Page 49 of A Christmas Mystery

“Mm-hmm.” He’s cupping my ass with one of his big hands and holding my thigh with the other. I wore thick wool thigh-highs with my boots instead of tights for this exact reason. He’s loving the bare skin above the band.

“You’re a really good kisser.”

He chuckles, his whole body shaking in the most delicious way. “So are you. You’re so passionate. You throw your whole self into this, just like you do everything else. I feel like I’m on a high from you. Completely intoxicated. Submerged in all your passion and feeling but somehow not drowning in it.”

I’ve been pressing little kisses against his jaw and neck, but now I lift my head so I can see his face. He’s flushed. Sweating slightly. And his eyes are deep and hot.

He’s not just giving me a (very effective) line. He means it.

As emotionally affected as I am aroused, I pull off my soft sweater and toss it on the floor. Underneath, I’m wearing nothing but a thin camisole. My frame is long and slender, and my breasts are rounded but not very large. I don’t bother with bras much in the winter.

His eyes drop to my chest with a hungry gaze, running over my bare shoulders and the outline of my breasts.

“Okay,” he says with a lot of gravel in his voice. “Now I might be drowning.”

I giggle until he reaches up to cup my breasts and thumb my peaked nipples through the silky fabric. My breath hitches, and my head falls backward as I arch into his hands.

I let him caress me until my need becomes too urgent. Then I lean forward again in a ravenous kiss. As our tongues slide together, he moves his hands back to my bottom, rubbing it through my panties. His fingers gradually get more presumptuous, but he’s still not reaching where I desperately need to be touched.

“Theo,” I gasp out. “Please.”

He makes a long guttural sound as he slips one hand into my panties so he can stroke my hot, wet arousal. I’m still trying to kiss him, so I make a whining sound into his mouth at the sharp tugs of pleasure when he finds and rubs my clit.

I’m so far gone I could probably come in about twenty seconds, but he doesn’t focus only on my clit. He fingers my entrance and pulls my thighs farther apart so that he can slip a finger all the way inside me.

Eventually I no longer have the concentration necessary for the kiss, so I pull away and tuck my face into the crook of his neck as I gasp and whimper. My body is rocking eagerly, like I’m instinctively riding his hand.

Theo is moving with me, making tight thrusts up into my weight as he pumps his finger. He’s huffing with our rhythm, occasionally grunting out a gruff sound that might be my name.

I don’t care if we’re so desperate we’re going at it in an adolescent dry hump on the couch. It’s still one of the sexiest experiences of my life.

When my rising orgasm coils so intensely that I can’t help but make embarrassing sobbing sounds, I smother them by biting down on his shoulder through his T-shirt. Something about the gesture finally breaks all the tension inside me. I come hard, my body shaking and arching through the waves of pleasure as I stifle my loud cry against his shoulder.

He’s making groaning sounds as he pushes his finger against the clenching of my inner muscles. He’s still rocking up against my weight but slower now, more lingering.

When I’ve worked through the last of my climax, my body relaxes, and I’m humming pleased and sated into his shirt. He’s fallen still too, panting loudly. He’s withdrawn his finger, but he’s still cupping me intimately with his hand, giving my clit some relieving pressure.

“That was so good,” I say when the power of speech has returned. I lift my head to smile down at him. “Thank you so much.”

He smiles back endearingly. “You’re welcome.”

“Now I can do you too.”

He chuckles. Looks sheepish. “No need.”

“What?” Frowning, I reach between our bodies so I can feel his groin.

He’s no longer hard.

I stare at him for a few seconds, processing what it means. Then a little giggle spills out of me. “Did you actually come in your pants?”

“There were extenuating circumstances,” he says, still smiling warmly. He can’t be too embarrassed. He looks as happy and relaxed as I feel.

“And what were those extenuating circumstances?” I tease him, leaning down to press a soft kiss on his lips.

“Those circumstances were having Maya Alexander coming on top of me. What the hell else can a man do but come too?”

I collapse into more fond laughter, and this time he laughs too, wrapping his arms around me in a hug.

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