Page 16 of Her Billionaire Stocking Stuffers

“Is this what you want for Christmas, baby girl? Santa’s fat cock?”

“Yes, please.” I reach for him and he comes.

No more teasing, no more denial.

He gives us what we both crave.

Gabriel fits his cock to me, but despite grinding against me repeatedly, he doesn’t enter.

Unlike the night I watched him sink into Pax, he isn’t able to move forward. And each escalating press of his hips sends frizzles of discomfort through the pleasure they’ve worked so hard to build.

The chat has gone into a frenzy, people screaming in all caps for him to do it.

Beneath my mask, I scrunch my eyes closed and pray for him to get it over with quick.

“Has it been so long, you forgot how to fuck a woman?” Cole gives him shit.

The frustrated noise Gabriel makes resonates in my soul. I need him inside me. To do the thing and make it official.

This time he takes his cock in hand and braces it as he aims the wide, blunt head at my core. He relies on one short, powerful jab of his hips to embed just the tip of his long erection inside my body.

That’s plenty for me.

I rear back as white-hot lightning streaks up my spine. A muffled shriek escapes my mask though the few tears I shed are thankfully obscured by the thick rubber.

Isn’t this supposed to feel good?

I squirm, trying to break free, but Gabriel pins me beneath him while Pax wraps his arms around me from behind and cradles me to his chest. He splays one hand on Gabriel’s abdomen, preventing him from drilling deeper. “Wait. I think…”

Gabriel’s head snaps up, and from this close, his eyes shine even through the small holes covered with mesh that obscure his eyes from a distance. “Baby girl, are you a virgin?”

Between my ragged gasps, I whisper, “Not anymore.”

CHAPTER 8

Cole

Is that blood?

The fuck?

It’s not possible that when Ivy said she didn’t have a lot of experience, she meant she meant she had none at all. Is it?

Gabriel freezes as if it’s taking every ounce of his formidable willpower to keep from rutting against her.

Pax rubs her arms and belly, soothing her discomfort with soft words and promises that it will get better soon.

My fingers drift downward and slide through the evidence.

Painting my fingers with the wreckage of her innocence.

The comment section goes insane, whizzing past on the projection screen that takes up one wall of the room. Tips from horny viewers overload the system. For one moment, the urge to shield Ivy from their vision grabs me by the balls.

My lizard brain has a better idea.

Stake a claim.

Show every last member of our audience who she belongs to. Because after tonight, we’re never letting her go.

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