straining to escape.

He didn’t put them on. He just held them. A slow, shameful warmth rose in his chest, hot and familiar. He shouldn’t have taken them. He knew that. However, the initial rush of softness, the silent thrill of the silky fabric against his skin. He hadn't been able to resist.

Nick’s breath hitched in his throat as the memory tugged, pulling him back to the first time he’d dared. He pushed the thought away before it could bloom. He folded the panties with painstaking slowness, placing them back exactly where they belonged, and closed the drawer with soft care.

The outfit Nick put on was a thick, comforting sweater Holly had given him and black jeans. He grabbed his coat, stepping into the cold hallway. An odd twist of nerves fluttered low in his stomach that was small, insistent, and inexplicable.

Holly loved Christmas. She loved him. He loved her. Just remember that.

An Unexpected Arrival

Holly peeked around the fridge, a wooden spoon still in her hand. A streak of flour ran across her cheek, a white mark of holiday battle.

“Hey, you,” she said, warm and utterly familiar. The sound hit Nick like the first sip of hot chocolate that was sweet, comforting, and addictively hers. “You made good time.”

Nick shrugged out of his coat, the soft pull of her kitchen and her presence already demanding his focus. “Couldn’t leave you in here unsupervised,” he said, stepping closer. “Last time you baked alone, we needed a priest for the smoke alarm.”

She let out a dramatic gasp, but the smile gave her away. She looks so good when she smiles. He felt like she was lit from inside. “That was one tray, Nick. One.”

The kitchen smelled of rosemary and butter, a rich, grounded aroma of home. Holly had already chopped, and a pan simmered, the atmosphere thick and cozy.

Nick didn't wait to be told. His hands reached for the apron. “Just point me at something.”

Holly tossed him the fabric, her gaze still on the stove. “Slice those potatoes. Thin. Even.” She shot him a quick, playful glance, heat flickering at the corner of her mouth. “Don’t make me fix them.”

He grinned. “You love bossing me around.”

“I do not boss you around,” she declared, stirring with the practiced ease of innocence.

Nick picked up the knife, testing its weight. “You had a clipboard last time.”

She brushed her hip against his to reach the salt. “That was for organization.”

“With sparkly stickers,” he murmured.

“They were festive,” she said, and he bit his tongue to stop a laugh.

The rhythm came easy. It always did. She seasoned, he chopped. She leaned past him for herbs, he stepped in behind her for a bowl. Their movements brushed and aligned, warm and accidental-but-not-accidental. Holly hummed, the sound soft and sweet. He loved that sound more than he would ever say.

“See? We make a good team,” she said, scattering rosemary into the pan.

“We always did,” Nick said before he could stop himself.

Her eyes met his. Steady, bright, they held for a beat too long. Just like mistletoe. Then she looked away with a small, almost shy smile that hit him right in the ribs.

“I’m checking those slices.” Her voice was light, but he caught the tiny, unmistakable edge of flirt.

Nick leaned closer, catching the scent of her lavender shampoo. “Check whatever you want.”

The room was suddenly too hot.

The Shift in Atmosphere

The rest of the cooking settled into their familiar holiday tempo. Nick chopped, stirred, fetched; Holly conducted the kitchen with precision and warm teasing. They bumped, they joked, they stole glances. Easy. Familiar. The quiet togetherness he secretly craved all year.

Soon the casserole was in the oven, pans rested, counters wiped down, save for a dusting of flour clinging to Holly’s forearm. She flicked it at him; he flicked some back; she threatened banishment. They were both laughing all the way.

As Holly tied back her hair, she said lightly, “Perfect timing… everything’s almost ready for later.”

It wasn’t the word she used. It was the tone. Soft, deliberate, almost expectant. Nick paused, that faint, unfamiliar tension settling low in his gut. Something about her felt different. Like she was waiting for a reaction to something he didn't know he'd caused.

She turned away to check the oven, but Nick watched her.

They moved into the dining room, arms full. Holly had laid out the glittery, familiar red-and-gold runner. Nick set down the plates while she adjusted the candles. He reached to help, but Holly stopped him with a gentle touch to his wrist.

“Hold on,” she said, smiling that soft way that tightened his chest. “I want it perfect this year.”

“You say that every year.”

“Yeah, but…” She paused, fingers lingering on the candle holder, then looked back at him. “This year’s different.”

There it was again. Layered, humming with something he couldn’t place.

Nick picked up the silverware, trying to shake the feeling off. “Different good?”

Her smile warmed. “Very good.” She stepped closer, brushing past him to straighten a napkin, her voice dipping. “I can’t wait for you to see what you got me.”

He blinked. “What did I get you?”

“Mhm.” She nudged him lightly with her shoulder, eyes bright and teasing. “You’re going to be surprised… and I think you’ll love it.”

Nick’s laugh wasn’t steady. Something fluttered under his ribs. He did not know if it was anticipation or dread. “I just hoped I picked something good, but you’re making it sound like I wrapped pure magic.”

Holly’s lips curved. Not playful. Softer. Knowing. Almost hungry?

“Oh, you did,” she murmured.

Nick stared at her, unsure why the back of his neck felt warm. She turned away again, humming. Nick stayed frozen for a heartbeat longer, that strange tension curling through him. What does she mean? Why so certain? Why does her smile look like she knows a secret I don’t?

He followed her to the living room, feeling like he was walking straight toward a moment Holly had planned long before he woke up.

Dinner slipped by in that dreamy holiday way. The food was perfect. The candles flickered. They talked, they laughed, they touched. It felt normal. Except for the hum beneath her smiles.

When Nick reached for his plate, Holly beat him to it.

“I’ve got it,” she said, already slipping her fingers around the dish edge.

“Oh, hey, no, I can help,” Nick said, rising.

She turned, giving him a slow smile over her shoulder. “You helped me cook. Let me spoil you a little.”

Spoil? That wasn’t her word. Before he could protest, she plucked the silverware from his hand, gently but firmly.

He followed her into the kitchen anyway. “Really, I can wash—”

Holly stepped into his space, nudging him back with her hip as she set the plate down. “Nope.” She held out her hand. “Give me that one too.”

Nick glanced at the extra fork. “You’re serious?”

“Very,” she said, tapping her fingers against his to claim it.

Her nails brushed his knuckles with a soft, slow, and deliberate touch. It set off a low warmth in his stomach. She saw that. Nick was sure she saw it.

She carried the rest of the dishes away, humming. When he stepped toward the sink to try rinsing something, she swiveled back around and gently pushed his chest with her fingertips.

“Nick,” she said, smiling like she was savoring something, “sit down. Relax. Let me take care of you.”

That line hit him hard. He tried to laugh it off. “Okay, now you’re freaking me out. Did I accidentally volunteer for something?”

She leaned in, her voice dropping, warm and velvety. “Maybe.”

His throat tightened.

She turned back to the sink, her hips swaying in a way he wasn’t convinced was accidental, rinsing plates with a soft grace that kept pulling his attention lower and lower.

Nick hovered at the doorway, heart thumping. Something is definitely going on. Something she’s enjoying. She kept glancing back with that secret smile. He had the feeling it wouldn’t stay a secret long.

When the dishes were done, Holly dried her hands and turned, that mysterious spark alive in her eyes. “Ready for presents?” she asked, voice soft and threaded with excitement.

Nick swallowed. The lights twinkled behind her. The air felt warmer, heavier. The whole apartment was leaning in. “Yeah,” he said, trying to sound normal. “Yeah. Let's do presents.”

Holly’s smile widened—anticipatory, mischievous, knowing. She took his hand, guiding him to the couch. The touch sent a tiny rush down his spine.

The Quiet Revelation

Holly reached for a box, but Nick gently caught her wrist.

“Wait,” he said.

“What?”

“I want you to open one of mine first.” His heart kicked faster. “Just trust me.”

Her face softened with surprise, warmth, and something deeper. “Okay,” she said softly. “Which one?”

He picked the poorly wrapped box. Holly accepted it with a fond smile, settling beside him, their knees touching. She peeled the paper carefully, almost ceremonially. Nick watched her fingers, her breath, the moment she opened the lid and lifted the small velvet box.

Her lips parted. A silver necklace, a delicate snowflake pendant set with a pale blue gemstone. Holly stared at it, then at him.

“Nick,” she whispered, the warmth in her voice hitting him like a soft blow. “It’s beautiful.”

He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly shy. “I thought… you know… you like winter stuff. I just hoped you’d like it.” Stupid, simple hope.

Her gaze softened into something molten. “Help me put it on?” she murmured.

He froze, startled by the intimacy. He nodded, fingers trembling as she turned her back and swept her hair aside. Lavender and warmth drifted over him. He clasped the necklace; the metal was cool against her skin. When she turned back, the snowflake glowed at the hollow of her throat.

She looked ethereal. She looked happy. Most of all, she looked at him like he’d given her something far more important than jewelry.

“I love it,” she said, voice low but steady.

Nick’s chest tightened with relief and a want that was almost painful. Holly placed her hand over his.

“Now,” she said, the mysterious spark returning, “I think it’s your turn.”

The air shifted, warm, thick, expectant. The part of the morning Holly had been waiting for was about to begin.

Holly slid a small, neatly wrapped gift toward him. White paper, tiny gold stars. Her fingers lingered on the box, almost savoring the moment.

“Open this one first,” she said, light but edged with that unplaceable tone.

Nick nodded, ignoring the odd flutter in his stomach. He pulled the ribbon and peeled the paper back. What was inside made his breath catch. Panties. They were pink, soft and lacy. Instantly, Nick knew. They were the pair he’d sworn he put back. The pair he’d worn once, guilty and trembling and aching for something he couldn’t name.

Nick froze. His mouth went dry. The world tilted. He couldn’t make a sound.

A soft laugh broke through the haze. Holly leaned in, elbow on her knee, looking at him with bright, wicked amusement.

“Oh no,” she said, feigning shock. “How on earth did those get in there?”

He stared at her, throat tight. She doesn’t look angry. She looks thrilled. That terrified him more than a shout. Before he could string a single thought together, Holly picked up a second box. Silver paper, deep purple bow.

“Here,” she murmured, handing it to him. “This one might make things clearer.”

Nick took it with shaking hands. It felt heavy. Holly watched without blinking, eyes bright, curious, and warm. He opened the second box.

Inside lay a matching set: panties and a bralette in a soft winter pattern. Delicate lace and silky fabric, meticulously folded. His skin heated. His chest squeezed tight.

Nick stared at the set, stunned. His heart climbed higher, racing in his ears. “Holly…” he managed, barely a whisper.

She scooted closer, her knee brushing his. Her smile softened, but not teasing now. It was gentle, tender, and warm enough to melt snow. “It’s okay,” she murmured. “Really.”

Nick swallowed hard, unable to comprehend the moment.

Holly reached out and curled her fingers under his chin, guiding his gaze up to hers. “I know, Nick.”

Three simple words. A truth he never expected to hear. A truth that hit him so hard his whole body went still. A slow, loving, and wicked all at once smile formed on her face.

“And I wanted you to have your own.”

He couldn’t trust his voice. Holly simply smiled and reached behind her for one more gift. A larger box, red satin ribbon.

She placed it gently in his hands. “Go on,” she murmured. “You’re doing really well.”

His fingers moved, pulling the ribbon, peeling the paper. The lid lifted with a soft whisper.

There it was. A feminine pajama set. Silky. Unmistakably soft and beautiful. The top stopped him cold: Santa-red satin, cut like a delicate blouse. Short sleeves, pearlescent buttons. A collar lined with soft white faux-fur. It was playful and festive. His heart twisted. The matching shorts were just as pretty: satin red, short enough to show thigh, edged in the same white trim.

Nick stared. His breath trembled out of him. “Holly… I…”

Holly eased closer, her knee nudging him, her presence warm and steady. She lifted the silky top, letting it spill over her fingers like liquid light.

“These,” she said softly, “are for you.”

Nick’s pulse stuttered. “But… they’re… they’re clearly…”

“Feminine?” she supplied gently. “Beautiful? Soft? A little playful?” Her smile deepened. “Exactly.”

He swallowed, dizzy.

Holly rested a hand over his, grounding him. “Nick, I’ve watched you light up around pretty things. Satin. Lace. My clothes.” Her fingers squeezed. “You deserve something that’s yours. Something you can enjoy without guilt.” Her voice dipped, intimate. “Something that makes you feel… good in your own skin.”

Warmth swelled in his chest.

Holly tilted her head, eyes soft and steady. “And this?” She lifted the silky Santa blouse between them. “This is just the beginning.”

Nick exhaled slowly, shakily. For the first time, it felt like he wasn’t hiding anymore.

The Reveal

Nick stood there with the soft red satin folded in his hands. His pulse was a warm, trembling flutter. Holly watched him with that impossible blend of mischief and affection. He wanted to savor the moment.

“Go on,” she said, her voice velvet-smooth. “Try them on.”

He blinked. “Right now?”

“Mm-hm.” She stepped closer, fingertips lightly on his wrist. “I want to see you in your gifts.”

He swallowed. “What about the other presents?”

Holly cut him off with a slow smile and a gentle tug of the fabric. “Nick…” Her voice dipped, warm enough to melt candlewax. “You’re the only gift I want tonight.” Then the command, irresistible. “Go change.”

Heat rushed through him. There was a shyness, thrill, the dizzy feeling of falling. Her tone was deliberate. It unfurled something he hadn’t realized he’d been holding tight.

“Okay,” he breathed.

She arched a brow, pleased.

He straightened a little, clutching the satin and lace. “Yes, Holly.” When she gave him that approving nod, his heart kicked hard. He turned and practically ran for the hallway.

Holly laughed softly behind him, warm and delighted, the sound following him to the bedroom. Nick shut the door, leaning against it for a half a heartbeat, smiling. His gifts waited. 

He wasn’t confused. He was excited. He set the pile on the bed. Holly’s laughter still warmed the air. Her confidence. Her certainty.

His hands shook only a little as he reached for the panties. Silky, feather-light, with a tiny bow. He slid off his jeans, his skin prickling with anticipation and a strange, tender vulnerability. When he pulled them up, the fabric hugged his hips in a way that made his breath catch.

Next, the bralette. A delicate snowflake motif. He slipped it over his head. The elastic settled smoothly around his chest, a soft, constant reminder of itself.

Cute. Feminine. Holiday-sweet and wicked. His heart thudded.

He eased the satin top over the bralette, the cool fabric warming to him. The hem brushed his waist. Then the shorts. Tiny, soft, trimmed in white faux fur. The silky layers whispered together.

Nick turned toward the mirror. For a second, he didn’t recognize himself.

A shy flush. The shape of the bralette beneath the top. The way the shorts framed his legs. Everything held him gently.

He didn’t feel embarrassed. He felt right. Complete, was the word that rose through him like a warm breath on a cold window.

Complete

Nick eased open the bedroom door, his pulse a fast, light drum beneath the bralette. Each step made the satin whisper.

Holly stood in the living room, tall, confident, wrapped in the soft glow of the tree. When she turned, her breath caught. Just once. Quiet enough that anyone else might’ve missed it. Nick didn’t.

She stepped toward him, slow and deliberate, her eyes sweeping over him with reverence. When he stopped in front of her, he had to tilt his chin up to meet her gaze. The dynamic hit him hard. His stomach fluttered, knees were unsteady, and his heart stretched wide.

Holly’s smile warmed into something soft and wicked at the edges. “Well,” she whispered, her voice low like velvet sliding off a shoulder, “look at you.”

Nick swallowed, lips parting, tugging lightly at the hem of his top.

Holly reached out, slow enough for him to shy away, and tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear. Her fingers lingered at his cheek.

“You’re pretty,” she said. It wasn't teasing. It was truth laid bare. “So, so pretty, Nick.”

The words hit him deep. They bloomed inside him, settling into the same place that had whispered completely in the mirror.

His breath came out shaky. “Holly…”

She leaned in just a little closer, her smile widening with affection and a hint of hunger. “I knew you’d look good,” she said, eyes drinking him in, “but I didn’t know you’d look this good.”

Holly closed the remaining inches. She kissed him. Slow at first, but with a certainty that made Nick’s knees soften. It carried intent, direction, and ownership wrapped in warmth.

Her hand slid to the back of his neck, guiding him, deepening the kiss. Her height let her angle over him just enough to make him feel small in a way that made his chest flutter. She tasted like mulled wine and confidence.

Then she stepped forward. Nick instinctively stepped back. Once. Twice. His shoulders hit the wall. Holly’s palm pressed lightly to his chest. The Christmas lights flickered across the red satin.

She kissed him again, no hesitation. She took the lead easily, hungrily, her tongue brushing his with a teasing command that left him breathless. Nick’s hands hovered at her waist, unsure.

Her hands explored him. They went down his sides, over the soft fabric of the top, tracing the line where the shorts hugged his hips. Every place she touched seemed to light its own spark. Nick trembled, the bralette brushing sensitively with each deepening breath.

A helpless sound escaped his throat that was quiet, needy, and completely unguarded.

Holly paused just long enough to smile against his mouth. “Oh,” she murmured, her lips brushing as she spoke, “I like that.”

Nick’s fingers curled into the back of her sweater, pulling her closer. His head tipped back as she kissed along his jaw, her breath warm, her presence overwhelming in the sweetest way. The soft moan that followed escaped him. Holly, hearing it, let out the faintest satisfied hum.

Her hands slid to his wrists, guiding him gently but firmly away from the wall. He followed with stumbling eagerness, his mind swimming in the dizzy sweetness of her dominance. She tugged him toward the couch with a slow, confident stride.

When they reached it, she gave his chest a single, decisive push. Nick dropped into the cushions with a soft gasp.

Holly followed by swinging a leg over him, settling in his lap with a heat and weight that caught his breath. Her thighs bracketed him. She looked down at him with a smile that was playful, wicked, and deeply affectionate.

Nick’s hands instinctively rose to her hips, but Holly caught his left wrist and guided it to rest on the couch beside him.

“Let me,” she whispered.

Her fingers moved to the buttons of his Santa-red satin top. One by one, she undid them, slow and deliberate. Nick’s breath hitched with each slip of fabric loosening against his chest. The bralette peeked through.

When the blouse finally fell open, Holly sat back slightly, admiring him.

“Oh, Nick…” Her voice warmed, softened. “This looks so good on you. So… right.”

The words hit him deep like something he didn’t know he was starving for.

Before he could answer, Holly leaned in, brushed her lips along his throat, and then bit firm enough to claim, soft enough to tease. Nick’s head snapped back against the couch, a trembling moan slipping free.

Holly smiled against his skin.

“There it is…” she murmured, her teeth grazing his neck again as her hands slid up his sides, exploring the shape of the bralette, the way it rose and fell with his shaking breaths.

Nick could only cling to her hips, his whole body alive with sensation, surrendering to her guidance.

Control

“Let me,” she whispered.

Her fingers moved to the buttons of his Santa-red satin top. One by one, she undid them, slow and deliberate, her gaze never leaving his face. Nick’s breath hitched with each slip of fabric loosening against his chest. The bralette peeked through. It was a soft, feminine thing that hugged him perfectly.

When the blouse finally fell open, Holly sat back slightly to admire him.

“Oh, Nick…” Her voice warmed, softened. “This looks so good on you. So… right.”

The words hit him deep like something he didn’t know he was starving for.

Before he could answer, Holly leaned in, brushed her lips along his throat, and then bit firm enough to claim, soft enough to tease. Nick’s head snapped back against the couch, a trembling moan slipping free of him without warning.

Holly smiled against his skin.

“There it is…” she murmured, her teeth grazing his neck again as her hands slid up his sides, fingers exploring the shape of the bralette, the way it rose and fell with his shaking breaths.

Nick could only cling to her hips, his whole body alive with sensation, surrendering to her guidance as she took exactly what she wanted from him.

Holly shifted in Nick’s lap, and the movement dragged a soft, involuntary sound from his throat. The satin stretched over him, the bralette hugged him, the panties pressed against him in a way that made every inch of him feel seen, exposed and wanted.

Holly’s gaze tracked downward, and her smile sharpened with slow, delighted understanding. “Well…” she breathed, fingertips brushing the waistband of his shorts, “someone is very excited.”

Nick tried to say something but failed. His voice caught in his chest, trembling.

Holly cupped his cheek with one hand, guiding his face up to hers. “You don’t have to hide it,” she murmured. “Not from me. Especially not tonight.”

Her other hand smoothed down over the satin of his top, drifting lower, tracing the shape of his dick even through the delicate layers he wore. Every pass of her fingers made him twitch beneath her, breath stuttering, body reacting faster than he could think.

“Look at you…” she whispered, leaning in just enough that her lips brushed his ear. “All dressed up and desperate already.”

Nick shivered, grabbing at her hips as if he needed the anchor. Holly’s breath warmed the side of his neck, her words sinking into him with intoxicating precision.

“I love what this does to you,” she said. “I love how much you feel everything.”

Her fingers continued their slow, teasing exploration. It made Nick’s whole body burn. She kissed along his neck again, lips soft, then firmer, tasting the sound he made when she found the spot just below his jaw.

“You’re perfect like this, Nick,” she murmured against his skin. “Absolutely perfect.”

His head fell back, his breath shaking, his hands clutching at her like she was the only real thing in the world. Holly was in full control. She smiled against his skin as she pressed closer.

“Let me take care of you,” she whispered. “All the way.”

Holly shifted in his lap. She reached down and pulled Nick’s hard dick out of his shorts. Nick could feel every slow, deliberate inch of himself enter her warm wet pussy. Her hands framed his face, her forehead nearly touching his. 

Her breath was warm as she whispered, “Relax for me, Nick.”

He tried. He really did. However, his whole body trembled with anticipation, nervousness, and want. Holly kissed him, soft but claiming, and his breath broke against her lips.

Then lowered herself onto his dick, slow and deliberate. Nick gasped. His fingers dug into her thighs without meaning to. Holly’s answering smile was wicked and tender at once.

“There it is…” she whispered, her lips brushing his ear. “That little sound I love.”

Holly rocked against him with a rhythm that made his breath come in shuddering waves, every motion sent a shock of pleasure through him. Every shift stole another helpless sound.

Holly kissed down his neck as she moved nipping, sucking gently, and marking him with affection disguised as hunger. Nick squirmed beneath her, overwhelmed, desperate, clinging to her like she was the only solid thing in a world going molten around him.

He didn’t know what to do with his hands, with his breath, with the way his body kept jolting in response to hers. Holly felt it all and laughed softly against his throat.

“Sweet boy,” she murmured, dragging her fingers across his chest, over the bralette that rose and fell with his pounding heartbeat. “You’re so cute when you fall apart.”

Nick whimpered and Holly’s nails traced lightly along his chest, teasing him through the fabric. He arched into her touch without thinking.

“Look at you,” she breathed against his lips. “So pretty. So easy to read. Every little reaction, I can feel all of them.”

She rolled her hips again slowly, claiming, and intimate. Nick’s head fell back with a trembling gasp. Holly caught his chin and brought his gaze back to hers.

“Let me see those eyes. Let me see how much you love this.”

Nick didn’t have words left, only breathless, broken sound. Holly kissed him deeply, riding him in a slow, controlled rhythm that kept him right on the edge of coherence while she explored his neck, his chest, his trembling breaths.

“You’re perfect,” she murmured, kissing him again. “So perfect for me.”

Holly slowed her rhythm until it became a steady, intoxicating sway, and designed not to push him over the edge. She wanted to keep him trembling on it. She kept Nick right where she wanted him: breathless, shaking, and open.

Nick clutched at her hips, his fingers desperate for something to hold on to. Every time he thought he could breathe, Holly did something; tilted her hips, dragged her nails across his chest, or kissed that sensitive spot beneath his jaw that made his whole body jolt.

“H-Holly…” he managed, barely a whisper.

She smiled like she’d been waiting for that exact crack in his voice. “You’re doing so well,” she murmured, brushing her thumb across his bottom lip. “I love how responsive you are.”

Her lips found his lips again while her hands explored him with greedy affection. She slipped her fingers beneath the edge of the open satin top, sliding along warm skin, tracing the shape of him as if memorizing every shiver.

Nick bucked beneath her, overwhelmed. Holly held him steady, guiding him with gentle pressure of her hips and hands, controlling every rhythm, every rise of heat.

“You feel amazing,” she breathed against his cheek. “I can feel how much you want this. How much you want me.”

Nick’s breath shuddered; his voice broke into a soft, helpless moan.

Holly kissed the sound right off his lips. “Good,” she whispered, her breath hot against his ear. “Let it out. I want all of it tonight.”

Her fingers slid through his hair. She tugged not harshly, but firm enough to pull another sound from deep in his throat. His whole body arched into her instinctively.

“That’s it…” Her voice dropped, warm and low. “Let me hear you.”

Nick had no defenses left. There was just pure, trembling surrender to the woman guiding him through every wave as Nick came. Holly felt it as he filled her with his cum.

“That’s it,” she whispered, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Let go for me.”

Her voice alone nearly undid him.

She held him through every trembling breath, every helpless sound, every wave crashing through his body. She never lets him drift, never letting him feel alone in the intensity. When he finally slumped back against the couch cushions, chest heaving, Holly stayed right where she was, cradling his face in her hands, kissing him softly now.

Aftermath

“Good boy,” she whispered against his lips, proud and warm. “You did so perfectly.”

She rested her forehead to his, her body still wrapped around his, her voice gentling into a murmur.

“I’ve got you,” she breathed. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Holly lingered in his lap. Then, with a slow, satisfied sigh, she shifted and slid gracefully off, settling beside him. The cushions dipped.

Nick’s breathing steadied. Holly brushed her fingers through his hair, smoothing it back, her touch soft, almost reverent.

“You were wonderful,” she murmured, pride glowing in her voice. “So good for me. So beautiful.”

Nick blushed, his entire body still humming from the closeness, the attention, the way she’d taken the lead so effortlessly. Holly watched his reaction with a slow smile, eyes half-lidded with affection and mischief.

Then she said it—light, sweet, casual: “Good girl, Nicole.”

Nick’s head snapped up. “H-Hol— wait, did you just—?”

She laughed, a bright, delighted sound, and waved her hand as if brushing something playful out of the air. “Mmh? Oh, don’t worry about it.”

Her expression shifted with practiced ease into something innocent, but her eyes were still sparkling with the wickedness underneath.

“Come on,” she said, patting his knee. “We should open the rest of the gifts before we get too cozy.”

Nick swallowed, still flustered, still glowing, and nodded. “Yeah. I— I’d love to.”

He fumbled for the satin blouse and began buttoning it again with shaky fingers. Holly watched every movement, her smile deepening as the silky fabric slid back into place over the bralette.

Before he could finish the last button, Holly caught his chin between her fingers. Just enough pressure to make him look up. Her thumb brushed the corner of his mouth, but she didn’t lean in for a kiss. She held him there for a beat, studying him with warm, hungry affection.

“We can play again later,” she whispered. Then she released his chin, leaned back with a lazy confidence, and added with a wink and a sinful little smile, “Nicole.”

Nick’s breath hitched. Holly just grinned.