Page 26 of The Naughty Elf

Ginger presses her mouth to mine, and I’m frozen even as heat burns inside of me. Her soft mouth forms another kiss against mine, and I break through my own hesitation, my hand finding the small of her back to tug her closer.

Those slender fingers wrap themselves in my hair as she leans into me. A soft nip of her teeth on my lower lip has desire raging through me. It’s always so close to the surface when she’s nearby.

Fuck, I want to devour her. I’m barely able to keep myself restrained. This is so incredibly inappropriate, but I can’t seem to stop completely.

My thigh slips between hers, wanting to be closer, naked, inside of her.

Her grip twists in my hair like she’s thinking the same thing. Fuck, I’m a goner.

Ginger’s hips move against my thigh, rocking and seeking pleasure that I’m sure I can give her. I squeeze her waist in both hands, doing nothing to stop her movements. It’s taking every ounce of mental fortitude not to strip her bare right now.

Her touch smooths over my chest, like she’s testing the density of my muscles. I’d let her weigh and measure every one of them if we had the time. The drop to my belt, as she tugs at it impatiently, undoing it in record time.

My mouth drops from hers. “Ginger.”

It’s a soft plea. For what, I’m not sure. To slow down? To stop? To hurry the fuck up, so I can give her what she’s silently asking me for?

“Don’t start saying my name now.” She pops open the button of my jeans, and I know this train is speeding down the tracks too fast for me to stop.

I lift her in my grip and I’m rewarded with her gasp against my mouth. Ginger holds on, trusting me to handle her with care. Which I will.

Kneeling on the step behind her, I plant her ass on the one above it. She’s quick, snapping open her own jeans to give me a peek of her creamy flesh. Fuck, I want to taste every inch of it.

But there’s no time.

I yank the jeans off her hips and pull back only long enough to free her from them. When I glide back to her, she spreads her knees to let me between them. I smooth my palms up her calves and thighs. They’re soft and supple under my rough skin.

This isn’t how I pictured this, but I will take whatever she’s willing to give me.

Her touch is low on my stomach, gliding my zipper down and staring me straight in the eyes. Confident. Sexy. Her longing starts a fire burning within me.

I push my jeans down enough to spring my cock free into her waiting hand. We gasp together as she gives me a few tentative strokes.

“Fuck,” she says against my ear, and she squeezes once.

Kissing along her throat, my hips rock involuntarily into her palm. I certainly don’t need any foreplay, but she does.

Yet, when I reach to stroke her folds, I find her soaking wet. A groan gets strangled low in my throat. One finger slips into her so easily.

Her head falls back, and her soft murmuring urges me to work another finger into her, teasing her clit. I love feeling her clenching around me and the way she grinds her pussy down into my hand. I even love the taste of her skin as she wriggles under me.

Every little piece of her is vibrant, a siren’s call to my baser instincts to claim her and make her mine. And the way to do that is to be inside of her.

When I slide my hand from her tender sex, she whimpers, but her head comes up to watch when my hand closes around the base of my cock. She follows my strokes, her hand so much smaller than my own, making me look massive.

Ginger’s hand falls away as I lean forward, drawing my head through her silky folds, wetting myself with her arousal. She’s so wet for me that it blows my mind.

I’ve never had a woman want me like this before.

She grabs onto my shoulders, forehead meeting mine as I work myself into her. It takes a few strokes, but once I’m fully seated, we both let out a sigh.

Her touch travels down my arms as she churns her hips. Every little groove and ridge undulates over my sensitive shaft. My teeth clench with the need to piston my cock into her. After a few breaths, I allow myself to move.

The slow glide of our bodies meeting and retreating has me entranced. I’m lost to her and every small move she makes. Her hands roam, reaching under my shirt to touch my skin. Fuck, it practically burns me.

When I meet her gaze, I know I’m going to need more and more and more of her. To have her all to myself. To make her feel good every day.

I draw her closer, and her legs wrap around me squeezing my waist.

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