Page 81 of Fake it 'Til Christmas
Watching her touch herself like that, laid out in front of me, needy and messy, and mine?
It nearly breaks me.
Her back arches, thighs starting to shake as her movements grow bolder—more desperate.She’s close.I can feel it in every inch of her body.
But when her eyes flutter closed again, I lean forward and growl, “Eyes on me.”
She opens them, pupils blown wide, cheeks flushed, mouth open like she’s forgotten how to breathe.
“I want to see you fall apart for me,” I say, voice rough.“I want you to know what you look like when you make yourself come—and know I’m going to do it again with my mouth after.”
Her fingers stutter over her clit, like my words just short-circuited her brain.Her thighs tremble.Her breathing goes wild.Her eyes open wider—and the look she gives me?It’s filthy.Desperate.Like she’s already halfway gone and still begging me to push her over the edge.
I reach for my shirt and yank it off, never looking away from her hand between her legs.Then I stand, push my pants and boxers down in one smooth motion, and my cock springs free—thick, hard, flushed at the tip.
She moans at the sight, fingers still working herself as her gaze drops to my length.
“Yeah,” I say, curling one hand around the base and stroking once, slow.“You want this in your pretty pussy, don’t you, baby?”
She nods.Fast.Breathless.“Yes.”
My voice drops, darker now, rougher with how much I want her.“You close?”
She nods again, hand faltering.
“You need help?”I ask, stepping closer to the bed.“Need my mouth to finish what you started?”
She whimpers, thighs twitching.
“Use your words, sweetheart.”
“Yes,” she gasps.“Please.I need your mouth.”
And that’s all it takes.
Her “please” snaps whatever thread of restraint I had left.
I climb back onto the bed, lower this time—settling between her thighs like it’s where I was always meant to be.Her hand still lingers between her legs, fingers wet and trembling.I grab her wrist gently, bringing it to my mouth, and kiss her fingertips.
“You taste yourself?”I murmur, eyes locked on hers.“Fucking heaven.”
She gasps as I suck her middle finger into my mouth, slow and filthy.Her hips twitch.
“You’re shaking,” I say, voice low, teasing.“You that needy, sweetheart?That desperate for my tongue?”
She nods fast, lips parted, panting.
“Good,” I breathe, spreading her open with both hands, thumbs parting her folds so I can see every glistening inch of her.“Because I’m starving.”
I start slow.
A kiss—soft and wet—right on her inner thigh.Then another.And another, higher this time.I skip where she needs me most, dragging my mouth just beside her clit, just close enough to make her whimper—then pull away again.
“Stop teasing me, Soren,” she whispers, hips lifting off the bed, trying to find my mouth or something to take the ache away.
“Patience,” I say, dragging my tongue flat along the crease of her thigh, just enough to tease.
When I finally press a kiss to her pussy, she lets out a sound that damn near undoes me—half sob, half moan, all surrender.
