Page 24 of An Unexpected Christmas
I glance toward the clock on her nightstand, dark as it was yesterday. “Looks like it.”
“Well, that means no coffee, no breakfast, and no Christmas movies.” She flops dramatically onto her back, throwing an arm over her eyes. “Truly tragic because all that food is in your fridge, not mine downstairs.”
I smirk, rolling onto my side to face her. “I could always walk over the street, it’s not exactly far.”
Her arm drops, and she peers at me, mock-serious. “So you’re saying you’re not only a writer but also a hero?”
“Hardly.” My gaze lingers on her. “But I can bring you food.”
The corner of her mouth lifts. “My hero, then.”
She turns away from me, stretching out her limbs, and the covers slide down. My gaze snags instantly, her breasts bared, perfect and soft, her nipples tightening as though they can feel my stare. Heat floods low in my stomach. I should look away, give her privacy, but I don’t. I can’t. The urge to lean in, to take one into my mouth and pull a moan from her lips, is a physical ache.
“Oh, wait,” she says, starting to roll back toward me, but she pauses and we lock eyes. I swallow hard, forcing my hands to stay where they are as her breasts press together. “Were you just staring at me, Sam?” There’s a knowing glint in her eyes.
“Maybe,” I rasp, my voice rougher than I mean it to be.
She grins, wicked and unbothered.
“You make it really hard not to,” I say, stifling a groan. Get it together, man. “What were you going to say?”
That wicked smile remains, and it makes my chest lighten. “I remembered I wanted to make Christmas decorations with you. That’s why we came here last night.”
I can’t help the laughter that explodes from me. “Thatwas your crazy idea?”
She gasps, still baring herself to me, completely unbothered that I’m practically drooling over her. “Excuse me, but that was abrilliantidea. You were supposed to help me cut out snowflakes and paper chains and use the hot glue gun, not… well.” Her cheeks pink as her eyes flick toward the bed between us.
I prop myself up on one elbow. “Not what? Because I’m pretty sure this turned out better than paper chains.”
Her nose reaches the ceiling with stubbornness. “You corrupted me, good sir. Don’t you know a lady’s virtue is important?”
Her attempt at a British accent is atrocious—half Downton Abbey, half drunk pirate—and I can’t stop another laugh that bursts out of me. “Bloody hell, Frankie,” I say, dragging a hand down my face. “That’s the worst accent I’ve ever heard.”
She cackles a laugh that makes her boobs jiggle a little, and I almost groan at the sight. “Excuse me! That was perfection.” Her tongue pokes out, and I take the opportunity to dive ontop of her, done with her teasing me but still keeping my weight and other eager appendages just above her, the sheet our only protection.
I’m close enough to see the flush bloom across her cheeks, the way her lips part on a sharp inhale. The sight nearly undoes me. I drop my head lower, brushing my nose along hers before finally catching her mouth with mine, our tongues tangling until we’re both breathless and her legs have parted, inviting me in. “You know what was perfection?”
“Hm?” she pants.
“Last night.”
Her breath stutters when my lips graze the sensitive spot beneath her ear. I linger there, teasing with just enough pressure to make her shiver. Her fingers curl into my shoulders, nails grazing lightly as she arches toward me.
“Mmm… Please.”
I trail kisses down her throat, deliberately slow, tasting her skin, savoring every sound she makes. When I reach the edge of the sheet, I pause, tugging it down an inch to reveal the top swell of her breast she covered in haste. Her nipples are already tight, peaked for me, and my cock throbs at the sight.
“You make a terrible English lady,” I declare, brushing my thumb across one taut peak, loving the gasp it pulls from her. “But you do beg beautifully.”
Her eyes flash, wicked and challenging, even as her back arches into my touch.
The sheet slides further, forgotten now, as I lower my head, circling her nipple with my tongue before sucking it into my mouth. Her sharp cry goes straight to my cock, but I don’t rush. I take my time, worshipping her, teasing her, my other hand palming the curve of her hip and guiding her legs wider until my fingers dip through her soaking pussy.
She bends like a cat when I touch her, offering herself without hesitation, pushing those perfect nipples closer to me, but it’s not those that I want in my mouth right now. Slinking down the bed, I kiss my way down her stomach until I’m grazing past her perfect sex, until I reach the soft skin of her thigh. I bite gently, just enough to make her hiss, and when her fingers dive into my hair to keep me there, I soothe the sting with my tongue. A faint tremor shakes her leg as I blow cool air onto her slick pussy lips. Using two fingers, I part her and blow again, watching her seek the friction she’s dying for, more pleas falling from her mouth, but I’m transfixed by the perfect pink pussy in front of me.
Pushing two fingers inside, the heat of her surrounds me as I stroke that front wall, coaxing noises out of her that make me silently beg for my own release, grinding my aching dick into the mattress below.
Her hips shift up, trying to chase that high, as I watch my fingers sink in and out of her. The sight of it ruins my restraint, and I lower my mouth and taste her. The minute her sweetness hits my tongue, I groan against her and lap everything up like a man starved, swallowing, pumping, desperate to make her feelgood. Every sound she makes feeds the hunger I have to give her this orgasm. Her moans fill the room like a symphony, and when I curl my finger, increasing my speed, sucking her clit into my mouth harder, she begins to shake beneath me, chanting my name.
