Page 65 of Filthy Rich Santas

His hand covers mine, rubbing it over his cock. Then he moves my fingers back to his zipper.

I lower it, and he groans when his cock finally springs free, lifting his hips to help me get his pants down.

“That’s it. Good girl.” He puts a hand on the back of my head, guiding me forward. “Now take what you asked for. Suck me.”

My eyes flutter closed as the salty taste of him hits my lips, and I run my tongue around his cockhead—just as greedy as they accused me of being—before letting the heavy weight of his shaft slide over my tongue.

“Oh damn,” Tristan says, his thighs flexing under my hands.

“How does her mouth feel?” Ryder asks from behind me.

“Better than I imagined.” Tristan’s grip tightens, his fingers tunneling through my hair. “Can you take a little more?”

I look up at him, my lips stretched wide, and instead of trying to nod, I push closer, not stopping until he hits the back of my throat.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he murmurs. The praise sends heat through my veins as he cups my chin with his free hand, still holding me in place with the grip he has on my head.

I blink up at him, loving the way he’s taking control almost as much as I love how he’s staring down at me.

I bob up and down on his cock, feeling held in place just as much by his gaze as I do by his hands. And then, when he hits the back of my throat again, he holds me there for a moment.

“Good girl. Now swallow it. Let me into your throat. Can you do that? Breathe through your nose. That’s it. Fuck. Deeper.”

The command makes my pussy clench. It’s such a wonderfully filthy feeling, and I obey, relaxing my throat as he pushes my head down. My stomach flutters as I take him all, until I feel his balls on my chin and have my nose pressed to his neatly trimmed hair.

“Jesus Christ,” Beckett grunts, the sound of his hand moving on his cock a reminder that I’m being watched.

“Fuck.” Tristan’s thighs turn to steel under my hands. “Do it again.”

I do, gagging a little, and his hold tightens as he slowly pulls back, then thrusts in again.

“That’s perfect. Fucking perfect,” he praises, his voice husky. “Do you want my cum?”

I moan, blinking away the tears that spill out of the corners of my eyes and hoping he’ll see theyesI can’t speak right now.

He does.

“Take it, then,” he orders. “Suck harder. Swallow me down.”

He pumps his hips, thrusting his cock in and out of my mouth, and I feel it when his control slips, his cock jerking. He holds me down again, and when his cum starts to spurt down the back of my throat, a bolt of pleasure ricochets through me, making me moan again.

“Holy shit,” Ryder mutters from behind me. “That’s fucking hot. I can see your pussy clenching, love. You like that, don’t you? Is it sucking Tristan’s cock that’s turning you on so much? The taste of his cum? Knowing you pleased him? Or is it the way he’s holding you down and making sure you don’t miss a drop of what you earned?”

I shudder with lust, wanting to answerall of it. But I still can’t, and somehow, that’s almost better.

I blink up at Tristan, not moving until he finally lets me.

“Green,” I whisper once his cock finally slides out of my mouth, my voice a little hoarse and my pussy so wet that I know the view Ryder and Beckett have right now must be obscene.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip. “Who do you want next?”

“You know the answer to that,” Ryder answers before I can. “She wants us to decide. Come here, love. I know you like to tease me, but seeing you like this is a special kind of torture, so let’s not keep me waiting.”

I stand up on shaky legs, looking over at him.

The smile he gives me is pure fire.

He squeezes his cock as I walk over to him, my eyes stuck on the sight. It looks even harder and angrier than before, and seeing how I affect him drives home a truth I’ve heard about BDSM.

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