Page 27 of The Billionaire's Naughty List

How did I not know this?

This side of her is temptation personified. She keeps glancing at me, just quick looks, like she’s checking in. Her gaze follows my hand where I stroke my cock through my jeans. It’s not enough. Not nearly enough.

“I can’t resist anymore,” she purrs and I swear to all the gods that I almost come. Right here in the kitchen, in my jeans like a randy farm hand. “These smell so good. Sugary with hints of vanilla. So very Christmas.”

She picks up the Santa cookie. “I know the frosting needs to dry, but if you don’t tell, I won’t.”

Fuck. Me.

She flashes it to the camera, giving us a quick glimpse of red, white, and tiny black eyes.

Then she lifts it to her lips and takes a bite, moaning. I shove a fist into my mouth and bite down. My pulse fires through my veins, pumping hard. I’m so damned turned on right now.

As she pulls the cookie away, a ribbon of the wet frosting clings to her lip and then drips down over the top of her breast. I shove out of the chair and stalk forward a step. But I stop when her gaze meets mine.

“Oops.”

Oops? Did she just oops me? God, she looks so innocent, but there’s mischief in those brown eyes.

She gives an exaggerated swipe of her tongue over her top lip, gathering the red frosting, pulling it inside. My cock bobs, eager. Worse. Needy. How is it possible to have this much sex and still want more? To need more?

She moans again. “So good.”

After cleaning her bottom lip, she gives a sad smile. “I’m sorry you guys can’t taste this. Just use your imagination.”

Oh kitten. Their imagination is firing on all cylinders right now, I promise you that.

I grab my cock again, molding my hand around the length, staving off the fire. She’s not even touching me and I ache. Heat scorches the back of my neck. Am I sweating? I think I’m sweating.

Her red nail polish flashes beneath the warm overhead lighting. She starts at the end of the string of frosting. Atop her right breast. Then, so slowly it’s almost painful, she swipes up the strand of sugar before sucking her finger between her lips.

I close my eyes again because it’s too much. Sensory overload. The setting, the twinkling Christmas lights in the corner of my eye, the delicious scents in the air. And her. In the middle of everything, teasing and tempting me.

Doing it so willfully.

And knowing…knowing there are men around the world probably yanking one out because of her. For some reason, I don’t care. Which is shocking, because I really wasn’t sure how I was going to feel watching her talk to and tease other men.

But she’s a natural. Such a people person.

“Mmm...I have a surprise for everyone.” My eyes pop open. A scrap of red dangles from her fingertips.

My brain screeches to a halt. Are those her panties?

“You guys liked that little white mask so much last week, I found a red one. Isn’t it pretty?”

A mask.Oh. Okay.

I exhale. But my heart continues to thunder like a runaway Thoroughbred.

She takes both sides and presses it to her face, securing a red ribbon behind her head. “It’s getting late,” she murmurs. “Any final?—”

Her lips curve, and she steps back. “Here you go. The whole outfit.”

Pinching the hem of the skirt between her fingers, she flairs it out and does a little twirl. The satiny fabric looks amazingly soft and shimmers in the light. It makes me want to drop to my knees, grab her by the hips and nuzzle her belly.

“I’ve still got cleanup to do, yes. A Claus’s work is never done.” She smirks and huffs a little laugh. Leaning forward,toward her tablet, she catches up on the comments, giving everyone another glimpse at the girls.

I grab the edge of the countertop for strength and support.

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