Page 29 of Their Christmas Miracle

Joshua

Holly leans back for me when I go to my knees in front of her. She kicked off her sandals a while ago already, don’t ask me when. One foot slides onto my shoulder, the other onto the back of a bar stool. She spreads her legs, blinking down at me for all the world as if waiting for me to critique her pussy.

“Delicious,” I murmur up to her, throwing her a quick smile.

She brings a finger to her mouth, and slips her nail between her teeth, biting down on the tip.

My dick throbs once, hard, and I hurriedly drop my gaze before I end up coming in my pants instead of in her.

I graze my nails over her thighs, watching goose bumps break out over her ivory skin. My lips brush the inside of her thighs. Her warmth, her lust, rises up to meet me as I draw near. I tug away her folds, baring a cachous-pink pussy.

She’s almost completely shaved — except for the perfect triangle of pastel blue hair above her clit.

Pointing, like an arrow, to that most sensitive of targets.

My lips purse and I press them to her clit. Holly’s hand finds its way into my hair. She tugs on it, groaning, shuddering under me.

And then she scoots forward on the table, pressing hard against my lips. I draw away, denying her that overwhelming pleasure for a lesser, more subtle sensory input — my tongue.

Gliding it between her parted folds, I spear into her warmth. I want to feel her shivering around me.

“Josh, fuck, slow down.”

But I wasn’t going fast. I was taking my sweet time—

“Please, you’re going to make me come. I don’t wanna. Not yet. Please.”

She starts rambling, but I’m pretty sure it would take a miracle for my tongue to do any damage down here.

But those mournful, crooning words of hers are making my dick ache and throb and pulse so hard against my briefs, she’ll have me coming with just a hand in my hair.

So I stab into her one last time. And then drag my tongue out and slide it glacier-slow up the folds of her sex.

And flick it hard against her clit, for good measure.

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