Page 55 of Jilted By Jack Frost

“Show me,” he says, his voice soft.

And I do.

I leave my perch on the window seat and press against him. My hands find his shoulders as I rise on my tiptoes, pressing my lips against his.

The kiss starts gentle, exploring, but quickly turns hungry and desperate. His mouth opens under mine, and I slip my tongue inside, tasting him. He groans, the sound vibrating through me. His hands slide into my hair, holding me close as our tongues dance and tangle. Heat builds between us with each passing second, turning my blood to liquid fire.

I press closer, wanting—needing—more of him.

I break the kiss, trailing my lips down his jaw, nipping at his earlobe before I continue my descent.

His breath hitches as I reach the waistband of his pants and my hands work at his belt, pulling it free before I tackle the button and zipper of his pants. I can feel his erection straining against the fabric, and I’m eager to set it free.

I pull his pants and boxers down just enough to release his cock, thick and hard and ready for me.

My mouth waters at the sight of him, his impressive length decorated with intricate swirls of frost that spiral up the thick shaft. His cock stands proud, and the pale blue-white patterns making it look almost ethereal against his blue skin.

Holy fuck, he’s perfect.He’s thick—thicker than I expected, and even his balls are dusted with a light coating of frost, like they’ve been touched by winter itself. The delicate crystalline designs seem to pulse with his heartbeat, and I can’t wait to trace them with my tongue.

“Beautiful,” I whisper, stroking the velvet-soft skin. His breath hitches as my thumb traces one of the glowing spirals. Pre-cum beads at his slit, clear and glistening like melting ice, and his cock twitches under my hungry gaze.

I remember his words from earlier, how he’d teased me about my filthy mouth. Now, I’m about to show him just how dirty I can be.

I push him back on the window seat and meet his gaze again, holding it as I sink to my knees before him. His eyes widen, a mix of surprise and anticipation flashing across his face.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” I breathe, wrapping my hand around the base of his cock, stroking him slowly as I lean forward and flick my tongue over the tip. “And you taste even better.”

He sucks in a sharp breath, his body tensing under my touch. Encouraged by his reaction, I take him into my mouth, my lips sealing around his shaft as I start to move.

I bob my head, taking him deeper with each stroke, my tongue swirling around his length. His hands tanglein my hair, not guiding but simply holding on as I work him over. I can feel him getting closer, his thighs trembling beneath my arm, his breaths coming faster and faster.

“Fuck, Violet,” he groans, his voice strained. “Just like that. Don’t stop.”

I have no intention of stopping. I increase my pace, sucking him harder, deeper, until he’s gasping my name, his body arching off the cushion as he comes undone.

He tastes like fresh mint and frozen berries, a sweet winter chill that makes my mouth tingle. I swallow every drop, not letting up until he’s spent and trembling beneath my hands.

I sit back on my heels, a smug smile playing on my lips as I watch him come down from his high.

“You know, you taste better than any dessert I’ve had in ages,” I say with a smirk, running my tongue over my lips.

His eyes are dark with desire, and there’s a raw, unguarded quality to his expression that I’ve never seen before.

“My turn,” he growls, pulling me up and onto his lap. His mouth finds my breast, his tongue teasing my nipple into a tight peak as his fingers toy with the other.

His mouth trails down my neck, nibbling and sucking at the sensitive skin. I arch my back, offering myself to him as his hands skim down my body, leaving goose bumps in their wake.

“Jack,” I breathe, my voice a pleading whisper.

He chuckles, the vibrations tickling my skin. “Patience,” he his voice is a husky whisper. “I plan to enjoy this.”

His hands find my hips, guiding me as I move against him. Our breath comes in sharp gasps, our magic crackling around us like a symphony of winter and desire.

His hands glide up my sides, his touch feather-light, making me ache for more. His fingers trail over my collarbones, down the curve of my waist, and then lower, until he’s cupping my breasts. I moan at the contact, my head falling back as he teases my peaks to tight buds.

“You’re so responsive,” he murmurs, his lips finding the sensitive skin of my neck. “So perfect.”

His eyes lock with mine, a storm of desire and tenderness swirling in their icy depths. I reach up to trace the sharp line of his jaw, marveling at how his skin feels both cool and burning beneath my touch.

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