Page 36 of My Secret Santa Dallas

When I broke the kiss, her eyes were dazed, and her lips were swollen. I leaned in, captured her bottom lip again, and suckled on it before biting down and swallowing her gasp. I moved my lips down her neck and peeled her collar apart to fix my lips over her pulse point, suckling on the throbbing pulse— before I sunk my teeth into her skin.

“Ah!” she half-screamed.

I pulled my mouth away and licked over the bruise with the flat of my tongue, like a big cat would. Pulling away again, I said, “Keep your hands where they are. If you move them an inch, I won’t be pleased.”

“Right, because I live to please you,” her words trembled, sarcastic as anything, but her hands did not move an inch.

Grinning, I pulled off to crouch, took her boots off, dropped them to the side, and worked out the button of her pants. All I wanted to do was tug down her pants, push her up against the wall, and get my tongue inside her.

I could finger-fuck her too, find that little g-spot and rub it and stroke that clit until she screamed. She wore those lacy little panties like before; only these were nude insteadof black. I tucked one finger under the gusset of her panties and pressed up.

She groaned, “Fuck.”

Pressing my nose on her mound, I asked, “How wet are you, Blair? How wet is your sweet pussy?”

Her chest heaved, and her belly contracted, “Very…very wet.”

I dragged my fingers lightly over the seat of her underwear again before I yanked them down and touched her. She was hot and silky wet. Her pussy clenched; her breath stuttered at my touch.

“Want me to stop?”

She shook her head frantically. “No. Oh, don’t stop.”

I grinned and licked at the seam of her crotch. “Maybe I should.”

“Dallas, no.” she pleaded.

“You’re begging now.” I fixed my hands under her thighs. “Maybe I should leave you hanging.”

“Don’t you fucking dare, you son of a bitch,” she groaned.

I looked up. “My, my, what a filthy mouth you have on you, Miss Southern Belle. Are you a good girl, Blair?”

“Yes.”

With that, I slid a finger that I slowly circled around her entrance, one digit slowly dipping in, nice and deep in her body, and her body jackknifed. “Really? That mouth tells me there is a bad girl in you.”

“No,” she rolled her hips. “I always follow the rules.”

Looking up at her, I smirked, “You’re in the barn with me, my finger inside you. Good girls don’t get finger-fucked up against a wall.”

“Do bad girls get your mouth on them, then?” she asked, sweat blooming on her reddening skin.

“Is that what you want?” I asked rhetorically. “You want me to lick your pussy? You want me to eat you out?”

“Yes, now get your mouth on me, cowboy,” Blair ordered.

I couldn’t miss the way her pussy gushed all over my hand. Yeah, Blair was a naughty girl. “Bad girls do get their pussies licked.”

The thin triangle of silky hair on her pussy was neatly trimmed and smelled sweet. Her scent had my blood surging this close, making my mouth water. I pried her thighs wide, lifted both legs on my shoulders, and slid my tongue everywhere—between her folds, around her clit, and inside her slick entrance.

I wanted it all; I wanted all of her, so I stabbed my tongue deep, licking and teasing, sucking and flicking; a few times, I even let my teeth graze her swollen clit. That bare hurt made her pleasure spiral out of control.

Her thigh pressed against my ear, trembling. Her stomach shuddered at her breaths, and the sounds she made— fuck! My cock was harder than an iron rod, listening to those little frantic breaths and cries and tasting her. Pre-cum spurted from the throbbing tip and stained my boxers and jeans, but I didn’t care. This was pleasure enough.

“Oh, god,” she groaned, her hands still in place.

One thing I was glad about was that years of experience and sacrifice had taught me self-control. Before Blair—and her smart mouth—I’d enjoyed dominance. With her now, I craved it. Her façade was peeled away when Blair surrendered, and I realized this was her true self.

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