Page 100 of Christmas in Coconut Creek

Not a moment later the flimsy nylon on my hips was torn away from my body, ripping all the way down past my knees. Frankie shed the ruined fabric and tossed it away, then dipped down and bit a mark so intensely into my exposed inner thigh I yelped.

As quickly as the pain came it was soothed away by his tongue. He edged his nose up my leg further, pushing my dress above my hips, leaving me completely exposed save for the thin strip of damp fabric covering my center.

“You are so much dirtier than you let on, O, you can’t even hide it.” His finger slipped beneath my panties and pulled it away, then let it snap back into place, stinging my clit with pleasure. “Look at this mess.”

“Fuck me.” My elbows dug into the rug beneath me.

“I’m getting there,” he murmured, dipping his fingers back beneath the cotton and yanking it down fully. My hips jarred forward with the motion as his dark eyes settled between my legs.

A chill grazed me, immediately swallowed by the warm cup of his mouth on my intimate, bared skin for the very first time. I arched involuntarily toward the ceiling, my nipples straining against their confines. Heat blossomed so violently in my core I moaned out of sheer reflex.

“My god, you sound as good as you taste,” Frankie murmured against me. His tongue traced the bud of nerves at the peak, flicking it in slow circles. Every hair on my body stood on edge, pleasure radiating through my bones like heavy bass. “Spread your legs nice and wide for me, Trouble. Let me go a little crazy.”

I parted without question, letting my knees fall open around him. His mouth delved back down, this time tasting every inch on the way to my opening and plunging his thick tongue inside of me.

My fingers flung to his scalp, holding him tightly for support as my arms gave out and my spine hit the floor on a tortured groan. “Yes,” I praised. “Yes,yes.” I tightened like a spool, every muscle in my lower half suddenly with a mind of its own, contracting and relaxing with every single stroke of his tongue. He sucked and tugged at my clit, pinching it between his lips.

“I like that word.” His hand snaked up my body, pulling the neckline of my dress down to reveal the lacey cups of my bra. “Take your fucking tits out for me.” His voice was strained, the words muffled behind his teeth. “Christ, O, I can’t wait to feel this pussy for real.”

What was it about the filth that came out of this man’s mouth that dissolved me to liquid magma? I was so turned on I could count down the seconds to my orgasm.

Sweat beaded on my temples as I crisscrossed my arms over my torso and gripped the bundled fabric of my dress, arching my back to pull it directly over my head in one swift movement. My bra followed as I unclipped it eagerly and spread myself bare on the cashmere-colored carpet.

Frankie’s movements stalled, the fire in his eyes no longer just a reflection of the glass and flames behind my head. There was desperation so flagrantly on display I felt for a moment like the most powerful woman in the world. I was on my back but he was lying down before me, my satisfaction his only precedence.

He teased a finger inside of me, the familiar feeling of it making every lash of his tongue land tenfold. My hips buzzed and the tightening in my lower belly became unbearable.

“The way your body responds…” Frankie whispered. “It’s so fucking hot.” He pressed another finger inside me with the first and I gasped out a sharp moan as they curled in slow strokes, petting a spot that rendered me blind. Satisfaction floated from my mouth in a symphony. “Hi, beautiful.” He laughed sweetly, the sound branding itself in my core memories on impact. “There she is, there’s my girl.”

“Frankie, oh…God.” My thighs squeezed around him.

“Is it good, baby?”

My eyes got lost somewhere in the back of my head. “So…” I mumbled. “So…”

“Show me how good.”

His mouth found my clit again and I erupted in pleasure. My insides clamped down so violently I saw nothing but darkness for a moment before my vision returned, the tidal wave of an orgasm sucking every last breath of air from my lungs. My chest rose and fell in a chaotic rhythm as Frankie dragged the final spasms out with his fingers.

“Fuck yes.” He brought them to his mouth without missing a beat and tasted the evidence. I was immediately captivated again, humming for another moment like the one I’d just experienced.

I’d not even touched him, yet it was like we were on the same level of euphoria. Frankie’s pupils were dilated to eight balls, his hair askew, skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. He sat up on his knees and I ran greedy fingertips from the center of his chest to the trail of hair around his navel and didn’t stop there.

“I want this,” I murmured, tugging him by his open belt buckle.

We’d all but forgotten where we were—in the center of the living room floor in the dark. His calloused hands ran up my body from the tops of my thighs to the curve of my rib cage, skating over my nipples, then to my throat and back down as if he were reading me like braille.

“Take it,” he said firmly. Frankie reached into his back pocket and pulled free a condom, placing it in the valley between my breasts. “Take anything you fucking want from me.”

I wanted his time, his memories, his adoration, hisfuture.I wanted so many things from him, but more than anything in that moment, I wanted him buried inside of me. I wanted to feel him come apart.

I made quick work of his zipper, my hands lingering obsessively on the length straining against my palm. His trembling fingers joined mine, shoving his briefs down as I tugged, as if we couldn’t work fast enough. When he sprung free he sighed, as if it hurt him to have been caged for so long, and my mouth watered at the sight of his own desperation beading at the tip of his cock.

Frankie’s size was so impressive I spent a minute just exploring it with my hands, stacking my fists on top of one another around him, stroking it from base to head, rubbing his arousal in circles with my thumb. He jerked and huffed as the lower muscles in his abdomen stiffened and loosened, then repeated.

“I love watching you play, Trouble”—his voice was pinched—“but I’m about three good strokes away from painting you white.”

God.

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