Page 67 of Filthy Rich Santas

Asiralmost comes out on pure instinct alone, but I swallow it down at the last second, not sure if that’s okay since we didn’t “communicate” about that sort of thing, and feeling all too aware of how inexperienced with kink I am.

Beckett’s eyes bore into me for long enough that I start trembling.

Then he nods, just a fraction, and his lips tilt up. “You do please me, little menace. I’m pretty fucking sure you can’t do anything else.”

My breath hitches in my throat, warmth spreading through me like a drug.

I lift a hand again toward him again, but then drop it when he raises a silent eyebrow.

“Good girl. Shoulders back. Keep your eyes on me. That’s it.”

My nipples harden as he stares down at me, and when his eyes drop to my lips, I lick them, already greedy again. I need to know his taste too.

“I’m not going to use your mouth,” he rumbles.

I suck in a sharp breath, but the intensity of his gaze burns away any disappointment before it can take root.

I swipe my tongue across my lower lip again, tasting Tristan’s and Ryder’s cum and imagining his. Beckett grunts, then drags his gaze up to meet mine again.

“I want you to stay right there on your knees while I jerk off on you,” he says, starting to stroke himself again. “I’m going to come all over that pretty face of yours, and those perfect fucking tits. I want to see it dripping down those gorgeous curves, filthy girl.”

Heat races through me, my stomach swooping. I want to touch myself again. I want to touchhim.

His thick fingers play up and down his double row of piercings, then circle his fat cock head before he thrusts almost violently into his fist again. He fucks his fist brutally, almost like he’s punishing his cock, and the rough grunts he makes with each stroke ratchet my arousal even higher.

I’m mesmerized. Entranced. And so damn turned on that it feels like if I twitch, I’ll come.

“Fold your arms behind your back.”

I moan, my body obeying him instinctively and then shuddering as the position makes me feel even more exposed.

I’m a blank canvas, waiting for him to paint me as he will. Waiting for him to make mefilthy.

My pussy clenches tight, my eyes fluttering closed before I remember that Beckett wants me to keep my gaze on him.

I snap them open, and he groans, slowing down and squeezing his length in a long, slow glide. “You’re so fucking desperate for it, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

“Look at you. Greedy for cock. Panting for my cum, even though you’ve already had a double mouthful. You can’t fucking get enough, can you?”

I moan, and he makes a sharp sound that has my core tightening.

He stops stroking. “When I ask you something, you answer.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, youcanget enough?”

“I mean, no,” I pant, my whole body vibrating as I hold the position he wants me in. “I can’t. It’s not enough. I want more. I wantyours.” I lick my lips, then whisper the word I want to. “Sir.”

His fist tightens around his cock again, his whole body freezing for a second. Then, with a groan that vibrates the air between us, he starts violently jerking his cock again.

“Such a pretty little slut for it. You want it? It’s coming. But I need something from you, first.”

I nod, lost in my arousal and unable to deny him anything. Anything at all.

“Give me another orgasm.”

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