Page 47 of Stolen Holidays

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“Not a chance in hell,” he growls.

“I’m not made of glass, you know?” I mumble, making Mason freeze mid-step.

“Is that what you think this is about?”

I bite my lips and shrug, unsure how to explain. Mason is a straight shooter, so I go with the truth. “Isn’t it? Since I started showing, you’ve been treating me like I’m going to break. I want my bossy-in-the-bedroom husband to ravish me.”

Instead of the bed, Mason steers us towards the couch. He takes a seat, keeping me in his arms. With his finger, he lifts my chin and turns my head, forcing me to look at him. “I’m sorry I’ve made you feel breakable. I love you so much I can’t help but worry that I might hurt you or our son.”

I cup his cheek, relishing the scrape of his scruff on my palm and the sheepish look on his handsome face. “I know you do. Just because I’m pregnant, it doesn’t mean we have to stop…” I don’t know how to finish the rest of my sentence without sounding like a horny ho-bag.

Mason lowers his voice and leans close. His breath fans across my lips as he speaks. “Fucking like it’s our last day on Earth? Like I can’t get enough of you? Like I want you to feel me long after I’ve come inside you?”

My heart rate spikes at his apt description of everything I want.

“Yes, exactly,” I say breathlessly. Hunger for my husband grows unbearable, and arousal gathers between my legs.

Mason pounces on me and crashes his mouth into mine. Our lips part, and our tongues clash. We lick and nip, pulling each other as close as we can as we kiss like the world might end.

I pull away, kissing a trail down Mason’s jaw, neck, chest, and stomach as I slide off his lap and onto my knees on the lush shag carpet. The small Christmas tree twinkles from its place between the sofa and the electric fireplace, casting the room in a warm glow.

“Emery,” Mason warns, his voice thick and rumbly with desire.

I slip my fingers into the waistband of his pajamas. He lifts his hips, and I tug them out from under him and down his legs. He kicks them to the side as my gaze narrows in on his perfect cock.

My mouth waters at the sight, and I lick my lips, ready to suck him off.

Mason leans over and yanks the string of lights off the mantle. “Arms behind your back.”

I immediately obey. The thought of being tied up by my husband makes my nipples harden and my pussy wet. Liquid arousal drips down my inner thighs as Mason gently wraps the cord around my wrists.

“Too tight?”

“No.” My heart races and my breaths come in quicker. Anticipation makes my skin prickly.

Mason scoots his ass to the edge of the couch, giving me and my stomach enough room to be comfortable while I’m on my knees. He leans back against the pillows with a smoldering grin that makes my clit pulse. “Go on then. Suck.”

I lean forward, and my hair falls around me like a curtain as I wrap my lips around the head of his cock. Mason smooths my hair back and wraps it around his fist, giving himself a clear view of his dick in my mouth. I slide down his shaft and suck. My spit pools in my mouth and drips down his length as his salty and masculine taste coats my tongue. Eyes closed, I hum in approval at his delicious and potent flavor.

“Look at me, Baby Doll.”

I obey, locking onto his dreamy orbs. His irises swirl with a heady mix of dominance and desire. I watch as his eyelids grow heavy. Without the use of my hands, my job gets harder, but I’m not one to back down from a challenge, and my goal is to get Mason to break.

I don’t just bob his cock; I undulate. Hollowing my cheeks, I alternate between sucking and massaging his dick with my tongue with each pass.

“Fuck, Em. It’s too much,” he grits out.

His rough whisky voice drives me to go faster, deeper. Mason’s control slips, and he starts to thrust his hips. The tip of his cock bumps the back of my throat, and in a surprise move, I relax my throat, letting him past the ring of muscle. My nose grazes his pelvis.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he shouts, ripping me off his cock with a pop.

I stare at his lipstick-covered cock and pout. “Why did you stop?”

“Because I’m not about to come down your pretty throat when I promised to fuck you hard enough that you’ll feel me all day.”

“Mmm,” I moan as I rub my thighs together, searching for friction to take the edge off.

Mason doesn’t miss my reaction and grinds his teeth, barely keeping his cool. “Stand up,” he grunts, the demanding tone I associate with sexual pleasure slipping out as easily as breathing.