Page 95 of Mistletoe and Mayday
My breath catches as she strokes me with just the right pressure. “Are you really quoting investment disclaimers during foreplay?”
“Just keeping you on your toes,” she says with a wicked grin, her thumb circling the sensitive head of my cock in a way that makes rational thought nearly impossible.
“Bailey,” I warn, my voice low as I capture her wrist. “If you keep that up, this will be over before it begins.”
Her eyes widen with false innocence. “What happened to your famous control, Mr. CEO?”
In answer, I remove her hand and pin both her wrists above her head. “You happened,” I growl, using my free hand to rip her shirt up and over her head. The simple cotton bra she wears is far sexier than any expensive lingerie, because it’s on her.
“Did you just tear my shirt?” she asks, but the way her pupils dilate undermines the outrage in her voice.
“I’ll buy you a hundred new ones,” I promise, lowering my head to trace the edge of her bra with my tongue.
“Of course you would.” She gasps as I drag my teeth over the swell of her breast. “Typical rich boy solution—throw money at the problem.”
I release her wrists to unhook her bra, sliding it off to reveal her perfect breasts. “I’d rather throw something else at the problem,” I murmur, taking one nipple into my mouth while my thumb circles the other.
Her retort dissolves into a moan, her back arching to press herself more firmly against my mouth. I lavish attention on each breast, alternating between gentle kisses and sharp little nips that make her gasp my name.
“Sebastian,” she manages as I move lower, dragging my tongue down the center of her stomach. “I need?—”
“I know what you need,” I interrupt, my fingers working at the button of her jeans. “Lie back and let me give it to you.”
For once, she doesn’t argue, lifting her hips to help as I slide her jeans and underwear down in one smooth motion. I take a moment to appreciate the sight of her—naked, flushed with desire. Her hair spread across the pillow like a wild halo.
“You’re staring,” she whispers, and I detect a rare note of vulnerability in her voice.
“Because you’re exquisite,” I tell her, meaning every word. “Every inch of you is perfect.”
The blush deepens across her cheeks. “Even the scar from when I fell out of the cockpit simulator?”
I locate the small white line on her thigh and press my lips to it. “Especially that. It’s very you—reckless and memorable.”
“Smooth talker,” she accuses, but I can see how my words affect her.
“Not just a talker,” I remind her, settling between her thighs. I kiss the inside of her knee, then work my way higher, leaving a trail of kisses and light bites along her sensitive skin.
Her breath quickens as I get closer to where she wants me most. “Sebastian,” she whimpers, hips shifting.
“Yes?” I pause, looking up at her with deliberate innocence. “Did you need something?”
“Don’t tease,” she begs, fingers tangling in my hair.
“But you’re so beautiful when you’re desperate,” I murmur against her inner thigh, close enough that my breath fans over her center.
“I swear to God, if you don’t put your mouth on me right now?—”
I cut off her threat with what she’s asking for, parting her with my thumbs and licking a slow stripe up her pussy. Her taste floods my senses—sweet, tangy, addictive. I circle her clit with my tongue, her thighs tremble on either side of my head.
“Fuck,” she gasps, her hands fisting in my hair. “Yes, just like that.”
I lose myself in pleasuring her, alternating between long, slow strokes and quick flicks of my tongue against her swollen clit. When I slide two fingers inside her, curling them to find that perfect spot, she cries out, her back arching off the bed.
“Sebastian! Right there, please don’t stop!”
I increase the pressure, the tempo, driving her higher. Her hips move against my face, chasing her release. I can feel how close she is—in the way she tightens around my fingers, in the breathless quality of her moans.
When I suck her clit between my lips, applying just the right pressure, she shatters. My name tears from her throat as her body convulses, inner walls pulsing around my fingers. I work her through each wave, only easing up when she tugs at my hair, oversensitive.
