Page 47 of Festive Faking
My buzz from the bar had long worn off, but I was drunk on the way Mac made me feel. It was a high I would be chasing for the rest of my life.
When he pulled away, I whined, circling my arms around his neck to draw him back to me.
The throaty chuckle that rumbled from his chest had my toes curling inside my boots.
“Relax, honey. I’m gonna take good care of you. Promise.”
“Kiss me,” I begged, mindless for another taste of his lips.
His brown eyes darkened to almost black. “Don’t worry. There’s going to be lots of kissing.” He brought his mouth to my ear, his voice dropping an octave as he whispered, “Everywhere.”
Oh God. It was borderline embarrassing how my knees buckled and Mac had to jump into action to keep me upright.
“Easy there.” He eased me down until I was seated on the edge of the mattress. Kneeling before me, he smirked. “Guess I know exactly where to start.”
My head dropped back on a moan, and the insistent throbbing at my core became almost painful with how turned on I was. The vague mention of the sexual acts he wanted to perform on me was nearly enough to make me orgasm.
Just imagine what it’s going to feel like to actually experience his mouth making good on those promises.
A wave of heat washed over me, and my thighs squeezed together, my hips shifting as I sought relief.
Ripping my sweater over my head, I tossed it on the floor as Mac let out a deep groan. When I dared to peek at him, I found he’d brought a fist to his mouth and was biting down on it.
Empowered by his reaction, I reached behind my back, flicking the clasp on my bra and letting the lacy fabric fall away from my chest. I sighed when the cool air of the room hit my fevered skin and my nipples hardened into tight points.
“You’re a fucking dream, you know that?” Mac said reverently.
My fingertips grazed the button of my jeans, but a hand atop mine stopped me.
I tilted my head in question. Yes, I might be inexperienced, but I’d seen enough growing up on a breeding ranch to know that, for this to work, the pants needed to go.
“Let me,” he rasped, gently moving my hands to rest on the covers on either side of my hips.
Torturously slow, he fed the button through the loop, then dragged the zipper down. I lifted my hips, ready for him to drag the denim down my thighs, but he chided softly, “Stop trying to rush this. We have all night, and I intend to make the most of every second until the sun comes up.”
Yep, it was official. I was gonna die here tonight, either from anticipation or pleasure. The count was still out on which would be the cause.
Instead of removing my jeans, Mac dragged a finger down the crotch seam, applying more pressure when he reached a spot between my legs that had me gasping. I’d lost total control of my body, hips bucking without conscious thought, trying to gain more friction.
He hummed, eyes locking with mine. “You going to let me own this pussy? You going to let me be the first man to touch it, taste it, fuck it?”
Mouth going dry, my lips parted on a shaky exhale.
“Yes or no, Aspen. I need to hear you say it.”
“Yes.” The word was barely a whisper.
Mac must’ve heard it because he gave a firm nod before rising to his feet.
That’s when I realized he was still wearing his jacket. I was burning up, half naked, yet he was fully clothed.
I wondered if maybe it was different for guys, that they didn’t turn into a sweaty, achy mess when aroused, but I got my answer when he shucked the thick item of outerwear and wrenched his shirt off. His golden skin glistened in the low light offered by the bedside lamp we’d left on before heading out for the night.
My teeth dug into my lower lip hard, and my fingers twitched. The lean muscles of his chest and abs were taunting me. Looking at them wasn’t enough; I wanted to run my hands over every inch.
What are you waiting for? He told you in the truck that you could touch any part of him you wanted.
Rising on shaky legs, I stepped close enough that I could place my palms flat on his pecs, which were covered in the lightest smattering of dark hair. Then I moved lower, relishing the way his abs tensed as I grazed over them.
