Page 69 of Deck the Fire Halls

My legs were a little wobbly with anticipation when I finally got off the bike. I took my helmet off and couldn’t make eye contact with him. Had I really been so shameless just two minutes ago?

Where was that courage now?

“Tell me,” Soren said, his helmet on the bike seat. “Yes or no.”

I nodded.

He groaned and lifted my chin with his finger. “You need to say the word, Rob. I have to hear it, and you have to mean it.”

My body was just about to combust, shame andcourage be damned. My body was in charge now. I looked him right in the eye. “Yes. Take me to bed.”

He took my hand and led me inside, not even stopping in the mudroom for our boots. He took me down the short hall, into his room, and stopped before the bed.

He was breathing hard, his chest heaving, and he cupped my face in his hands. “Tell me what you want and I’ll do it. Anything. I’ll do anything you want.”

God help me.

My belly swooped, warmth pooling low and curling, my balls drawing down. I’d never had anyone ask me so brazenly, and instead of freezing up and letting him decide, I went with the truth. “I know I should say something like fellatio or another mutual hand job. The frotting was out of this world, but Soren, I really want you to fuck me.”

His jaw clenched and his nostrils flared again, his breath shuddering as if testing his self-control. But then he pulled my face to his and kissed me, opened my mouth, and delved his tongue in deep.

My knees almost buckled.

Without breaking the kiss, he clawed at my jacket, tossing it to the floor, my shirt swiftly joining it.

I was honestly a bit reluctant to rid him of his jacket. He looked so damned hot in it, but it met the floor too, and we only stopped kissing long enough for me to pull his shirt off.

He unbuttoned my jeans, then stopped. “Get on the bed,” he ordered, his lips wet and swollen, his eyes blackfire.

I’d have done anything he asked if he looked at me like that.

I sat on the bed and scooted back a bit. He grabbed my boot and undid the laces, quickly pulling it off my foot.

And all I could do was watch, as he stood before me, shirtless, the body of a god, and the bulge... in those pants...

Fucking hell.

When he had my second boot off, he wasted no time in pulling my jeans off me. I pulled my briefs down and he stood there, watching, almost panting. “You are so fucking hot,” he breathed, his eyes drinking in every inch of me.

It was such a rush knowing he liked what he saw.

He lifted his foot to the bed, pulling at his laces, giving me a fantastic view of his body, the way his shoulders and traps worked, and those damn pants. He filled them as if they’d been tailor-made just for him.

Then he did his second boot, and my hand found its way to my cock, giving it a lazy stroke as I watched.

“Ah, your pants,” I murmured.

He undid the button and managed to get the fly undone over his erection.

“Shame they can’t stay on,” I whispered.

He gave me a filthy smirk as he pushed his pants down. “Maybe next time, but not for this.” He kicked his pants off, wearing just his briefs, which did very little to conceal his cock.

“Oh my god,” I breathed. My belly tightened, knowing where that big dick was about to go.

Lord, I needed it.

Yes, you do.

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