Page 147 of The Christmas Wife

I scowl at her, then at the bottle, "Do it."

"But."

"Now," I snap.

She gulps, pulls the bottle of wine from the brown paper bag. She unscrews it, drops the cap on the floor, then takes a gulp.

"Good girl," I growl.

She draws in a breath, then walks to the table, on the opposite side from me, and places the bottle on it, then hesitates again.

This woman, is she hell bent on killing me? "What is it?" I huff.

She glances toward the doorway, "Uh, I left the door to the apartment ajar when I came in... shouldn't I shut it?"

"Leave it," I order her.

"But—"

My balls ache, my groin hardens, and a snarl rips from me, "I swear, if you don't take off your clothes right now, I'll?—"

She unbuttons her coat, tosses it on the chair, then reaches behind to unzip her dress. The material slithers down around her ankles; she steps out of it.

She straightens and the sight of the triangle of pink fabric between her creamy thighs—" Jesus, fuck." The blood drains to my cock, I pull the pie close, and my shaft sinks into the moist center. I stare at the shadow of her flesh outlined against the crotch of her panties, "Take it off," I command. "Don't stop, Amelie."

"Or what?"

I jerk my chin up to her face. Her lips twitch.

"You don't want to tease me."

"Oh?"

I nod, "You have two choices here."

"Do I?"

I allow my mouth to curl, "Either you fuck the bottle and get fucked in the arse by me, or?—"

Her chest heaves.

"Or, you fuck the bottle and I fuck you in the cunt, then in the arse."

"Choices, choices," her voice wobbles.

"Take that bloody wine bottle and ride it, Amelie, or I swear, I'll spank you so much you won’t be able to sit down for months."

She scoffs, "You exaggerate."

"Do I?" I lower my eyebrows, "Give me a chance to demonstrate just how much I enjoy delivering on my threats." I peel back my lips, "Do it, Amelie. One chance to get my hand on that beautiful curved behind, Princess."

"Jeez," she swipes her hair over her shoulder, "some people have no sense of humor."

"Humor, huh?" I pump my hips forward, impale the bloody apple pie—the hell am I doing? Fucking an inanimate object, when the focus of my obsession is right in front of my eyes.

She shivers, my thigh muscles spasm, and this entire scene is bloody wrong... and so fucking right. "Don't keep me waiting," I grind out.

She swoops down, grabs the wine bottle, brings it to her mouth, then proceeds to close her lips around it, taking it in—as she had my cock, previously. Holy mother of all that's dear to me... That has to be the hottest thing I have ever seen— No, Amelie pulling the bottle out of her mouth, only to lower it between her thighs? That... I swallow. That is bloody erotic. And it shouldn't be. I mean, it is a woman—my woman, turning me on, by easing herself down onto the neck of the bottle. It is not what I expected from her. It's everything I wanted her to do.

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