Page 72 of Christmas Criminal

All thick muscle, abs that bunch and release as my hands graze his skin, thick pecs with the lightest dusting of chest hair. I squirm away from him so I can lean down and kiss his bare skin, my hands grabbing at every bit of him they can find.

He tips his head back, releasing a long sigh as he takes his glasses off for a moment and runs his hands over his face.

"That feels so good," he murmurs, as he grabs me by the upper arms and pulls me back to where I was, his erection rubbing at that spot I so desperately want to feel him.

I whimper at the sensation, and he presses on my hips again, mimicking the way I had been grinding on him before. He lets out a low note of approval from his throat. "You really are a live wire, aren't you, Noelle?"

I press my body against his again, my lips returning to his neck, and my tongue flicks out across his skin. "Touch me."

"Fuck," he grumbles, his hands moving deftly from my hips to the hem of my sweater. He pulls it over my head and drops it on top of his.

Before he can slow us down again, I reach behind me and pop the clasp of my bra, letting it fall between us. I grab his hands and press them against my exposed breasts, moaning with the contact.

"Fuck, Noelle," he says, pinching my nipples lightly between his thumb and forefinger. My hips start moving of their own accord, but before I can find the friction that I'm looking for, hegrabs my ass and pulls me up so he can pull one nipple into his mouth.

I cry out with the sensation, my head tipping back as my fingers run through his hair, holding him against me. He sucks lightly at me, releasing my nipple with a lewd pop.

"I love the taste of your skin," he murmurs, his hands still firm on my ass as he kisses his way across my chest to the other one and repeats his delicious torture. He groans into my chest, his teeth lightly grazing my nipple as he releases it. He wraps his arms around my middle, pulling me in close, and I stare down at him.

He grins, and with one hand clamped around my back, he uses the other to tug my leggings down, getting them past my hips before lifting me off of him.

"Stand up. Take your pants off."

I raise my eyebrows. "Bossy math teacher."

"Noelle."

I stand, pausing for a moment to make sure he's focused fully on me, and tug my leggings down the rest of the way. I step out of them, his hands returning to my now bare legs like his skin is magnetically drawn to mine. He tugs on my knee, pulling me back down into his lap.

I feel simultaneously exposed and charged as his fingers run gently along my thighs. His eyes track the movement of his hands as they continue up, dipping underneath the string of my thong. He lets it snap back against my skin, releasing a slow breath as he does.

He touches me slowly, every movement intentional as he drags his hand up along my stomach, squeezing the dip of my waist and continuing up along my ribs. He cups my breast, dragging his thumb lightly over my nipple, and continues until his hand rests on my neck.

He tugs me forward, my stomach pressing against his and my nipples brushing across his chest.

"Do you realize how beautiful you are?"

I swallow. With his hand on my neck, I can't look away from him.

He lets his words linger for a moment before pressing my lips to his.

And god, I’m not sure I can wait any longer.

I writhe against him, my fingers winding between us and searching for the clasp of his jeans.

He grabs my hands before I can free him, and instead wraps one arm around my waist while using the other to hoist us up. A surprised gasp jumps from my throat when he lifts me, and a moment later, he lays me down gently.

On the coffee table.

He kisses me, his tongue winding into my mouth and tangling with mine as my legs jump around his waist. He presses into me for a moment, the thickness hiding in his pants rubbing me in just the right way.

When he pulls away from me, I claw at him. I want tofeelhim.

He presses a hand into my sternum, holding me in place as he kneels before me.

My heart thumps as he kisses my inner thigh, the stubble of his beard scratching along the delicate skin. He rests one hand in the crease of my hip, his thumb trailing so lightly along my underwear. My hips buck up to meet him, yearning for more pressure.

When he presses down on me, a moan emanates from my throat because moving my hips against his hand is getting mesoclose.

---