Page 60 of Mistletoe and Mayday
His hands grip my thighs tighter in response, and the slight pain grounds me, keeps me from floating away.
The table creaks beneath us as he works me higher, each stroke of his tongue against my clit deliberate and devastating.My hands fist in his hair, and he groans against me, the vibration sending shockwaves through my body.
“Please,” I whimper, not even sure what I’m begging for. More pressure, more friction, more time, more everything. He responds by sliding two fingers inside me while his tongue continues its relentless assault.
My back arches off the table as the pleasure builds, every nerve ending electrified. His fingers curl inside me again, and I cry out his name, my heel digging into his shoulder blade.
“Sebastian, I’m going to?—”
He hums against me, the vibration sending lightning through my body. His free hand grips my hip, holding me steady.
The dual sensation overwhelms me. My thighs tremble around his head as he curves his fingers just right, finding that spot that makes stars explode behind my eyelids.
I cry out, not caring if the wolves hear, not caring about anything except his mouth on me and his fingers inside me and the way he’s taking me apart piece by perfect piece.
The orgasm hits like an avalanche, white-hot pleasure crashing through me in waves. My fingers tighten in his hair as I come undone, his name a broken cry on my lips.
He works me through it, gentling his touch as I shudder and gasp. When I collapse back against the table, boneless and breathless, he presses a soft kiss to my inner thigh.
I tug at his hair, urging him up. His mouth finds mine, and I taste myself on his tongue. The kiss is messy and desperate, nothing like his usual controlled perfection.
His hands slide under my thighs, pulling me to the edge of the table. His hard cock presses against me through his pants, urgent and insistent.
“Need you,” I breathe against his lips. “Now.”
“Wait,” he pants against my neck, already pulling back. “I need to get the condom.”
“You don’t have to.” I grab his hips, keeping him close. “I have an IUD.”
He hesitates, searching my face. “Are you sure?”
“I trust you.” The words escape before I can overthink them. “I want to feel you. Just you.”
His eyes darken at that, pupils blown wide with desire. “Bailey...”
“Please.” I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer.
He fumbles with his zipper, cursing under his breath when it sticks. I laugh, but it transforms into a gasp as he finally frees himself and pushes inside me in one smooth thrust.
The table creaks beneath me as Sebastian sets a steady rhythm, each thrust driving me higher. His hands grip my hips, and I arch into the sensation.
“God, Bailey,” he groans, his perfect composure cracking. His hair falls in his face, damp with sweat, and I reach up to brush it back.
The tenderness of the gesture makes him falter, his hips stuttering against mine. Our eyes lock, his gaze intense and vulnerable in a way that makes my chest tight.
He drops his forehead to mine, breath hot against my lips. The position changes the angle, and I gasp as he hits that perfect spot inside me.
“There,” I breathe. “Right there.”
He picks up the pace, each thrust precise and devastating. My nails dig into his shoulders through his shirt—we didn’t even get undressed, too desperate for each other.
The pleasure builds again, faster this time. My whole bodytingles, every nerve ending alive and singing. Sebastian’s breathing grows ragged, his rhythm faltering.
“Come with me,” he whispers against my lips. “Please, Bailey.”
The raw need in his voice pushes me over the edge. I cry out his name as the orgasm crashes through me, waves of pleasure making my vision blur.
He follows right after, burying his face in my neck as he comes with a groan that sounds like surrender. His hips stutter against mine, drawing out our pleasure until we’re both gasping and trembling.
