Page 93 of 'Tis the season of Wicked Deeds

Half an hour later, I have to commend Kingston’s patience in teaching me. I would just rather watch him. It’s far more fun.

“I’m rethinking this skiing idea,” I grumble, after falling on my ass twice because I can’t seem to put on the brakes. The third time Kingston had to swoop in and stop my fall. My poles are defective, I swear. “I have a better one. How about we build a snowman and have a snowball fight, hmm?”

He gives me an amused look, pulling me closer by the waist.

I crane my neck to maintain eye contact.

“How tall are you?” I blurt out.

Raising one brow, he sates my curiosity. “Six-five.”

Jesus. No wonder he’s blessed with a mega cock.

“Why do you ask?”

“Just intrigued.”

“You’re too cute sometimes.” Kissing my lips, he murmurs, “So, snowman?”

I grin like a kid and eagerly nod. Even the snow here feels different and special.

The rest of the day flies as we laugh and have fun in the snow. By the time we have to return, I’m so exhausted that I drift in and out of sleep.

I don’t even remember how we made it to the cabin in the evening. All I have is the hazy memory of a warm blanket being drawn over my body and the softest kiss on my forehead with the ghost of a finger on my cheek.

CHAPTER – 26

Twinkle

Knuckles softly tracing up and down my spine stirs me awake.

It’s midnight when I open my blurry eyes and look at my surroundings. Everything in my room is as is. Warm, cozy, and beautiful. Suddenly, a sensation—rough, familiar fingers—crawls up my back again and I peer over my shoulder.

Dark eyes—laced with dangerous intentions—collide with mine.

“Daddy?”

Those same fingers brush my long hair from my face and over my shoulder. They slowly journey lower and curl around my hip bone, gripping it possessively.

The contact against my naked skin jolts me.

That’s when I notice he’s taken off my panties and I’m nude from the waist down. I’m only in my see-through camisole with thin straps, one falling down my shoulder so low that my right breast is bare. Or maybe it was pulled out judging by thetop bunched under it. The dark pink tip is hard and poking, begging for attention.

Like fingers twisting.

Mouth sucking.

Wet tongue swirling.

Kingston’s piercing gaze drifts to it, and he licks his lips hungrily.

Shifting until he’s flush against my back, he studies it under the moonlight filtering in through the floor-to-ceiling glass window. Neither of us whispers a word as his warm breath blows on my arm, teasing and taunting me. He stares so intently at the breast spilling over my camisole’s neckline that my nipple hardens even more.

I arch my chest in a silent invitation.

I shouldn’t.

It’s wrong.

---