Page 75 of Texting My Secret Santa

“Are you saying what I think you are?” I say eagerly.

She drags her fingers through my hair. “You know I have no experience. I want you to lead the way.”

My steel aches in response to her words. My balls are full; my wood is pulsing.

“I need to see your body.”

I claw at her clothes like a bear claiming its mate. She raises her arms and lets me pull her shirt over her head. I tear off her bra, then push her breasts together, sucking her nipples, massaging her curves. She moans and shivers as I rub her folds at the same time.

Then I slide my hand into her pants and her underwear. I rub her gem with my thumb. The tone of her moans changes, becoming more insistent.

“Fuck. You want it so badly,” I groan.

“Just keep the light off.”

“What?”I lean up, staring down at her. “Why would you say that?”

She looks suddenly unsure. “I don’t know.”

I lean over and switch on the lamp, admiring the soft yellow light dancing over her voluptuous body. “You know you’re beautiful.” It’s not a question. “Every curve. Every inch. You’re perfect, Snowflake. Let me show you how perfect you are.”

I kiss down her body, over her soft stomach, then pull down her pants and her underwear. Her pussy glistens, wetness clinging to her lips, her bud looking deliciously eager for attention.

I sink my hands into her skin, kissing around her entrance, licking her folds, then her gem, making her sizzle with the buildup. Her whimpers urge me on. My mind empties of everything else. The snow-globe effect is back.

She tastes amazing, and her response is even better. She shudders and digs her fingernails into my shoulders as I lick her, stroking my tongue up and down her folds, then feasting on her. She grinds her hips against me.

“You’re so …” I lick faster. “Damn …” I lick harder. “Beautiful.”

She moans, pushing her hips against my face. I slip my finger into her slit and swirl it in greedy circles, addicted to her wetness, her heat. She pumps her hips, fucking my finger, bouncing on it.

“Asher,” she gasps, her bliss seizing her entire body.

I finger fuck her eager hole, leaning back so I can watch her, her breasts shaking. She stares down at me with wide, fascinated eyes, like she’s shocked by how much ecstasy she’s capable of feeling. Her body makes gorgeous wet noises as I pump my hand, the heel of my palm pressing against her clit.

Finally, she collapses with a drawn-out moan.

“Do you believe you’re beautiful yet?” I say.

She smiles down at me, her breaths coming in pants, her eyes hazy. “You’re starting to convince me,” she says breathlessly.

“Look what you do to me,” I groan, standing, tearing at my shirt, then my pants.

She sits up, her hand covering her mouth. My cock springs free from my waistband, precome dripping from my tip.

“You make me so fucking hard,” I whisper, stroking my hand up and down, spreading the wetness all over myself. “You make me wild.”

“Look at you,” she groans, shuffling to the edge of the bed. “I must be pretty sexy, huh, if I can do this to you?”

I love how complex she is—never black and white. She oscillates between confidence and uncertainty with a grace that comes naturally. She gently wraps her hand around my shaft, stroking, moaning, and looking up at me as if to ask if she’s doing it right.

“Oh,fuck,” I grunt. “That feels so damn good.”

“Like this, baby?”

“Yeah, Holly. Oh, seriously. That’s … fuck …”

She moves her hand faster. I stumble back.

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