Page 128 of Christmas in Coconut Creek

My thumb hooked through her thong, pulling it aside so I could see that throbbing pink mess she’d made, and my fingers slid dutifully inside her like dipping them straight into candle wax. Her walls constricted like a pulse around them. “So wet and perfect. You’re too good to me, O.”

She sounded strangled, chewing on a string of moans as I fucked her with my hand and opened her up. I couldn’t help myself—I licked her alongside the glide of my fingers, twirling her swollen clit around my tongue, sucking on it until she started to whine and the desperation in her voice made my cock feel like it was caged.

I rubbed something ridged and shallow inside her and her whole body pulled taut.

“Right there?”

“Yes.” She gasped out a confirmation that turned my grin wolfish.

Ruin her. Ruin her, so no one else can even come close.

“Remind me who makes you fucking come,” I said sternly, lifting my head just enough to watch her answer me between jagged breaths.

“You do.”

“No one else.”

Her head rocked lazily back and forth against the bed. “No.”

“Why is that, Ophelia?” My skin was on fire. I was ready to tear out of my clothes. Still I circled her clit with my thumb languidly, focusing every point of pressure into the stroke of my fingers inside of her.

She muttered out something unintelligible, still defiant and bratty and fighting me relentlessly so I reached up and pinched the peak of her nipple hard, sending a jolt of something painfully sensual through her. Ophelia’s eyes snapped open and her jaw relaxed, her mouth curving into a soft circle.

“Speak up, I need to hear it.”

“Because I’m yours.”

I turned my head and sunk my teeth into the inside of her thigh, purposefully sucking a dark mark to the surface that was framed like art by the indent of my canines when I finally let her go. “That’s my good fucking girl.”

Ophelia struggled against my fingers and my mouth, battling equal parts pain and rapture until I shoved my tongue back between her legs and she melted like ice.

“Fuck, I’m going to come,” she managed to cry out. Seconds later her thighs started shaking around my head, closing in on me like ear muffs as I lapped her from her twitching opening to the bead of her clit. “Pike…I’m…”

Pike.

I moaned against her pussy. My lips latched on and I devoured what felt like every last nerve in her body as it liquified onto my tongue. She came like an angel, writhing, whimpering, holding onto me like a solid anchor until she uncoiled from the high and deflated, satiated and sedative.

Unfortunately for her, I was quite the opposite, strung like a spool so tightly the wire was about to snap. “Sit up,” I instructed her. My belt jingled as I slid leather through it, completely loosening and opening the waist of my slacks. It was so quiet between us I could hear the teeth of my zipper falling apart. “Come over here now, and wrap those defiant fucking lips around my cock and suck it.”

I expected some amount of pushback, but she surprised me, folding underneath herself and onto all fours, dragging my pants down my hips eagerly, and watching me spring free right in front of her face. The release of that pressure felt good by itself, but then her tongue teased a hot, wet stripe up my entire shaft and I choked on the noise that came out of me.

I undressed fully as I grappled with the feeling of her entire mouth taking me to the base. That perfect tongue circling me, the back of her throat contracting on the head of my dick every time she swallowed.

“Choke on it for me.”

I fisted her hair into a ponytail, rocking her head back and forth to take more and more until my balls drew tight and I couldn’t waste another second not buried inside her.

Even as I dragged her up my body by her hair, reveling in the way she stopped and kissed every inch of my torso, leaving a trail of her mouth in her wake, igniting more than lust between us, it was pure fucking passion and affection. Despite me being rough, regardless of the wall of pain we were ignoring—or the reason we were even naked and sparring one another in the first place—there was so much respect tangled into this mess.

Ophelia kissed her way up my throat, to my chin, and I wretched her against my mouth in another hard lock of our lips that lasted heartbeats longer than I intended it to. Our bodies melded into one; I could feel her every breath like it echoed in my bones.

“I love kissing you,” I whispered against her lips, “but I really love fucking you, and I need it right now. I need to feel you from the inside, baby. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said.

“Are you still mad at me?”

“Furious.”

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