Page 58 of The Sleight Before Christmas

“God no,” he answers. “Trust me, you don’t want that, and I won’t be—” he cuts himself off.

“Won’t be what?”

He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Maybe if I ask nicely,” I whisper, running one palm up his shirt as I run another to cover his cock. He’s deliciously hard, and from what I can tell, there’s a lot where that came from.

He backs away from my touch, pressing his forehead to mine. “Hey, stop.”

“Please, let me touch you,” I murmur, closing in to lick along his bottom lip as I run my hand up and down the raging bulge in his pants.

“God, help me,” he rasps out, his delivery full of defeat.

Claiming my victory, I unbutton his jeans and free his cock from his briefs.

“Merry Christmas to me,” I giggle before gawking at the perfection of what’s in my hand. Thick, the perfect length, veiny, and a fat crown. I run my fingernail along the sensitive underside of his tip as we share a stunted breath.

“Serena,” he exhales, “I’m cool with just messing around. You don’t have to—”

“God, yes, I fucking do.” Pushing at his chest to give myself the space, I hop off the workbench and turn him before slowly sinking to my knees.

“No,” he jerks his head just as I surround him with my mouth.

“Fuck,” he tries to pull away once more, and I palm his ass and take him in deeper, swallowing as I do. He exhales a string of curses as I swallow repeatedly, tightening my lips more and more with every pass.

“Damn you,” he utters, gripping the hair at my crown between his fingers, his demeanor visibly shifting as his eyes start to pool into liquid jade. “Then suck my cock, Brat,” he grunts as he starts to thrust his hips, his demeanor taking on the edge I’ve been desperate for as he issues another threat. “But you’re going to swallow, and that’s if you can even get me there.”

The stretch is too much now for him to see my answering grin as I claw his ass and go feral. Sucking noisily as he begins to utter filthy words. His groans are so sexy that I feel it the second my panties flood.

Popping him out of my mouth, I look up at him and pump him vigorously. It’s the sight that greets me that has me spinning out. Never in my life have I seen a sexier man. Eyes hooded, chest heaving, Thatch stares down at me as if I’m the sunrise, as well as the stars and a woman capable of hanging the moon. Capable of anything. No man I’ve ever been with hasever looked at me this way. As if ... I’m the thing he needs, the thing he needs to see. To breathe.

“Thatch,” I whisper as I stare at him, my whisper laced with the need I feel. “Be with me.” Somehow unable to order him to ‘fuck me.’ The brazen, bold seductress gone due to the look in his eyes. Instead, I ask him again in the only way that feels right. “Please take me.”

It’s the closest I’ve ever come to uttering anything resembling ‘make love to me.’ Those words have more meaning but feel right. This feels intense and ... important because of the way he stares at me—because of the way he makes me feel.

“Take me, Thatch,” I order more forcefully.

“I can’t,” he murmurs mournfully, “but God, do I want to.”

“Why? What in the hell is it?” I whisper, aggravated but unwilling to break the intimate bubble we’re in, even as my frustration grows. I trace the head of his perfect dick with my tongue as he groans his approval. Darting it out again, I keep my gaze fixed on his as his eyes hood further. He’s so beautiful, this infuriating man. Determined to prove it, I suck him in deeper, tracing every vein bulging along his perfect shaft with the tip of my tongue. I take my time, stroking him, savoring him, loving the look of him. His chest stops heaving altogether when I take him in as far as I can go before lengthening each pull. Pumping, licking, tracing every bit of his silky skin until he’s gasping out my name. As he comes, I stroke him and suckle until I’m confident I’ve coaxed everything out of him. The instant I’m done, he lifts me easily to my feet.

“Proud of yourself?”

“Very,” I muse as he walks me backward toward the bed I made for us before laying me down and kissing me until I’m fully wrapped around him. And minutes later, begging. Nestled between my thighs, he palms the floor and lifts, eyes intent as he lines us up and begins running his thick cock against me.

“Thatch,” I gasp as he suckles my neck before inching lower, sucking the skin just below my shoulder, and latching on. So much so that I know he’s left a mark as he rolls his perfect body against mine, hitting my clit where I need him to. My moans escalate as he keeps his eyes on mine and begins furiously grinding against me. In seconds, I begin to topple over as he kisses every inch of flesh. Just as I’m about to come, he pulls back.

“Show me that lace,” he orders, his powerful arms keeping him hoisted above me. I pull the hem of my sweater up as he drops his gaze to the green lace.

“Perfect,” he murmurs before lowering to trace the outline with his lips and tongue. Teasing, still teasing, always teasing. Frustrated and on the verge of losing my fucking mind, I bark out my one-word order.

“More.”

“Then give me more,” he counters, keeping his palms planted on the floor. “More, Serena,’” he commands when I don’t react fast enough. The second I lower the lace, he’s eagerly sucking my nipple into his mouth and moving more feverishly. My clit pulses as I rocket straight to the precipice of orgasm.

“I want to come with you inside me,” I groan. “I’m on the pill.”

“Fuck, baby. Fuck,” he grits out as he thrusts again and again as if he’s just as frustrated.

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