Page 86 of The Christmas Wife

She nods.

"All right then." I reach behind her, snatch up some of the mix. I hold my fingers to her lips, "Open."

"But—"

I plop my fingers inside her mouth. She bites down with her teeth and I feel the tug all the way to the tip of my dick. My cock thickens, pushes up into her.

Her gaze widens.

"Feel that, Buttercup?"

I bring my other hand to massage her breast, then press my hips forward with enough pressure that her pelvis cradles every throbbing inch of my very aroused shaft.

She swallows, and the suction on my fingers, sends a shudder of heat racing down my spine.

"Fuck." My breathing grows shallow. I ease my finger out from between her lips, and bring it to my own. I lick my glistening fingertips.

She moans, "Jesus." She gulps.

"Nothing to do with the man above," I mutter, "but if I don’t have you right now, the one between my legs is going to hate me for a long time."

She chuckles. "You’re so corny." She grins up at me, her features alight, with so much mischief, so much life, that fuck, my cock thickens even more.

I frown. "Silence," I snap.

She winces, then pouts.

Fucking adorable. I shake my head. The fuck am I doing, thinking about her in those cutesy adjectives? And cutesy—? What the fuck? How did that even get in my vocabulary. I frown down at her and she stares back.

"I’m corny, hmm?" I reach behind her, grab the bowl with both hands, then upturn it over her head.

She gasps.

The mixture flows down her face, her neck, her chest, down to where our bodies are joined. "That’s better." I place it down behind her, then straighten. I step back, rub the mix down her front, across her stomach, to the valley between her thighs.

Her breath hitches.

I pat the mix into the apex of her thighs, onto her jeans.

"Ah," she trembles. I sink down to my knees, then thrust my face into her sweet, core. I bite down on the fabric that coversthe crotch of her jeans and her entire body bucks. She grabs at my hair and tugs. The pain rams straight down my spine, to my cock. I grip her thighs, pry them apart, then dig my teeth into the now-damp cloth that stretches across her pussy.

She screams. "Oh, my God, ohmigod…oh…my…"

I rise to my feet, bringing her up with me, and hoist her onto the counter and straight onto the bowl I’d placed behind her, which tips sending more of the gooey mess to pool around her. She shivers, tips her chin up.

"I need to be inside of you."

She nods. She opens and closes her mouth, her gaze pleading with me. But she doesn’t speak. About time. "You worried about our arrangement?"

She jerks her chin.

"So maybe I should…" I step back.

She scissors her legs around my waist.

"Don’t want me to go, huh?" I study her face. "Want me to fuck you?"

She frowns back.

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