Page 64 of The Mistletoe Trap
Gavin looped his fingers through the tiny strips at each of her hips and peeled off her panties. Then he knelt on the floor, his face so close to her center that she could feel every one of his breaths as they swept across her sensitive flesh.
One beat.
Two.
Then he put his mouth on her andASKLDJNFJLH. As soon as she returned to her body, she realized she was just lying on the bed, basking in the intoxicating sensations and not doing anything for Gavin.
She sat up so abruptly that he paused his ministrations, and her sex pulsed, cursing her out for stopping the fun.
“What’s wrong?” He placed his hand on her thigh. “If something’s not working, or you prefer another method, all you gotta do is let me know.”
“That method is the best I’ve ever experienced, hands down,” she said. “What should I do so it’s good for you too, though?”
“Here’s the thing, Jules. A real man is going to care about your pleasure as much as his—probably more. Sex isn’t a competition. It’s a team sport.”
She raked her fingers through his hair, separating the curls. “Were we supposed to start with a huddle, then?”
“That’s an orgy you’re thinking of,” he said with a smirk, and she tugged at the ends of his hair. Considering the groan, the move had been more of a reward than a punishment—looked like she wasn’t the only one in favor of hair pulling. His eyes fell closed, and his voice came out husky. “That.You can do that. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I was in the middle of something important.”
He hooked his hands in the crook of her knees and spread her wider, and then he dove in for round two. She continued to rake her fingers through his hair until a full-body tremor robbed her of autonomy over herself.
Haziness set in.
At some point she fell back on the bed. Every muscle tightened, some of which she swore were never taught in any of her anatomy classes. Gavin eased up on the pressure and slowed his tongue’s pace, keeping her at the precipice until every last inch of her had been consumed and conquered.
Then came the rapturous free fall.
Weightlessly plummeting and spinning and “Yes, yes,omigod yes,” she screamed as her orgasm rocketed through her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The bed dipped slightly as Gavin placed both of his palms on either side of her, his large body blocking out part of the overhead light. Considering his arousal, evident beneath the fabric of his boxer shorts, he’d enjoyed the show as much as Julie had enjoyed being the star.
Between that and the euphoric afterglow, summoning her inner vixen took relatively no effort. She sat up, snagged hold of his hand, and tugged him onto the bed.
Then she slung a leg over his waist, pushing herself up to straddle him. “I’d hate for your coach to call and yell at me for making you overexert yourself.” She patted his chest, marveling at the hard muscle and that this was actually happening. “You just lie back and let me run the show for a little while.”
“I gotta say, I do like the view from here.” He inched his large hands up her thighs. “I’ll do as instructed for that little while you mentioned, but…” He pressed his thumbs into the junction where her legs met her torso, and she nearly melted on top of him. “Fair warning, I’m more of a partaker than a spectator.”
Time to give as good as she got. She draped herself over his naked torso and sucked his lower lip into her mouth. Then she slid down until her still-throbbing bundle of nerves discovered his hard length. He arched his hips as she dragged herself over every steely inch, and they both groaned.
“Do you have a condom, or do I need to race across the hall for one?” she asked.
“It’s been a while since I checked my stash”—he dug his heels into the bed, scooting the both of them closer to the headboard and nightstand. He managed to open the drawer, but, since it left him at a funny angle and he couldn’t quite reach without tweaking his arm, Julie took over the search.
As she blindly fumbled around, she basked in the warmth of his skin, and the way his coarse chest hair tickled her sensitive nipples. She inhaled the woodsy moss and cedar scent of his cologne, and then her fingers finally found the requisite foil square.
It crackled as she ripped it open, and the impact of what they were about to do—of eradicating that final barrier—slammed into her.
Despite the hugeness of the situation, there wasn’t even an inkling of apprehension. This was Gavin, the guy she’d grown up with. Sure, he’d taken her shovel on the beach, and they’d had their fair share of arguments, especially as kids. But he’d also attended every one of her science fairs, listened to her ramble on and on about her job, and encouraged her to reach for her dreams.
If she’d taken more into consideration when she’d first hatched her harebrained idea, in all likelihood, she would’ve realized having a fling wasn’t what would or wouldn’t make her exciting. It wouldn’t necessarily mean better, hotter sex, either.
With anyone else there’d still be awkwardness and holding back, but all this time, what she’d really been missing was someone she trusted, cared about, and could confide in.
“You have to pull it out for it to work,” Gavin said.
“Some people say you don’t need a rubber if you’re going to pull out,” she teased, wiggling the package instead of removing the condom. “And by some people, I mean whiny jackholes who think all that matters is them and their pleasure. We’ve already established that’s not you, but—”
