Page 34 of Santa's Pucking Hat Trick

“That’s what youdon’twant,” he half growled, tightening his hold on me, his arm around my waist like a vice. I wasn’t mad about it. I wanted to be close enough to crawl into his skin, or if I was honest, I wantedhiminsideme.His mouth was millimeters from mine when he said again, “Tell me what youwant.”

So that was exactly what I said. My voice barely a whisper, my lips by his ear, I told Sawyer what we both wanted to hear. “I want you inside me.”

His response, a low hum in his throat that I felt rumble through both of us, was the perfect agreement. He added, “Your place or mine?”

“Mine.”

Sawyer didn’t need to be asked twice.

18

RACHEL

After exhibiting inhuman restraint in the car on the way over, the second Sawyer and I were through the door of the guest house, we exploded into a passionate replay of our original kiss at the ice center. Lips, tongues, teeth clashing with frantic energy even though we had nowhere to be, no reason to rush beyond our own desperation to feel each other. I tangled my hands in his gorgeous curls, finding them just as soft as I’d imagined them to be, while his rough beard scraped my face deliciously, making me think it’d feel even better between my legs. He kissed me forward, pushing me back toward my bed until I stumbled onto it, breathless and laughing.

Sawyer’s hands roamed across my chest, exploring the new territory he’d been given access to. His strong grip, possessive and erotic, seemed to ground me in the moment. I sighed as he touched me, massaging my breasts, building the anticipation for when his hands would find their way under my clothes, onto my bare skin, everywhere.

He was taking his time, though. Tracing the edge of my neckline with his thumb, giving me that tiny bit of skin-to-skin contact that made my pulse quicken but not undressing me likeI wanted. He pulled away from our kiss to give attention to my jaw, his warm mouth in that delicate place making me shiver. I reached for him with all of my body. My knees came up to bookend his hips, hugging him closer to me; my arms came up around his waist, pulling him ever closer.

“You smell so good,” he breathed into my ear, turning me to jelly. “Can’t wait to taste you.”

“Fuck, yes,” I whispered back, almost a plea. And with that, he started to make good on his unspoken promise. His hands began a slow, careful extrication of my clothes, amping up the tension so that by the time I was down to my bra and panties, I was struggling to regulate my breath.

He took a long moment to look at me, going so far as to pull back, breaking all contact, like he needed to concentrate and couldn’t be distracted by something as trivial as lust. He drank in every newly exposed bit of my skin like he was looking at a long revered artistic masterpiece. Not like I was being studied, but appreciated. Worshipped.

I felt his eyes like an extension of his hands, warm and leaving physical reminders of him everywhere they touched.

“I like the way you look at me,” I told him quietly, and he met my eyes, my blue-gray coolness meeting his warm, earthy hazel. Sawyer smiled, closed-lipped and almost sweet.

“I like looking at you,” he said simply. Then he moved back over me, his hands sliding instinctively from my hips, up my ribcage, wedging their way behind my back. It took no time for him to unhook my bra, and when it had been flung across the room like shackles being released, he had more of me to savor with his eyes.

“Oh, Rachel,” he sighed low, his hands sliding gently up to cup my breasts. He held them in his hands, enjoying how full they were. “Look at you. You’re a fucking dream.”

It was so sweet, even despite the expletive, that I felt myself swoon inside, not unlike when he’d revealed the plan for our private skating lessons. I’d never been with a man like this. Roman had been complimentary, had made me feel like a sexual goddess; Wes had been sweetly shy, and I relished the power I felt when he melted under my touch. Sawyer was different—a gentle exterior with raw, masculine power underneath. Not unlike his elegant Audi.

But unlike the car, I knew he’d be slow. Take his time. Drive me wild with need before he filled me up like I so badly wanted.

He started to trail slow kisses over my body, proving me right. Kisses for each of my collarbones, the swell of my breasts, my taught nipples. The pale valley between my breasts too—a delicate, sensitive place I expected him to overlook.

He wasn’t interested in overlooking anything. He took his time kissing down my stomach, and when he finally reached my panties, placing a hot, passionate kiss over the front of the damp material, I had to cry out with need. Instead of letting me twitch against the bed and wine and beg for him, though, he held me down, firm hands on my hips, confining me with his strength. Then, he took his sweet time teasing me to absolute madness.

A gentle finger traced every edge of my panties, a tickle-light touch that would have had me squirming were he not holding me down. Kisses on each of my inner and upper thighs. A nuzzle against my pussy, his nose barely brushing near my swollen clit, giving me the tiniest taste of pleasure. Then, when I was about ready to cry, he finally dipped one finger inside my panties from the side, testing my wetness with a slow swipe through my folds. He hummed, satisfied with how ready I was. Then I watched him lick my juices off his finger like I was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted.

He was trying to kill me.

I wanted him to just rip my stupid panties apart and eat me like his last meal. But he was patient as he finally pulled my last scrap of clothing down my hips, my thighs. He made sure to caress each of my knees, my calves, even showing my bare feet some tenderness by kissing each of the arches, showing me how it felt to be adored. Then, he looked at me, bare to him, and sighed.

“Gorgeous,” he said before he leaned in.

When his mouth touched my pussy for the first time, I could have cried at the relief of it. Warm and sensual, with the perfect rough contrast of his beard scraping my inner thighs, I could savor this feeling forever and never be bored. Sawyer licked me carefully, acquainting himself with my body, the sounds I made in response to his ministrations and what he could do to elicit more of them. I delved my hands into that long hair of his, relishing the eroticism of holding him down, encouraging him to keep pleasuring me the way I needed. He was more than happy to oblige.

Heat was building at a steady pace, and Sawyer was playing games. He’d reach my clit with his plush lips, giving it the perfect level of pressure and attention, then slide away to lick other parts of me, indulging himself. Then, I felt his hand come up to join him, a thick finger tracing lazy circles around my entrance before he finally delved it inside me, adding a lovely fullness to the whole affair.

I moaned as his finger thrust in and out of my wetness, another tease, a preparation for the full girth of him I couldn’t wait to take later. Now he was taking this seriously, his tongue finding a fast, delicious rhythm on my clit that had me writhing underneath him. It was so good, part of me never wanted to come, to let it end, but I got the feeling that he wouldn’t take my orgasm as a reason to stop. He ate me for the love of it, enjoying my taste as much as I enjoyed being tasted.

As if reading my mind, Sawyer confirmed, taking only a second to stop worshiping my clit so he could growl, “You taste like heaven. I could spend forever with my face buried in this pussy.”

“Yes,” I moaned, wanting that too. “Don’t stop.”

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