Page 96 of Mistletoe and Mayday
“Come here,” she demands, voice rough with pleasure.
I kiss her thigh before moving up her body, dropping kisses on her stomach, between her breasts, along her collarbone.When I reach her mouth, she kisses me, tasting herself on my lips.
“I need you inside me,” she says against my mouth. “Now.”
I’ve never been able to deny her anything when she looks at me like that. I stand to remove my remaining clothes, aware of her hungry gaze following every movement. When I’m as naked as she is, I rejoin her on the bed, covering her body with mine.
“Condom?” I ask, already reaching for my discarded pants.
Her hand on my wrist stops me. “I haven’t been with anyone else.”
“Me either,” I manage, already positioning myself between her thighs.
She wraps her legs around my waist, urging me closer. “Then stop overthinking and fuck me already, Mr. Perfect.”
I enter her in one smooth stroke, and we both groan at the sensation. Without a barrier between us, I can feel everything—every pulse, every ridge, every clench of her body around mine. It’s overwhelming in the best possible way.
“Fuck,” I breathe against her neck, holding still to maintain some semblance of control. “You feel incredible.”
“Move,” she commands, nails digging into my shoulders.
I establish a rhythm that has us both panting, withdrawing almost completely before driving back in deep. She meets me thrust for thrust, her hips rising to take medeeper still.
“Harder,” she demands, and I comply, pounding into her with near-desperate intensity.
The room fills with our sounds—skin against skin, breathless moans, the obscene wet sounds of our bodies joining. I shift, hitting her at a new angle that makes her cry out.
“There!” she gasps, eyes flying open to lock with mine. “Right there!”
I maintain the angle, driving into her with precision that makes her whimper with each thrust. “Like this?” I growl, my control slipping further with each slick slide into her heat.
“Yes,” she pants, her nails carving paths down my back. “God, Sebastian, you feel so good.”
I wrap my fingers around her wrists, pinning them above her head with one hand. “Tell me how good,” I demand, slowing my pace to make her feel every inch as I withdraw and push back in. “Tell me what I do to you.”
“You fill me perfectly,” she manages between gasps. “Like you were made for me.”
“I am,” I tell her, meaning it more than she knows. “We were made for each other.”
I hook my arm under her knee, opening her further, driving deeper. The change in angle has her crying out with each thrust, her head thrashing against the pillow.
“Did you think about this?” I ask, my voice rough with exertion and need. “When we were apart? Did you touch yourself and think of me?”
“Yes,” she admits, her inner walls clenching around me at the confession. “Almost every night.”
The image of her pleasuring herself to thoughts of me nearly undoes my control. “Show me,” I command, slipping my hand between us to circle her clit. “Show me how you touched yourself.”
Her hand joins mine, fingers moving in tight circles over her swollen flesh. The sight of her pleasuring herself while I thrust inside her is the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen.
“Sebastian,” she moans, her movements growing more frantic. “I’m close.”
“Let go,” I growl, driving into her hard and deep. “Let me feel you.”
Her body tenses, back arching as her orgasm crashes through her. The pulsing of her inner walls around my cock is too much to resist. I bury my face in her neck, my rhythm faltering as my own release tears through me. I spill inside her with a groan of her name, feeling her milk every drop from me.
We collapse together, breathing hard, bodies slick with sweat. I roll to the side to avoid crushing her, but keep her close, unwilling to break contact.
“That was...” she begins, then laughs. “I have no words. Which, as you know, is basically unprecedented.”
