Page 22 of An Unexpected Christmas
Then his mouth is on me, and I nearly levitate off the bed.
“Oh—fuck—” My hands fly to his hair, threading through the thick dark strands, anchoring myself to something solid as his tongue moves with precision and skill that I could easily become obsessed with. He groans against me, the vibration sending sparks up my thighs, settling at the peaks of my hard nipples. My hips move instinctively, chasing more friction, more him, and he doesn’t stop me—just grips tighter and dives deeper.
I’ve never been devoured like this. Never been made to feel like the only thing that matters in the world is my pleasure. He’s relentless, working me open with his tongue and fingers like he’s memorizing every reaction, every gasp, every tremble.
When he slips a finger inside me, curling just right, I cry out, my legs shuddering around his shoulders.
“Yes—oh my god—don’t stop—”
His eyes flick up to mine, and the heat in them nearly undoes me. “Soak my face. You want that, don’t you, baby?”
Yes, yes, yes, a million times yes, I want that.
It hits hard and fast, like a wave crashing through my body, white-hot and blinding. I cry out his name, unraveling in his arms as he coaxes me through my orgasm with slow, gentle strokes and soft whispered words that make the sensation last forever.
By the time I come down, I’m boneless, panting, limbs heavy against the sheets. Sam crawls up my body, his mouth glistening and smug as hell.
He presses his forehead to mine, his breathing rough. “Can I… Can I have you, Frankie?”
God, the rasp in his voice sends sparks all over. I nod, no hesitation. “Yes.”
I reach for the waistband of his jeans, fingers trembling as I pop the button and drag the zipper down. He watches me, lips parted, chest rising and falling like he’s holding himself back by a thread. When I slide my hand inside and wrap my fingers around him, his breath stutters and he growls low in his throat.
“Christ.”
“Take everything off,” I whisper, tugging gently. “I want to feel you.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice. In one smooth motion, he kicks off his jeans and boxers, tossing them aside before comingback over me, his skin flushed and warm as he settles between my thighs. He pauses, eyes locked on mine, like he’s asking me one last time.
I cup his jaw, pulling him closer until our noses brush. His hips roll into me, the thick weight of his cock pressing against my center through nothing but heat and slick. The grind forces air from my lungs, my nails catching at his shoulders, and he groans so deep it rumbles in his chest.
He drags against me again, harder, the friction searing, and his breath stutters against my mouth. “Fuck,” he whispers, almost breaking, hips jerking once more. The way he shudders tells me he’s on the edge, fighting every instinct to lose himself right here.
“Condoms are in the drawer,” I say, breathless and pulsing. He reaches for one and covers himself. “Fuck me now,” I demand, then add one word in desperation, “Please.”
He groans softly, kissing me again as he lines himself up and pushes in slowly. The stretch makes my breath hitch—but I don’t stop him. I want all of it. Of him. My fingers claw into his back as he groans into the crook of my neck, sinking deeper until he’s fully inside me.
He murmurs something unintelligible, but that English rasp in his voice that makes words sound different, especially when he’s coming undone because he’s inside of me… that might be mykryptonite.
“Yes,” I whisper, wrapping my legs around his waist and drawing him closer. “Don’t stop.”
Then I roll my hips just a little, demanding more.
His mouth drops open. “You’re a pushy little thing, aren’t you?”
“Don’t hold back.” I smile, dragging my nails down his back again. “I can take it.”
His gaze pins me where I lie, starving, commanding, and when he leans down, his mouth brushes my ear, his voice a low growl. “If you can really take it, prove it, baby.”
Gone is the soft restraint, the careful way he’s been touching me. What replaces it is darker, heavier, it makes all the hairs stand up on the back of my neck, anticipation of seeing another version of Sam nips at my heels and gets me moving. I’m damn well ready to show him how badly I want this, so I flip us until I’m straddling him, thighs braced on either side of his hips. When I’m fully seated, it’s too much and not enough at the same time. I’m so full of him that I rock my hips to see how much more I can take. The sensation of him hitting that magical spot inside me makes my head drop backward and goosebumps pebble my nipples.
His hands fly to my waist, guiding me back and forth. “Oh, fuck, look at you riding me. My perfect greedy girl.”
“You feel so good inside me, Sam,” I moan, grinding down and rotating my hips until he hisses his approval.
His head tips back, eyes fluttering shut, jaw taut as I take him in deeper, building a steady rhythm until that familiar pull inside me begins, coiling tight, barreling toward that edge. His fingers bite into the curve of my ass, urging me faster, harder, but I set the pace, reveling in the push and pull between each movement.
Each counter thrust is deliberate and deep, and I swear I feel it in mysoul. We move together like we’ve done this a hundred times—like our bodies justknoweach other.
