Page 7 of Jingle Devil

FIVE

Tessa

I can’t believe I told Mick Weller I wanted him for a night. I can’t believe he took me back to his penthouse apartment. His penthouse. His penthouse that overlooks downtown Nashville.

It’s modern and sleek and freaking huge. A small Christmas tree sits on the side table next to the couch and soft carols come through the hidden speakers.

I don’t get to see much. Just the twinkling lights of the city below as I glance out his floor-to-ceiling wall of windows before he places a hand on my shoulder and unzips my dress with the other. I should protest, push him away and move away from the window… but I don’t. We’re several stories up but there’s a chance someone could see us, and I can’t help the thrill that runs down my spine.

Let them see.

I close my eyes as his fingers trail down my spine until the green sheath falls around my feet, leaving me in a black lacy thong and stilettos. The dress didn’t allow for a bra and I’m finding it hard to care.

My nipples pebble and my pussy aches; I can feel his eyes all over me and I’m desperate for his touch.

“Fuck, that ass…” he groans, his hands grip my hips, and he rubs his hard dick across the cheeks. Remember when I said his erections will be the death of me? I was right. He’s going to kill me with that anaconda in his pants. And I’m going to die with a smile on my face.

No regerts. Not even one letter.

He spins me around, forces me backwards, and presses me against the windows. The cool glass at my back is a stark contrast to his heat at my front. He grinds his hips into mine and I let out a soft moan. My core clenches and my skin practically vibrates with desire. I run my hands over the jacket of his tux, inexplicably aware that I’m practically naked while he’s still in his full tuxedo. There’s something so fucking sexy about the disparity in our clothing but my fingers flex, needing to feel his skin on mine.

I slip my hands under his jacket but before I can push it from his shoulders, he grabs my arms. “Not yet, baby girl. It’s my turn first.”

He leans forward and kisses down the column of my neck. He grips my waist, keeping me steady as his tongue traces the swell of one breast and then the other. Mick moves even lower, lightly caressing the tip of his tongue across my tightened nipples. He pulls one in between his teeth and tugs before moving to the other side.

My head falls back against the glass, and I let out a low, guttural moan. My skin tingles as he trails his lips lower. And lower. Until he’s kneeling on the floor, his palms coasting up and down the sides of my thighs. His lips ghost over the lace covering my pussy and then he rubs the scruff of his chin across the inside of my thigh. I swear the second that stubble scrapes my skin, my soul leaves my body and floats to the heavens. What’s left is a whimpering, quivering mess, and he hasn’t even really done anything.

No smooth-faced boy will ever do it for me again.

Once you go stubble, nothing else is worth the trouble.

I need to pull myself together before I start writing full poems to this man’s facial hair.

But then he growls. He pushes his mouth to the small scrap of fabric in front of my clit and fucking growls. I’m going to have twelve poems done by morning.

“Oh, fuck me,” I moan.

“Not yet,” he murmurs against me, ripping the panties from my body and tossing them behind him.

“That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He chuckles, picking up one of my legs and biting the soft flesh of my inner thigh before sliding it over his shoulder. “If you like that, then you’ll love this.”

I open my mouth to question him, but then he leans forward, his mouth latching onto my clit and my brain ceases to function. My hands find their way to his hair and grab on for dear life as his tongue makes tight circles around that little bundle of nerves. I moan and whimper. I use the foot not over his shoulder to lift up and rock my hips against his mouth. Shameless hussy or not, I can’t get enough.

Mick growls again, this time the vibrations spread through my core, and his scruff rubs across the sensitive flesh. My leg collapses and I’d be a puddle on the floor if it weren’t for his hands catching the globes of my ass and pinning me to the window. They squeeze my cheeks and hold me in place as his tongue travels lower and spears inside me.

My fingers tighten in his hair, and I bite my lower lip to keep the string of expletives inside my head. He plunges his tongue in and out of my pussy, fucking me with it, before going back to my clit. He sucks it between his lips, rolls it with his tongue, and does things no vibrator will be able to replicate. My thighs quiver and my breath catches as waves of pleasure crash over me. His name becomes a chant, my whole body shudders, and I think I black out for a minute.

I regain my senses as Mick slides my leg from his shoulder. It’s a damn miracle I’m still standing but I manage to support myself on shaky legs as he stands. I wish I were one of those girls with a witty response loaded up for any and every occasion, but I can only stare at him, mute as a mime, under his intense gaze.

“Turn around.” Mick demands, his voice low and gravely. “Now.”

Holy hell, that’s hot.

He quirks a brow, assessing me with a watchful eye, until I spin around. The view really is astounding from up here. The lights from the bars below illuminate the crowded sidewalks, and I wonder if they can see me standing here in my heels with my breasts pressed to the glass. My nipples are tightened and my breasts tingle along with my greedy clit. A small thrill runs through me as I imagine Mick reaching around and strumming me to another orgasm while the tourists watch from below.

Mick sweeps my hair to the side, covers my back with his front, and rasps in my ear, “Do you like knowing they can look up at any moment and see you? Do you want them to know I’m fucking you? That you’re mine?”

---