Page 109 of The Christmas Wife

He glances down at the tights, reaches for the waistband with his injured hand. He pauses. I hook my fingers in the waistband of my tights and tug them down along with my panties. The lycra sticks around my thighs. Shit, and I'd worn them in the hope of seeming sophisticated. Go figure! I try to peel them off, but the damn thing resists. Shit! I yank it down further, manage to twist it around my knees. Another tug and I shove it down to my ankles, peel it off. Whew! I straighten, and with a low growling sound he's on me.

He lowers himself to his knees, pushes his face into my pussy and fastens his mouth on my melting core. "OMG." I yell, "Wes, Wes... Wes." I chant his name as he stabs his tongue inside my channel, swipes his tongue up from my backhole to my clit. He bites on my clit and I arch off the wall. OMFG! This man's tongue should be worshipped; also his mouth, and his dick, and his digits... Gah! He slides his finger inside my melting pussy and I shudder. My knees seem to give away. I begin to slide down the wall, dig my fingers into his hair for purchase and tug on it. He growls. My nerve endings spark.Ooh, I like that.A lot, actually. I yank at that luxurious hair on his head.

He peers up at me, "You know you’ll have to pay for that, huh?"

"Promises, promises." I smack my lips.

His nostrils flare. He rises to his feet, and keeps rising. I mean, he is tall. I know that, but in that enclosed space he is larger than life. A lethal, vital, sex machine of a man. My sex clenches, heat coils low in my belly, emptiness gnaws deep inside. I need him. Want him... Yearn for him to fill me up and put me out of my misery. "Wes," I groan.

"Here baby, right here."

He plants his thigh between my legs.

"I am going to make this so fucking good for you, Princess." He thrusts his fingers…two…three inside my pussy.

I gasp; my knees buckle. One thing I can confirm. Weston-built-like Adonis-Kincaid, always delivers.

He wraps his fingers around my neck, holds me upright, even as he shoves the fingers of his other hand in and out of me. I moan, reach for his shoulders. He doesn’t stop; he scissors his fingers inside of me. Goosebumps dot my skin; a trembling begins from the soles of my feet, inches upward. He releases his hold on my neck, then turns me around.What the—?I sense his hot breath on the curve of my hip a second before he pries my butt cheeks apart and rims his tongue around my backhole.Oh, my God.The trembling pulsates from where he slides his tongue in and out of me. He slips his palm between my hips and the shower wall, then grinds the heel of his hand against my pussy.

"Weston," his name is torn from my lips. I sense his lips curve against my arse… Is that even possible? Then he thrusts his fingers inside my pussy, and I explode. The orgasm sweeps up my thighs, my spine. I slap my palm against the shower wall, hold onto his forearm with my other hand. He continues to lick me, shove his fingers in and out of me, extending the climax, which seems to go on and on. He pulls away his hand, removes his tongue, and just like that, my orgasm fades. No way, he can’t command my body with such…finesse, can he? My knees give way, for real this time. His arms come around me. He turns me toward him, pinches my chin, so I look up at him.

"Wow," I gasp, "that was…" I swallow, "It was…"

"Just the beginning."

"Huh?" My head spins. "I… I don’t think I can…"

"You can."

He grins down at me, that toe curling, sex clenching, scalp tingling smirk that sends a surge of heat racing up my spine.

"Are you a sex god?" I mumble.Hell, did I blurt that out?Must be my sex-addled brain that’s speaking. Not my fault.Gah.

"That’s Dr Sex God to you." He laughs, "And you’re welcome, again."

"Huh?"Do I want to know why? Don’t ask him; don’t."For what?"

"For the third, fourth and fifth orgasm that you are going to experience."

"No." I blink.

"Yes." His lips curl. He reaches behind him, shuts off the shower, then steps back and rakes his gaze down my naked body. I will not cover myself, will not hide what he’s already pinched and massaged and teased and licked and sucked and… I press my thighs together.

"Hmm," he smirks.

"You going to take off your clothes, or what?" I mutter.

He unbuttons his shirt, whips it off, then unfastens his belt. My gaze drops to his crotch.Don’t stare; look away, you slut.He shoves down his pants and his boxers, kicks them aside. He straightens and I gulp. OMFG. I take in his cock that stands to attention against his stomach. It’s thick and wide, and longer than I remember it to be. How had I managed to take him down my throat?

I must have made a strangled noise, for he chuckles. "It will fit," he assures me, "I’ll make it."

That’s what I’m afraid of.

I sidle away and toward the door of the shower cubicle.

"Where do you think you’re going?" he drawls.

"Ah, I…uh... I need to pee."

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