Page 89 of The Christmas Fix
“Once I start, I’m not going to be able to stop, baby.” He gave a testing push of his hips. “Once I’m inside you, I’m going to fuck you until I can’t stop coming. Until I fill you with everything I’ve got.”
“Jesus, Noah.” Cat wrapped her legs higher up his hips.
He gave her other nipple a lazy stroke with the flat of his tongue. “Don’t you love the anticipation?” His lips hovered over the bud that strained toward his mouth like a flower reaching for the sun. “It’s like Christmas Eve.”
When his lips closed over her bud, Cat cried out, and he slid into her in one powerful thrust. Her breast popped free from his mouth. And Noah let himself off the leash. It was what she wanted. Noah Yates beyond control. But she’d failed to anticipate being there herself. His hips slammed into her, his cock riding her slickness home. Cat could do nothing but hang on for dear life. The power in him, the rocketing of his thrusts into her core. She was dizzy with need, with desire.
“I’m never going to get enough of you, Cat.” He was panting, breathless, hammering into her with the single-minded ferocity of an animal.
She felt the sparks in her fingertips and toes. Felt the molten glow, volcanic as it began to move through her body. “Noah?”
“Come, Cat. Come on my cock. Milk it for me.”
How could a man so reserved, so responsible, turn into an animal, primitive and dangerous and dirty?
Her arms were vises holding him against her. Noah lifted her hips, adjusting the angle, and dragged the crown of his cock over that secret place of wanton pleasure. That bundle of nerves that turned detonator.
“Yes,” Cat hissed out the word.
“I can feel you, baby. I can feel you,” he chanted. “Don’t hold back.”
Cat squeezed her muscles around him, his erection brushing exactly the right spot again.
“Fuck.” Noah murmured as his thrusts changed, wild and powerful, taking what he claimed. It sparked bright, hot. She closed around him in involuntary pleasure, shouting his name. He was there with her, coming hard, loud. She gripped him with those hungry squeezes and felt him pour himself into her. Again and again until he collapsed on top of her, pressing her into the pillows beneath.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
They were still intertwined, Noah still inside Cat, when the knob of the front door jiggled. It had the same effect on his heart rate as an unexpected gun shot.
Noah jumped up, desperately searching for his pants as they both heard Sara calling from the front porch. “Dad! Are you there? I forgot my history book!”
He yanked his t-shirt over his head and dragged Cat up off the couch.
“You need to hide,” he hissed.
She blinked those cool hazel eyes. “What? Excuse me?”
“I haven’t told her that we’re… whatever. I don’t want her to get the wrong impression.” He pushed the naked Cat toward the kitchen, picking up articles of clothing as they went.
“Dad?” Sara called from the front door, ringing the bell and knocking.
“Where exactly am I supposed to hide?” Cat demanded. Her body was flush with marks from his mouth, his hands.
“It’s a big house. Pick a spot,” Noah shoved her down the hallway, and when he was sure she was out of sight, opened the door as casually as possible.
Mellody took one look at him and clapped a hand over her mouth, her shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. He didn’t feel an ounce of amusement at her coughing fit.
“Geez, Dad. You never lock the door. Why’s your shirt on backwards?” Sara asked, as she brushed past him. “I forgot my history book, and I’ve got this essay due on Monday.” She took the stairs two at a time.
He looked at his ex-wife and opened his mouth. But there were no words.
“Looks like we caught you at a bad time,” Mellody said, amused.
“Maybe try texting next time,” Noah suggested spinning his shirt around. It was on straight now but inside out.
“Please tell me it’s Cat,” Mellody demanded.
“What makes you think—”
