Page 186 of Going Viral for Christmas
For a second, the words hang heavy and daring in the air. My breath quickens, heat sparking low in my belly. Slowly, I shift and rise, Soren’s hands skimming up my thighs as I do, the power of his gaze scorching every inch of skin.
As I straddle him, the hem of my dress rides up obscenely fast. Hishands are under it within seconds, gripping my hips and securing me in place. And when I settle on top of his lap, Soren’s mouth meets mine in a kiss that’s all tongue and teeth and power.
“Your heart is racing.” His lips move to my neck.
“Maybe I’m excited for the photo op.”
“Oh, you’ll get your photo op.”
Soren growls into my mouth, squeezing my hips so hard that bruises are inevitable. I welcome his mark.
“That pretty pussy better be ready for this cock, Bells—because the second you slide down on me, I’m not stopping until you’ve come—twice.”
The flash on the camera goes off. We both freeze.
“…Did it just?—?”
“Yep. Pretty sure that was frame one.”
“Make it stop,” I half laugh, half pant.
“Can’t. Booth’s analog. These are getting developed.” He bucks up, his eyes glittering with wicked promise. “Better make the rest worth it.”
My panties are gone in seconds. Ripped off and tossed away. So is my ability to form a rational thought. His cock is hard and perfect, and when I sink onto each inch by perfect fucking inch, we both break.
“Fuck, Ava.”
Soren’s hands seize my ass, guiding me, clamping me to him while I ride his cock fast, and so filthy deep it feels like my soul might explode.
I’m biting down on a moan when another flash goes off. I freeze, breath snagging in my throat, and glance over my shoulder.
Soren grips me tighter, thrusting up so hard the chair groans. “Good. I want it all. Every picture.” The bastard doesn’t stop moving. His cock spears me deeper until my eyes roll back.
I fist his shirt, gasping. “Stop—stop moving,” I say through gritted teeth, though my body betrays me, walls clenching around him, never wanting to let go. “You’re going to break the cha—oh, God—Soren?—”
His Santa hat falls from its perch on his head. “I don’t care if we break the space-time continuum. You feel too good.” Soren doesn’t let up, hips driving into me until I’m trembling.
Anotherflash. I halt.
“Stop worrying about the fucking camera, Bells. Let it see. Let the whole world know who makes you come like this.”
Another flash bursts, catching my parted lips and the choked sound clawing its way out of my throat.
“We’re absolutely going to jail,” I pant, riding him faster.
“Maybe–maybe not.” His grip tightens. “But we’re definitely going viral.”
Thirty-Four
SOREN
There are good nights. Great ones, even. And then there are the nights where your fantasy-hating, mayhem-bringing, mind-melting girlfriend puts on a pair of elf ears and ruins you for all other women—past, present, or theoretical.
Last night? Top. Fucking. Tier.
I’m not even entirely sure what happened after the photo booth. I remember grabbing the photos from the dispenser, the two of us nearly fucking again and again every five steps on the way to our suite, the click of the lock on our hotel room door, and the sultry way Ava bent over the minibar in stolen reindeer antlers and asked if I wanted to unwrap my Christmas gift early.
Reader, I did.
