Page 58 of Daddies' Holiday Toy
My hands clutch at his shoulders, sliding down to his pecs before I fist the fabric of his shirt tight between my fingers.
He breaks the kiss just long enough to drag his mouth along my jaw, nipping lightly before finding that spot just below my ear to suck on.
My breath comes out in a shaky rush, my head tipping back to give him more access.
“Liam…” It’s barely a whisper, but it feels like it vibrates in the small space between us like a bullet to the chest.
His hand on my back slides lower over the swell of my ass.
His fingers flex there, gripping and using it to grind against me.
I can feel his cock, solid and undeniable, even through the barrier of denim and fabric.
Heat rushes to my cheeks, pooling low in my belly.
Oh, I want him so badly…
He kisses me again, slower this time, tasing every inch of my mouth.
The pressure is hard enough that my toes curl in my socks.
His fingers slip higher under my sweater, trailing lazy, possessive lines along my ribs until they reach the line of my bra.
“Shit,” he mutters, his voice rough and uneven.
Before I can think better of it, or talk myself into walking away before things get any messier, I’m sinking to my knees right in front of him.
His breath catches when he realizes what I’m doing.
My palms skim over his jeans and up the outside of his thighs until they rest at his hips. I tilt my head to look up at him through my lashes.
“Would this be enough of a payment?” I ask, teasing.
His jaw flexes as he stares down at me.
He doesn’t move, but his eyes stay locked on mine.
It’s not the expression I expect to see because there isn’t just lust darkening those deep green eyes. It’s something else too, something I can’t quite name.
Slowly, he reaches down, his fingers curling under my chin.
He tilts my face up, thumb brushing the edge of my jaw then moving to my mouth to part my lips and dip the tip of his thumb inside.
I swallow, my hands already finding his belt.
My fingers feel clumsy, driven by need, by how horny I am.
The leather slides loose, the metallic click of the buckle loud in the quiet kitchen.
I part the zipper and shove them down, just enough to pop him out, still straining against the line of his boxers.
When I glance up again, the hunger on his face steals my breath once again.
I work him free and let him spill into my palm.
He exhales a curse that jumbles together with half a groan. The sound goes straight between my legs, making me press them together.
He’s girthy, making it hard to wrap my fingers around him.
