Page 80 of Fake it 'Til Christmas
She moans as I trail more kisses along the path I’m uncovering—slow and teasing—until I finally slide the panties off and toss them somewhere behind me.
And then I sit back on my heels to look at her.
All of her.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
She’s perfection—and mine.
Mine.Not because she said it—but because her body just did.
“You’re so beautiful, glistening already.”
She’s glistening.Soft and flushed and so fucking perfect I forget to breathe.Her pussy’s pink and swollen, and my mouth waters just looking at her.
“Fuck, Win,” I murmur, dragging my eyes up her body and back down.“You’re so fucking pretty.Look at you.”
She shifts, thighs pressing together like she might hide from me, but I press my hands to her knees and gently push them apart again.
“No,” I say softly.“Let me see you.”
She trembles a little, but she opens for me.
I lick my lips, eyes locked between her thighs.“You don’t know what you’re doing to me right now.”
She lets out a shaky breath, eyes wide, bottom lip caught between her teeth.
“You ever touched yourself for someone before?”I ask, voice low and rough.
Her breath stutters.She shakes her head.
“Good,” I murmur.“Then I get to be your first.”
I reach for her hand, bring it to her stomach, then trail it lower—just above her mound—before letting go.“Show me how you touch yourself when you think about me.”
She swallows hard.“Soren?—”
“Please.”I lean in close, brushing my lips against her inner thigh.“I want to see how you fall apart.”
She hesitates just a second longer, then slides her fingers between her legs.I watch her part her folds, her fingertip catching on her clit.She gasps—sharp, shocked like she wasn’t expecting it to feel that good.
My cock throbs behind the zipper of my pants, and I almost groan out loud.
“That’s it,” I whisper.“Just like that.Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”
Her fingers keep working her clit—slow, soft strokes that make her hips twitch and her breath hitch in the back of her throat.Her other hand clenches in the sheets, like she doesn’t know what to do with the way I’m looking at her.
I reach out and wrap my hand around her wrist, guiding it up—over her stomach, her ribs—until her palm brushes the swell of her breast.
“Touch yourself here, too,” I murmur.“Play with your nipple while you rub that pretty pussy for me.”
Her lips part on a gasp, eyes fluttering shut as she does what I say—pinching gently, rolling the tip between her fingers.
And fuck.Fuck.
