Page 15 of Snowed in with a Grinch

“You're perfect,” he murmurs, tossing my panties aside. His hands skim up my legs again, pushing them further apart as he settles his fingers between my thighs. “And so wet for me already.”

I let out a soft whimper as his fingertips ghost over my slick folds, barely touching. He's teasing me, working me up with the barest of caresses until I'm trembling with need.

“Please, Sawyer,” I beg, desperate for more. “Touch me.”

“I am touching you,” he rumbles, but he obliges with more, one thick finger gliding through my wetness to circle my aching clit. Pleasure sparks through me at the direct contact and my hips buck up. “Like this, angel? Is this what you need?”

“Yes!” The word comes out as a gasp as he rubs tight circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves. “Don't stop. Feels so good...”

He doesn't stop. If anything, he seems spurred on by my needy cries, his fingers moving with more purpose. He traces every slick fold, cataloging my reactions, learning my body with the same single-minded focus he gives his plants.

“That's it, angel,” he encourages as I rock my hips to meet his strokes. “Take what you need. I want to feel you come apart for me.”

His words send heat rushing through my veins, stoking the fire his touch has ignited. I've never felt like this before—so wanton, so desperate, so utterly consumed by pleasure. It builds with each stroke of his fingers, coiling tighter and tighter low in my belly until I'm teetering on the edge of something big.

“Sawyer, something’s happening,” I pant, my nails digging into his shoulders. “What is?—”

“It’s OK. Let go, Noelle. I've got you.”

He presses down on my clit, rubbing fast, hard circles, and the coil inside me snaps. My back arches off the bed as I cry out, wave after wave of ecstasy crashing over me. Sawyer works me through it, his fingers never stopping their delicious torment even as I shake and tremble beneath him.

“That's it, angel. So beautiful,” he praises. “I could watch you fall apart like that forever.”

SAWYER

As Noelle comes down from her high, I scatter gentle kisses along her inner thighs, soothing her sensitive skin. My hands, used to handling the most delicate blooms, have never had a more precious task than worshipping her body. For a man who's spent years avoiding touch, I can't seem to stop touching her.

“Sawyer.” She's trembling, her face flushed and eyes glassy with pleasure. I've never seen anything more beautiful. After years of choosing solitude, of keeping everyone at arm's length, the way she’s trusting me with this precious gift makes my chest ache. “That was...”

“Only the beginning,” I promise, nuzzling against her soft skin. Her scent fills my senses—sweet and dizzying. I want to drown in it, in her.

My fingers glide through her slick folds again, teasing her entrance. She gasps, oversensitive but arching into my touch, silently begging for more. I groan at how responsive she is, how completely she gives herself over to the pleasure. Each soft sound, every tremor that runs through her body, reminds me I'm the first to see her like this, to touch her like this.

The trust she's placing in me is humbling. I've spent years in solitude, convinced that loneliness was safer than connection. But here is this bright, beautiful woman, offering me her most precious gift, and all I want is to give her the world in return. To make her feel cherished, adored, and whole. I want to keep her close, to weave our lives together—as crazy as that sounds after such a short time together.

“Please,” she whimpers as I circle her opening. “I need you.”

“I need you too, angel. So much.” The confession comes from somewhere deep inside me, from that place I've kept locked away for so long. Like one of my stubborn orchids finally blooming, something inside me is opening, reaching for her light. “But I want to make sure you're ready.”

Slowly, carefully, I ease one thick finger inside her tight heat. We both moan at the feeling. Her fluttering around my digit, me enveloped in her silky warmth. I've never felt anything so perfect.

“Noelle,” I rasp against her skin, fighting the urge to bury myself inside her right this second. She needs time, gentleness, and I’m determined to give her everything she deserves. I withdraw my finger, then slide it back in, slow and deliberate, watching her expression transform from desire to bliss as I match the rhythm of my movements with the cadence of her breath.

Noelle mewls and writhes beneath me, her hips rocking to meet my careful thrusts. The sight of her lost in pleasure, knowing I'm the one giving it to her, fills me with a possessive sort of pride.

“That's it, angel,” I encourage her softly. “Just feel.”

When her needy whimpers turn to moans, I add a second finger, stretching her delicate walls. My cock throbs almost painfully, straining against my jeans, desperate to be where myfingers are. But I force myself to go slow, to savor every sigh and shudder as I bring her closer to the edge again.

“Sawyer, please,” she pants, nails digging into my shoulders. “I need more.”

“I know, baby. I've got you.” Curling my fingers just so, I find that spongy patch of nerves deep inside her and stroke. Her reaction is instantaneous.

“Oh god!” Noelle's back arches off the bed. “Right there! Don't stop!”

I don't stop. I rub that spot relentlessly, my thumb circling her clit in tandem until she's shaking, babbling my name like it’s the only word she knows. When I feel her wall clamp down on my fingers, I capture her lips in a searing kiss, swallowing her cries of ecstasy as a second orgasm crashes over her. Her body pulls taut and then releases, shaking apart in my arms. I work her through it, fingers gentling but not stopping their movements until she collapses back against the mattress, spent and sated.

“Sawyer...” she sighs dreamily, reaching for me with trembling hands. “Oh my god. What are you doing to me?”

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