Page 22 of An Undisputed Christmas
His fingertips traced every fold, every sensitive nerve, making me gasp and arch against the wooden wall.
“That’s my pretty pussy,” he murmured appreciatively, his voice dropping low and hungry. “Responding so well for me.”
He slid two thick digits inside me, and I cried out at the sudden fullness. The stretch was exquisite, my walls immediately clamping down around his fingers like they were trying to keep him there.
“You’re squeezing me,” he groaned, his thumb finding my swollen clit and rubbing with tight little circles. “Moan, princess. No one can hear us in here except the fire and the music."
The firelight played across his concentrated features as he worked me higher and higher, his fingers curling to hit that spot that always drove me insane.
The Christmas music provided a surreal soundtrack to my mounting pleasure, gentle and peaceful, while Jax systematically destroyed my ability to think.
My freed hands found his chest through the thermal fabric, desperate to touch him, to ground myself in his solid warmth.
I discovered his peaked nipples through the material and began circling them with evil intent, feeling him shudder at my touch.
"Fuck, Estelle,” he breathed, his rhythm faltering for just a moment. "You drive me insane when you do that."
I smiled evilly and pinched gently, rolling the sensitive buds between my fingers through the fabric. His hips jerked forward involuntarily, pressing his hard cock against my thigh with desperate need.
"I'm going to come," I warned breathlessly, my hips grinding against his talented fingers.
He added a third finger, stretching me wider while his thumb pressed firmly against my clit. The combination was overwhelming, and before I could prepare myself, I was falling apart.
My release crashed through me like warm honey, my inner walls fluttering and gripping his fingers as tremors coursed through every inch of my body.
I pressed my head back against the rough-hewn wood, whimpering his name while he guided me through each delicious aftershock.
"Beautiful," he praised, his voice thick with reverence as his free hand worked to free himself. The light caught the flushed tip of him as he sprang free, already glistening with need.
"Look how you glow in the firelight, princess. Like you were made for Christmas cock.”
Before the last echoes of pleasure had faded, he was positioning himself at my entrance, the broad head of him nudging against my oversensitive opening.
The scent of pine from the garland mixed with woodsmoke and our shared heat, creating an intoxicating blend that made my head spin.
"Ready for me?” he asked, though we both knew we were too desperate for each other. His breath ghosted warm against my ear, voice rough with barely leashed desire.
“Mmm yeah…” The words dissolved into a broken moan as he began to push inside, my tight flesh yielding to his patient invasion.
Every nerve was still singing from my first climax, making the stretch and fit of him filling me feel magnified.
My fingers clutched at his shoulders, seeking an anchor as my body accommodated his size while Christmas music drifted softly around us.
“So fucking tight,” he hissed, his own control evident in the tremor of his voice. "You're doing beautifully, letting me in.”
And I did. Despite the overwhelming sensation, my body welcomed him like coming home. My walls rippled and adjusted, learning his shape all over again while sparks of pleasure danced up my spine.
“Fuck, Estelle,” my name fell from his lips like a prayer as he finally seated himself fully inside me. "You're so goddamnhot—you're gripping me so warmly I can barely think."
His restraint was hanging by a thread, probably due to how cold it was outside versus Jax being inside me.
I could see it in the tension of his jaw, in the way his hands shook slightly where they gripped my hips, in the careful way he held himself still inside me while my body adjusted.
"Move," I whispered, nuzzling into the warm hollow of his throat where his pulse hammered wild and fast. “Make me feel good.”
The sound he made was pure male satisfaction as he began to move—slow withdrawals followed by deep thrusts that had me keening.
Each stroke dragged across nerve endings still hypersensitive from my first orgasm, creating a delicious friction that bordered on too much and not enough all at once.
