Page 38 of An Undisputed Christmas
She melted against my burning chest, a soft gasp leaving her when my arms wrapped around her, telling me that she didn't want careful right now.
"Presents don't run from Santa, sweet girl," I growled against her ear, my voice rough with barely controlled desire.
Her response was a breathy whimper that went straight to my cock.
I could feel her trembling, whether from cold or arousal, I couldn't tell. Both, probably. Her body was like ice against my burning skin, but I could smell her arousal, sweet and musky and absolutely intoxicating.
"Connor," she whispered, my name a prayer on her lips.
The sound broke something inside me.
I carried her to the wooden picnic table that sat under the pine trees, dusted with fresh snow that sparkled like crystal.
I set her down so she stood in her boots on the table's edge, bringing her to the perfect height for her pussy to be level with my face—exactly where I wanted it.
My hands gripped her hips, thumbs brushing over the ribbons wound around her thighs.
The red satin was already coming loose from her run, and I could see how the cold had made her nipples peak beneath the sheer black lace of her bra.
“Naughty girl,” I breathed, drinking in every detail. "My naughty little present."
The anonymity of my ski mask added to the fantasy, making this feel wild and dangerous, completely removed from our everyday lives.
My fingers hooked over the edge of her panties, and I could see how soaked the fabric was.
The lace clung to every delicate fold, outlining her pussy in exquisite detail. She was flushed and glistening, her body betraying just how much this chase had affected her.
“Take it off,” she whispered, her hands finding my shoulders for balance. "Connor, please."
I didn't make her wait. With one sharp tug, the delicate lace tore away in my hands, leaving her completely exposed to my hungry gaze.
Fuck.She was dusky and soaked, her pussy lips dewy, dripping just for me. The cold air made her gasp and clench, muscles fluttering in ways that made my mouth water.
"So sweet,” I rumbled, unable to stop myself from tracing one finger along her slit.
She was scorching hot against my touch, silky wetness coating my fingertip as she whimpered above me. "So wet already. Did running from me turn you on, sweet girl?"
"Yes," she gasped, her hips rolling slightly against my hand. “It did.”
“Steady,” I commanded, gripping her hips to still her as I shoved my ski mask up to my nose with one hand.
Then I buried my face between her thighs without warning, my tongue finding her clit, and drawing a pretty little scream from her throat that echoed through the air.
She tasted addictive. I wanted to spend hours worshipping her with my mouth.
Her hands flew to my head, gripping through the ski mask as I worked her with lips and tongue. I licked every fold, every sensitivenerve, mapping her with the dedication of a man memorizing his most precious gift.
Her cries filled the crisp night air as I alternated between gentle licks and firm pressure, building her up slowly.
Snow continued to fall around us, dusting our joined bodies and melting from the heat we generated.
The contrast was mind-bending—her burning heat against my mouth, icy air biting at my back, the soft whisper of snowflakes landing on my shoulders.
I could feel Sierra getting closer, her thighs beginning to shake around my head, her breathing becoming more erratic.
When I sucked her clit between my lips and flicked it with my tongue, she came apart with a soft cry.
Her inner muscles clenched and pulsed against my tongue as waves of pleasure crashed over her. I caught every tremor, every drop, drinking in her release like a man dying of thirst.
