Page 18 of Naughty & Nice
With my fingers curved around the nape of her neck, I pull her forward. My cock slides past her ruby lips and we both moan, jingle bells unable to drown us out. I pull her head down the length of me until her nose touches my pelvis and she makes a choking sound. I hold her there a moment, heat scorching up my back from the feel of her hot mouth wrapped around me.
“Good girl, sunshine,” I praise her, pulling back to let her breathe.
One of my hands fists her long hair at the base of her neck, the other wraps around her throat. Settling back into the velvet chair, I start to fuck her mouth. Slow, deep thrusts as her tongue works my length have me close to spilling down her throat.
Just as I am ready to come, I pull her off me with a pop. My cock is stained with her lipstick. I rub my thumb over her ruined makeup, her lips slick with saliva. Circling my cock with that saliva, I tell her to stand up.
“Now climb on my cock,” I reach out to grab the back of her thighs, already lifting her over me, “and ride it like you want to own it again,” I demand, slapping her ass as I settle her over my thighs.
I watch her line her slit up with my cock, my eyes scanning the streets behind her. It’s still early but I see families bustling by the display and hear music and laughter. The idea of being caught balls deep in her, seated in Santa’s chair, in the middle of North fucking Pole hasmy poleready to fill her with plenty of Christmas joy.
Gripping the high back of the massive chair, she slides down slowly, hissing out as I slowly fill her. I don’t care about a condom or birth control right now. As she bottoms out, her tight pussy wrapping snug around my cock, I can barely think let alone form important questions.
Bending her head, she touches her brow to mine. Then she starts moving. Slowly at first, whimpering with every slide of my cock in and out of her slick sex. My fingers grip her hips and I slam her down and lift her up when she goes too slow for me. I need to fuck her, to own her, inside and out until we forget about the five years we lost.
“Yes. Yes...it’s...I’m so full,” she moans, tossing her head back as I pump up into her as she bounces faster, harder.
“That’s it baby,” I grunt before I take her mouth in a brutal kiss, biting her lip, “do you want me to fill you up?”
“Yes! Fill me. I want it, baby. Come inside me.”
Gripping her hips, I slam her down once more as I do just that. I come so hard and so long the song playing blends into another. Still inside her, I fix her clothes and tell her to give me the important words she said earlier. I need to hear them again. I need to know she feels just the way I do.
“Say it again,” I demand.
Fisting her thick hair, I yank her head back, needing to see her eyes. She said it during her speech before. I happen to know she prepares speeches when she has something to say. I don’t want her speech or her preparations right now. I just want her truth.
“I love you. I love you, Oliver. I did then and I do now.”
“Hating you, because I tried, it didn’t work out for me. Loving you didn’t work either. My blueprint for love, I got it wrong. But Ican’thate you, sunshine. I think I much rather try getting the loving you part right. Nothing has changed for me. I loved you then, Josie, and I do now. I always will.”
Plans work for me on a build—but not for a relationship.
Forgetting my need for plans or blueprints may just be the Christmas Miracle we need to get this right.
