Page 98 of Holiday Hire

Her eyes widen. She looks at me in question.

I grin. "If you want my stallion, you have to tell me you're going to let me lick your pussy for breakfast tomorrow."

16

Phoebe

Giddiness rolls through me. I giggle, then press my lips against his, offering, "If that's what you want."

He grunts, kisses me, then retreats, asking, "Is it fair to say I've changed your mind about getting your pussy licked?"

Another wave of heat burns my cheeks. I've only had a few lovers. Not once did I enjoy them going down on me. It always felt awkward, and I always wanted it to be over.

"Phoebe?" he questions, dragging his fingers over my ass.

I lock eyes with him, admitting, "I like it with you."

Approval fills his expression. He flips me onto my back.

I shriek, laughing.

He shimmies out of his jeans, then cages his body over me. He kisses me with a new intensity but suddenly stops, pulling his head back and studying me.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" I ask.

His hand slides over my thigh tattoo. He furrows his eyebrows and asks, "Are you a runner? I haven't seen you go for any jogs or anything."

Amused, I answer, "Nope!"

Confusion washes over his features. "Then why does your tattoo say 'Marathon'?"

My amusement fades. Emotions swell in my chest. I confess, "It's to remind me that life's a marathon and not to give up."

Worry replaces his confusion.

I quickly add, "I did it after my mom went into a mental home. She tried to hurt herself. I just thought..." I swallow the lump in my throat and take a deep breath. "I didn't know if I would ever feel that hopeless. So, I thought my tattoo could serve as a reminder that sometimes you have to remember that life is a marathon and there are good and bad parts. Then, if I ever felt like my mom did, I could look at it and not give up." I blink hard, wishing what my mom tried to do wouldn't hurt so badly.

Sympathy fills Alexander's blues. He strokes my cheek and gently says, "I'm sorry about your mom."

I nod, choking up. Tears form in my eyes, and I try to push them away.

He sweetly kisses me, then shoots me a stern look.

I nervously ask, "What's wrong?"

His lips twitch. "Nothing. I was just thinking about how you have better tattoo decision-making skills than me."

I burst out laughing, and my tears fall down my cheeks.

He chuckles with me and swipes them away.

When we calm, I tug his face toward me and slide my tongue against his. He moves his mouth to my neck, and I blurt out, "I think your tattoo's hot."

He arches his eyebrows.

My cheeks heat again.

He arrogantly grins, leans into my ear, and murmurs, "Guess you'll have to tell me if I overstated my skills or if I'm worthy of it." He flicks his tongue over my lobe and glides his erection over my clit.

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