Page 185 of Going Viral for Christmas
I cock a brow. “Something wrong, Pembry?”
Soren leans back against the ornate chair, as if to give himself a better view—or to avoid prematurely climaxing on the spot.
“Wrong?” he echoes, laughing darkly. “No, Bells. I’ve just had this exact fantasy since I was sixteen and downloaded my first elf-ridden smut fic off a fan forum. And now you’re down there—looking exactly like a pervy holiday wet dream—and I swear to the stars, if you start speaking Elvish, I will marry you on the spot.”
I peer up at him, flushed and sultry, then tug on one of the elf ears as though I’m adjusting a crown. “And here I was thinking all your teenage fantasies involved swords and sorceresses.”
“Oh, they did,” he breathes, heavy with desire. “But none of them knelt.”
My grin is wide, wicked, and full of menace. “Well then,” I purr, my palms clutching his thighs. “Guess I’m about to make your fantasy canon.”
His hands grip the rounded ends of the chair. The groan that slips from that delicious mouth of his could sanctify this whole damn room.
I spread his legs wider. As I reach for his belt, he’s so hard and thick beneath the fabric of his pants, my pussy tingles from the feel of him.
Soren drags his bottom lip between his teeth as I undo the button. One slow pull. Then another. The zipper gives way with a softshhht.
His breathing shortens. The pulse in his neck is wild. My fingers slip under the waistband of his briefs, grazing the length of him, teasing the tip, making his whole body tense.
Soren mutters a curse as his head tips back briefly before locking eyes with me again, as if looking away will cause him to miss the whole show. “You’re going to kill me.”
“At least you’ll die happy.”
One hand threads into my hair, needing contact to stay grounded. “Bells…” He’s eager, ready, lifting his hips to help me as I pull down the waistband past his cock. Once it springs free, I dip my head and slowly lick up his shaft, pressing my tongue flat all the way to the tip, treating him as my own personal candy cane.
A groan rumbles from his chest. “Shit, Bells, Fuck, I love that.”
“Mmmm…but why nibble when I can devour?” My tongue traces circles around the head of his cock, savoring every twitch, before easing him down into my mouth until he’s pressed against the back of my throat.
Soren hisses, ragged and sharp, his fingers tightening in my hair as storm cloud eyes darken with small flashes of lightning. “Oh, baby, yes.”
My mouth works his cock in an unrelenting rhythm until Soren trembles beneath the weight of my tongue while my hand curls around the base, stroking him, each movement a promise, each pull meant to undo him,
“Fuck, Bells,” he growls.
I take my time, exploring him, lifting him with my hand anddragging my tongue along the thick veins standing out beneath his skin, teasing every inch with wicked care.
“You’re so good at that.”
Dipping lower, I flatten my tongue once again on the underside of his cock and lick all the way up to the tip. Wrapping around his crown, I take him deep.
His other hand clutches the armrest. “Deeper,” he demands. “You can take more. You want to, I know you do.”
The husky, desperate sounds spilling from him only make me crave the stretch of my lips, not because he’s demanding it, but because I want to give him everything.
His cock is obscenely rigid. It’s becoming impossible to take him all the way down my throat. I build a slow, unyielding pace, quickening as I swallow him with every pass. He’s tense beneath my touch, every muscle drawn tight. The rhythm building between us is faster, deeper, and the air itself feels heavy with hunger.
Soren’s hips buck, trying to stay in control, but his grip in my hair says otherwise. “Just like that, fuck yes—” His head tips back, groans pour out of him, rough and guttural. “You keep doing that, and I’m gonna come so hard you’ll taste me for days.”
That’s all the encouragement I need. I force myself down, farther, until he nearly steals my breath, the pressure burning and exquisite, my body caught between gagging and wanting more.
His breath saws out in ragged bursts, hips twitching beneath me, the grip in my hair tightens, then suddenly he tugs me back. He’s close.
“Fuck—no. Stop.” Soren’s voice is a rasp. “I need to be inside you, Bells.”
Lips wet and swollen, I pull back and look up at him. The expression on his face nearly undoes me. That raw, aching hunger. His restraint is barely hanging on by a thread.
Soren reaches for me, voice urgent. “Ride me.”
