Page 59 of My Rival for Christmas

“Your dream?” A dirty fucking smile takes over my face. More than intrigued. “Are you telling me, my little self-proclaimed rival, had a sex dream about me? Is that why I woke up with you curled around me this morning? How dirty was it?”

“You know what.” Paige’s glare isn’t as menacing when it’s clouded with yearning. “I changed my mind. I think I saw a removable showerhead in your bathroom last night, I’ll use that instead?—”

She tries to get off the bed, and I smack her ass before pushing her back down.

“My house, my orgasms, baby.” She’s not going anywhere near that room until I’m done with her. “You won’t be using a shower head here. My fingers, my mouth, or my cock, remember? Those are your options.”

“Still waiting for you to use your mouth on me,” Paige says, frustration fueling her words. “At least you’ll finally stop talking then.”

“If only you came up with this idea years ago.”

“Guess you’ll have to show me what a fool I was.” She snaps her fingers impatiently. “Get to work.”

“With pleasure.” I grab the hand she just snapped at me with, kissing her wrist before dragging my tongue along the thin vein that resides there. She sighs under the touch. “As soon as you tell me what I was doing in your dream. I want to make sure I’m being accurate to the source material.”

With every trace of my lips, swipe of my tongue, Paige’s glare starts to soften, but she still tries to level me a hard look as I bring my mouth to her shoulder, swirling my tongue in the hollow of her collarbone.

“Don’t make me regret telling you this,” she says. The sternness from her voice is missing.

“Regret? Never.” I pull back so she can see my face. The seriousness in my words. “But I’ll do my damnedest to make sure you’re more than thankful for sharing. You just have to tell me what to do,” I whisper the last sentence.

I want to make this good for her. Better than good. Earth-shattering, ruining her for all other men type good. Where she’ll feel me for days to come, haunted by the phantom of my touch.

“You were buried between my legs,” Paige starts as I feel my cock throb at that visual, very much wanting to do that.

Tucking her hands behind her head, I plant a kiss on her temple, tracing my lips down the curve of her cheek, letting it guide me to her lips, where I lick the freckles outlining them, before slipping my tongue into her mouth. Her hips buck into mine with a stuttered moan and quickly, I pull away.

Paige whimpers at the loss, but I kiss my way down her throat as my hands slip under her shirt.

“Sit up,” I tell her, yanking it over her head as she does. “Fuck.”

Paige looked good in my shirt, but nothing looks better than her out of it.

Bare, freckled skin. Pert, dusty nipples straining for my attention.

Beautiful.She’s so fucking beautiful, it actually kind of hurts a little.

I pull a hard nipple into my mouth, needing to steal a taste before my teeth twist the tight bud. Paige shoots up, her hands sinking into my hair, pushing me closer.

“Is this where you want my mouth, baby?” I lick over my teeth marks, savoring in the shiver it wrings from her body.

“N-no,” she breathes, her voice stuttering.

“What about here?” I swirl my tongue in the hollow between her breasts.

Paige’s nail dig into the back of my neck, her breath heavy as she shakes her head.

“Hmm.” I drag my lips down her stomach, tracing over her more prominent freckles, wishing I could introduce myself properly to all of them. “Here?” I trace the outline of her belly button, her stomach quivering under my tongue.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she cries, using both her hands to push my head further down her body. “You’re taking too long.”

I laugh. “Apologies, Princess.”

Except I’m not. Teasing Paige has always been my favorite pastime. This is only adding a new physical element I’ve never gotten to play in before. And since I don’t know if I’m ever going to get a chance to be in this position again, I’m going to commit every detail, every sound to my memory.

Savoring her to remember when I’m old and fat and wrinkly. I’ll forget everything, including my own name, before I forget a single thing about Paige.

“How can I make it up to you?” I ask, running my finger over the waistband of her sweats.

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