Page 29 of Not Your Average Vixen
He grinned.
What was the point of underwear? It only got in the way.
She stared at him, and her greedy eyes devoured his reflection.
He took care of himself, and women liked the way he looked—that was a given. But he’d never gotten a rush out of a woman admiring his hard abs and muscled body until this little vixen showed up.
“Do you want me to take off my boots?” she asked, her voice a sexy rasp.
Buck naked in black high-heeled boots and lit only by the lights of the city; she was a goddess.
“They stay on, for now,” he answered, taking his cock into his hand as he gave it one hard stroke, then two as he drank in the scene.
She glanced over her shoulder. “Are you going to stare at me all night?”
He could. He most certainly could, but his cock was done waiting for this woman. He slipped a condom out of his pants pocket, tore it open with his teeth, then rolled the sheath down his hard length, already weeping with desire.
He came up behind her, and they locked eyes in the window’s reflection. She parted her lips and released a ragged breath as he slid his hands up the sides of her body before palming her ripe, round breasts.
She arched her back and pressed her ass against his cock, igniting a firestorm of desire. He leaned down and dropped a series of kisses on her bare shoulder before working his way to her earlobe.
“Everyone in this city will know that tonight, you are mine,” he whispered against the shell of her ear.
She pressed her hand against the glass, and he covered it with his own, entwining their fingers together. But she wasn’t here to only hold hands—and neither was he. Gripping her hip, he held her in place, lined up his cock, then thrust into her wet heat. He sucked in a sharp breath as he took it slow, stretching her, opening her, filling her to the hilt.
She cried out as her body inched forward, now pinned between him and the cool glass. The contrast between their heat and the window’s cold bite sent a frenzied zing through his body. He slipped his hand from her hip down between her thighs, feeling his cock enter her slick, tight center. He’d never basked in this moment. He liked a good, hard fuck. He didn’t slow down to savor the connection. It was like nothing he’d ever experienced. A mindfulness he’d never thought to employ.
Bridget squeezed his hand and rolled her hips, and a torrent of desire redirected his attention to his restless vixen.
“Soren, don’t tease me,” she whispered, raw need dripping from her plea.
“You need to know something about me,” he said, rocking his hand against her tight bundle of nerves.
She gasped. “What’s that?”
“I’m no tease,” he answered, pulling back then rocketing forward.
His cock slid in and out with punishingly delicious thrusts. She welcomed his hard length into her body’s tight embrace as the slap of skin on skin fused with the hum of the city below. The sounds and sensations twisted and tangled around him, heightening his arousal. Every thrust drove him higher. Every sigh, every moan, every heated breath intensified their connection.
And he couldn’t get enough.
Wanting more and desperate to touch her very soul, he changed the angle of penetration and caressed her with his hand as he pistoned his hips, making love to her with a desperate ferocity. Their bodies rubbed against the cool glass, and the opposing sensations, coupled with the slick slap of their bodies, had him ready to commit himself to unrestrained oblivion. The desire within him twisted into a coil, aching with the need to explode.
Bridget’s cries of passion rang out as her body gripped his cock in spasms of pleasure. She craned her neck, and his lips collided with hers in a frenzied kiss. He doubled his pace, and his body moved as if its sole purpose in life was to bring this woman unimaginable sexual gratification.
With her wild cries of passion urging him on, he joined her as a tidal wave roared through them, crashing and colliding in a storm of passion. He called out, repeating her name, unable to stop himself.
Bridget! Bridget!
Uninhibited and blissfully unrestrained, this was their night to forget the world, take unbridled passion by the reins, and ride that stallion all night long. Her body trembled beneath his, as the power of the pulsating rush receded, and they stilled as their audible breaths punctuated the silence.
She stared at the city, shrouded in a hazy holiday glow, hummed a sweet, satisfied sound, then tightened her grip on his hand—the hand that had remained laced with hers. She held him in place—a safe harbor offering refuge. He kissed her temple, and she leaned back, resting against him.
“Soren?”
Whatever she said next, whatever she’d asked for, it would be hers. Had she cast a spell on him, or was she a beautiful Christmas vixen, a gift from above sent to get him through the week?
“Yeah?”
