The kitchen still smelled like garlic and caramelized onions when Michelle finally collapsed onto the couch, her limbs heavy with exhaustion. She’d spent the last six hours chopping, sautéing, and basting—determined to make this New Year’s Eve perfect. The spread on the counter was obscene: honey-glazed ham, truffle mac and cheese, a chocolate torte so rich it could probably fund a small country. But the second her head hit the throw pillow, her eyelids betrayed her, dragging shut like curtains at the end of a show.
She didn’t even hear Bryan come in.
The first thing she registered was warmth—his palm sliding up her thigh, slow and deliberate, like he was testing the temperature of bathwater. Then his breath, hot against the shell of her ear. “You’re not seriously passing out on me before midnight, are you?” His voice was a rough purr, the kind that made her skin prickle even when she was dead on her feet.
Michelle groaned, swatting half-heartedly at his hand. *“Five more minutes.”*
“Mmm. No.” His fingers hooked under the hem of her sweater, dragging it up just enough to expose the dip of her spine. The couch cushions shifted as he knelt beside her, his mouth pressing a searing line from her collarbone down to the waistband of her leggings. “You’ve been teasing me all night in these.” His teeth grazed the fabric, tugging just enough to make her gasp. “Cooking in my favorite sweater, bending over the oven like you didn’t know I was watching.”
She should’ve known better. Bryan had the patience of a saint—until he didn’t. And right now, the way his thumb was tracing lazy circles over the swell of her ass, he was very much not in a saintly mood.
Michelle arched into his touch, her body waking up faster than her brain. “I was busy,” she murmured, but the protest died when his other hand slid between her thighs, cupping her through the thin material. She was already damp, her body traitorously eager despite the exhaustion.
“Busy,” he echoed, his laugh dark. “Yeah. Busy driving me out of my fucking mind.”
Before she could retort, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her leggings and yanked—hard. The sound of fabric tearing was obscenely loud in the quiet apartment, followed by the cool rush of air against her bare skin. Michelle barely had time to process the loss of her pants before Bryan’s mouth was on her, his tongue dragging a slow, wet path up her inner thigh.
“Bryan—” His name came out breathless, her hips jerking when his teeth nipped at the sensitive skin just shy of where she ached.
“Shh.” His breath ghosted over her, hot and teasing. “Let me take care of you.”
And then his mouth was there, his tongue parting her with a single, deliberate stroke. Michelle’s back bowed off the couch, her fingers tangling in his hair as he worked her with a focus that was almost terrifying. He knew exactly how to curl his tongue, exactly where to press the flat of it to make her thighs tremble. The first orgasm hit her like a freight train, her cry swallowed by the hand he clamped over her mouth just in time to muffle the sound.
She was still riding the high when he stood, stripping off his shirt in one fluid motion. His body was all lean muscle and golden skin, the faint trail of hair below his navel leading her eyes straight to the thick length of him, already hard and flushed. Michelle licked her lips, her pulse still thrumming between her legs.
“On your knees,” he ordered, his voice rough.
She obeyed without hesitation, the couch cushions soft under her knees as she took him in her hand, stroking once, twice—just enough to make his breath hitch. Then she leaned in, her tongue flicking over the tip before she took him deep, her throat opening around him.
“Michelle—” His hands fisted in her hair, his hips rocking forward just enough to hit the back of her throat. She hollowed her cheeks, pulling back slow before taking him again, her fingers tightening around the base.
He didn’t last long. Not with the way she was working him, her free hand cupping his balls, rolling them gently between her fingers. His thighs tensed, his breath coming in sharp gasps before he pulled her off with a growl. “Enough.”
Before she could protest, he was flipping her onto her back, her legs draped over his shoulders. The first thrust made her see stars, her nails raking down his back as he set a punishing pace. The couch creaked beneath them, the sound mixing with the wet slap of skin and their ragged breathing.
“You’re mine,” he growled against her mouth, his teeth sinking into her bottom lip.“Say it.”
“Yours,” she gasped, her heels digging into his back. “Always—”
The words dissolved into a moan as his hand slipped between them, his thumb finding her clit. He rubbed in tight, relentless circles, his hips never faltering. Michelle could feel the coil tightening inside her, her body winding tighter and tighter—
And then the first firework exploded outside, the bright burst of light flashing through the windows.
Bryan groaned, his rhythm stuttering as her walls clenched around him. *“Come on, baby. Now.”*
She shattered.
Pleasure ripped through her, her back arching as her orgasm crashed over her in waves. Bryan followed with a guttural curse, his release spilling deep inside her as another firework lit up the sky, then another—each burst of color matching the pulses of his cock.
They collapsed together, a tangle of limbs and ragged breaths, the couch barely big enough to hold them. Michelle’s heart hammered against his, her skin slick with sweat.
Bryan pressed a kiss to her temple, his lips curved against her skin. *“Happy New Year, baby.”*
She laughed, breathless and boneless. “Best one yet.”