Page 47 of Holiday Interference
From how bad I still want her.
She kisses me again—open, slow, no games this time. Just need. Her mouth is warm and insistent, her tongue teasing mine with just enough pressure to stir something low in my spine.
The mattress dips under my knees as I climb over her, bracing one hand beside her head, the other smoothing up her thigh, over the swell of her hip.
Her skin’s still damp from the kitchen heat, and when I trail my fingers over her ribs, she arches, chasing the touch.
“You sure?” I ask, because I have to.
She nods. “I’ve never been this sure.”
That does something to me. A click in my chest, deep and final.
I strip off what’s left between us—her shirt, my shirt and pants—and change out the condom before laying down beside her, my hand still roaming.
I trace slow lines over her stomach, her thighs, letting the moment breathe. Letting her catch her breath and giving myself one second to memorize the way she looks like this: sated but still restless.
Wanting more.
She rolls toward me, slides her leg over mine, and straddles my hips like she’s done it a thousand times.
She hasn’t. But she moves like she knows exactly what she wants.
“What do you need?” I rasp, hands finding her waist.
She leans down, her hair brushing my face. Her breath hits my lips. “I need to ride your cock and feel you fill me up.”
I groan. Hard. “Jesus, Noelle.”
She reaches between us, sinks down on me in one smooth, perfect slide, and I lose my breath completely.
She gasps, biting her lip. “Still okay?”
“I’m…trying to hold on.”
“Don’t.”
Her hands brace on my chest, and she starts to move—slow at first, a teasing grind that drags friction and pleasure across every inch of me. I grip her hips, digging in to keep control, but she’s not having it.
“No,” she says, pushing my hands away. “Let me.”
I do. I give her everything.
She rides me with steady, hungry rhythm, her head tilted back, her thighs shaking against mine. Her eyes flutter closed, but I can’t look away. Not when she’s like this—undone and strong and beautiful as hell.
Every roll of her hips knocks something loose in me. Every moan pulls another thread.
I sit up, chest to chest, arms around her back. She buries her face in my neck, breath hot against my skin, her body gripping mine tighter with every stroke.
I feel her start to tremble. Her rhythm falters. Her hands fist in my hair.
“Cal—”
“I’ve got you,” I whisper. “Let go.”
She breaks apart in my arms, hips stuttering, breath hitched, my name breaking from her lips like a prayer. The second she falls, I follow, groaning her name against her shoulder as I shatter with her.
For a long beat, we stay tangled—her breath slowing against my neck, my hands still roaming her back, anchoring us both.
