Page 40 of Triplet Babies for Pucking Christmas

“God, yes!” I’m a mess of need and pleasure, my body responding to him in ways I can’t control.

“Let it go, babe. Such a good girl.” His tongue works magic, and I’m teetering on the edge, desperate for release. “Come on, baby. Let go for me.”

“Jamie!” I cry out, the tension snapping as pleasure crashes over me, waves of ecstasy consuming my senses.

He doesn’t stop, drinking me in as I ride the waves, each thrust of his tongue sending me spiraling deeper into bliss.

“You taste incredible,” he says, lifting his head with a satisfied grin. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

I slump back against the counter, breathless, mind spinning as he pulls me closer again. This is wrong, but at this moment, it feels so right. I want him—need him—and I’m okay with that. Just for now.

“Savannah,” he whispers, his hands gripping my thighs as he looks into my eyes. “Tell me you want this.”

“I want you,” I breathe, my heart racing as desire courses through me.

“Good,” he says, his lips crashing into mine again, and I lose myself in the taste of him.

His hands roam down my back, gripping my waist, and all I can think about is how much I want him.

“Savannah,” he whispers, his breath warm against my ear. “You’re driving me wild.”

I can’t help but smile, but it’s a nervous one. “And you think kissing was a good idea?”

“It was the best idea I’ve had all night,” he grins, his fingers tugging at my thong. “And it’s about to get better.”

I watch, breathless, as he pulls my thong off and drops it to the ground. “You just…”

“Shh.” He silences me with another kiss, his hands now working on his own boxers. “I need you, Savannah.”

“Are you serious right now?” I ask, my voice a mix of disbelief and hunger.

“Dead serious.” He smirks. I’m left staring at the hard length of him, and it takes everything in me not to reach out.

“God, Jamie…” I bite my lip as he leans closer, peeling my bra off me.

He looks at me like I’m a feast, and I can’t help but blush. “You’re gorgeous,” he says, his fingers trailing down to trace the scar on his shoulder.

“What happened there?” I ask, gently running my fingers over the mark.

“Got it playing hockey as a teenager,” he says, his voice low, and suddenly it’s like the world fades away. It’s just us in this kitchen, the air thick with need.

He pulls me off the counter, turning me around. I gasp as I feel the cold surface against my bare nipples.

“Jamie,” I breathe, but he just chuckles.

“Just a minute. Let me admire you.” His hands explore my back and ass, his fingers dancing over my skin, sending sparks everywhere. “You’re so soft. How the hell are you so fucking soft?”

I can’t form words. All I can think about is how much I need him. I can feel him pressing against the back of my thighs, and it drives me insane.

“Please,” I beg, my voice shaky with desire.

“Such pretty pleas.”

He rummages through a drawer, and then I hear it—the unmistakable sound of a condom wrapper tearing. “What kind of person has condoms in his kitchen?” I can’t help but laugh.

“The kind of person who’s about to fuck you,” he says, nudging himself at my entrance, and my breath hitches.

“Jamie…” My voice is a mix of protest and longing.

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