AN: Thanks so much for all the reviews, favorites, and alerts for this story. This is one spicy ending, written per request for LoveMeThatsAllIAskofYou. I hope you—and everyone else reading—enjoys.

With that, I wish you all a very merry Christmas, my sweet Fanfiction Friends!

All my love,

KricketWilliams

Chapter 7

Warning: Strong Sexual Content

Penelope watched as understanding lit Derek's eyes. A bone deep, sizzling hunger was brewing in his eyes, so obvious it caused her to catch her breath. There was no brilliant smile, no teasing smirk, nothing that could be misconstrued or changed by her thinking. He was stripped raw, showing her bare lust, and it was a beautiful, thrilling thing.

"Oh angel," he whispered, pulling her closer into his embrace, "you just made me an incredibly happy man."

Sooner than she could respond, he brought his mouth down to hers, brushing his lips slowly, sensuously across them. The soft but firm texture of his lips and the hint of spicy nutmeg and heady rum on his breath sent shivers of awareness down her spine. She closed her eyes as he fitted his mouth to hers and began to truly kiss her.

Heat wafted over her that was far more intense than that from the fireplace. She opened her mouth to the gentle insistence of his tongue and gave as good as she got, tasting, delving, delighting in him. She really loved kissing him—had waited far, far too long to actually get into this.

He was by far the best kisser she had ever encountered. He kissed with sublime skill. There was no doubt, Derek was an expert, and sometimes, she felt jealous of the lucky women who had kissed him before. However, that jealousy went quickly when she reaped the rewards of his experience so greatly.

With that skill was enthusiasm, an excitement she could taste on his lips and feel in his touch. She knew he couldn't wait to have more of her, to do more of everything with her. He held her deftly, firmly, massaging with his hands and coaxing her.

It felt really, really good to be wanted!

As the kissing continued, her impatience rose. She was still wearing her jacket and her shoes, and he was also fully dressed. She wanted him ready, naked, and preferably on his back. That want was not one sided; she had just as much want and need inside of her, too. Lowering her hands to her chest, she began to unbutton her coat.

He paused in kissing her. "Oh, no," he said, holding her hands prisoner in his warm grasp. "I get to unwrap my gift."

She shot him a pointed looked. "Excuse me, mon choclat sucre…but I believe you stated you were my gift." Tugging her hand away, she raised it to his jacket zipper and held the fob between her fingers. "If there is any unwrapping done, it will be by me."

Derek smiled a wolfish grin at her and lowered his arms to his sides. "Do your worst, Baby Girl."

"Au contraire," she purred as she drew the zipper down. "I'm always at my best…"

"Oh, hell, yes," he groaned as she pushed the jacket off of his shoulders and let it fall to the ground, and then let her hands run over the bracing of muscle she could feel through the fine fabric of his shirt.

Her fingers were shaking by the time she made it to the buttons on his shirt. For seven years, she'd dreamed of touching him like this. She'd slathered suntan lotion on his back, felt the hills and valleys of his muscles there, and had questioned the appropriateness of her thoughts at that time. However, this was so much more intimate. Seeing his hooded eyes as he watched her slip her fingers into his shirt, watching the peaking of his flat brown nipples when she brushed her fingertips over them, and the way he sucked in his air when she trailed over his sculpted abs made it an experience she would never forget.

Tugging the shirt out of his waistband, she pulled it quickly off of his upper body to join his coat on the floor. Holy cow…he was gorgeous. Bathed in the glow of the firelight, his naked chest and arms were sculpted perfection, and the mocha hues in his skin burnished deeper, darker. She glanced at his pants. Soon…

She closed her eyes to regain her strength. She was breathing heavy, and the warmth and wetness was pooling between her legs. She was so turned on already, she thought she would die without him. She licked her suddenly dry lips and raised her gaze to meet his.

His expression was filled with tenderness and passion as he cupped her cheek in his hand and brushed his thumb over her cheekbone. "Don't quit on me now, sweetheart…"

She drew her bottom lip between her teeth and gave him a devilish grin that was probably at odds with her flushed cheeks. He always told her that's what he loved about her: naughty and nice, sugar and spice. There was no way she was going to quit, but first…

"Just a second," she said, and shrugged out of her jacket and heels. "I was overdressed."

"Yes, you were. Now keep going." He made a gesture of continuation with his hands and watched her aptly.

She giggled. "No, no…You first."

Penelope heard him gasp as she dropped to her knees and reached toward his lean waist. She undid his buckle for his low slung belt, and then went for his zipper, brushing her fingers against thick hardness under the fly. Curling her fingers around him, she traced his length through the denim, feeling how it curving upward and...

Her fingers faltered again. Oh, my...that was…mercy...

"You are killing me here, baby," he murmured, the urgency apparent in his voice.

Penelope drew down the zipper, opened the button, and then tugged down his jeans. The thickness between his legs strained against his boxer briefs; she cupped him, lifting the heavy weight, and heard a ragged breath from him.

She glanced up at him. His face was set in a rigid expression, his eyes darkened to nearly black and his nostrils flared. He was intently focused on her hands, and sweat was beading on the bridge of his nose. She noticed, too, that he was trembling like she was.

"Quite the present you got there, Hot Stuff," she teased, because if she didn't, she just wouldn't be her.

At his answering growl, she had to agree with him. Enough teasing. Hooking her fingers around the waist of his boxers, she tugged them down, and his erection sprang free, jutting out at her.

She didn't even get her fingers on him; he kicked his clothes out of the way. Bending forward, he put his hands under her arms and tugged her effortlessly to her feet, like she didn't weigh a pound. She hadn't a clue how he'd undone the fastenings, but a second later, her dress was gone, leaving her in only her bra and tights.

He scooped her up in his arms. "How many?" he growled, taking a stride toward the bed.

"How..." she questioned, and then figured it out. He was talking orgasms. "Two, please."

Sitting her on the edge of the big bed, he scoffed as he made short work of her bra. "That's a conservative estimate...oh, damn, baby...yes."

As he was sidetracked, staring at her newly naked breasts, she giggled and said, "How many do you think?"

"Six," he answered roughly, helping her lay back onto the bed. From his tone, he was dead serious. "One for each year I should've been giving these to you."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Oh..."

Her declaration was interrupted as he pulled both her tights and her panties off in a sweeping gesture. He joined her on the bed and gave her a scorching kiss that curled her hair and made her pant. At the same time, she was smiling. Inside, she was filled with bubbling joy, and it was bursting out everywhere, in her touches and her kisses. There was no doubt this man loved her, and—

Any further thought was whisked away as Derek ran his hand over her soft curls to cup her between her legs. She moaned, and then moaned again when he clamped his lips tenderly on her nipple. She was already so wet, his fingers had no resistance as they glided against the slick skin in between her lips.

Derek was a tease. He touched her everywhere but where she needed it; she found herself arching, rocking for relief. She felt the flirting touch of his fingertip in her opening, nowhere near deep enough, and then the lightest tap on her clit sent her into spasms of delight.

And then he changed breasts and angles with his hand, and she did it all over again...

Goodness, he was serious about that orgasm business. That would kill her in the long run. How would that look to the papers in Chicago: Woman Dies in Ecstasy? She'd never be able to face the Morgans again.

Now that she was thinking again, she tried to sit up a bit. "Ah...Hot Stuff? I really do not need six..."

His answering dark chuckle made her groan and giggle at the same time.

She closed her eyes. Might as well go along for the ride!

He slid down her body and kissed the triangle of curls he'd been touching a moment before. Penelope's eyes flew open, and she propped herself up on her elbows to get up as he moved between her legs. He spread her wider with his hands, focused on one thing.

She could feel herself blush again. Things came to her mind, wishing she had maybe shaved everything, thinking she might have needed a shower, but he eliminated that thinking with his next word...

"Beautiful," he whispered, parting her with his thumbs and opening her even more to his view. The look on his face, of heady intoxication knocked any silly thinking she might have had. She felt wicked, wanton for watching him as he watched her. He reigned a kiss on her inner thigh.

Penelope's head fell back on the pillows as he drove her insane with the push of his tongue, the gentle suction, the tickles of his beard. When he thrust his fingers inside her, she came over and over again.

"So damn beautiful," he growled huskily, kissing the pale flesh of her leg. "I need you so badly...How did I live without you?"

It came so clearly to her then: she hadn't lived. Not before him. She'd thought she'd known love, but she hadn't. He'd always filled her heart and her soul, just as surely as he now filled her body. He was magical, wonderful, and so giving. He was everything a lover should be, and all that she would ever want.

The ultimate gift of love.

When he finally rose above her, joining with her with one heavy slide, she felt tears spring to her eyes. She held him every way she possibly could. Her arms, her legs, even her swollen flesh clasped onto him, never wanting to let him go. They moved in unison, each word and thought gone as they worked toward mutual fulfillment.

She cried out one last time as the largest wave of pleasure washed over her, holding on as he continued his consummate pacing. Moments later, he gripped her hips, and with a final thrust, reached his own satisfaction.

The fire was dying down to embers and snow was falling outside, but it didn't matter to them. Moving to his side and continuing to his back, Derek held Penelope close to him, and then pulled up the comforter.

"Merry Christmas, Baby Girl," he murmured, kissing the top of her head, like he had thousands of times before.

She rested her cheek on his chest, in a spot so familiar to her. "Merry Christmas, Hot Stuff," she whispered, listening as the steady beat of his heart lulled her to sleep.

"The Christmas Spirit-Love-changes hearts and lives."-Pat Boone