Page 16 of A Season for Christmas

Very little.

“In fact,” she said, cradling his balls with her other hand and giving them a sharp yank that had him crying out—and thrusting up again. “It seems part of you likes it very much.”

The breath strangled in his throat as she held his tender sack, squeezing lightly but with enough pressure to feel like a warning. She was holding his most sensitive, most delicate parts in her hands and threatening to hurt them… and yes, his cock liked it far more than it should. The rest of him was conflicted, struggling to land on an emotion, caught between anticipation, excitement, and anxious apprehension.

He had no idea what she was going to do next… and, unexpectedly, he loved it.

8

Samuel

“This is a very nice cock,” Catherine said, admiring the appendage she was holding in her hand.

Samuel gritted his teeth. He appreciated the compliment. At the same time, he wanted her to do a great deal more than hold and look at the damn thing. She swept her thumb across the underside of the mushroom head, making his senses tingle and at the same time, not giving him anywhere near what he wanted, what he craved.

He’d never had to wait like this before, and he hated it as much as he loved it. Being so out of control was a completely new experience, and he was struggling with the emotional aspect as much as being so physically restrained.

When she lowered her head to swipe her tongue over the crown, Samuel groaned, trying to thrust upward again. He shuddered, his inability to move in the ways he wanted working out of his body by other means. His cock throbbed against her palm, the hot, wet sensation of her tongue sending pleasure shooting through him. Catherine movedher hand up and down, pumping his cock, then tugged on his balls hard enough to make him gasp.

The pain and the pleasure were wrapping around each other within him, making it difficult to discern which he was truly feeling.

“Catherine…” He gritted her name out through his teeth.

She ignored him.

And he was utterly helpless to do anything about it.

“Bloody hell!” Her mouth engulfed the head of his cock, her tongue exploring, and he writhed against both the cravat around his wrists and her weight across his thighs. His hands itched to touch her, yet being denied the ability made his insides heat even more than if he could fill his palms with her breasts the way he wanted to.

He was entirely at her mercy.

And she showed none as she slowly slid her mouth down his shaft, taking her sweet time. There was nothing he could do to hurry her, nothing he could do to reciprocate her sensual torture. All he could do was lie there and take what she was doing to him.

His head tilted back against the pillow as he panted for breath, doing his best to stifle his whimpers as she teased him with her tongue and mouth, occasionally tugging or squeezing his balls painfully. Each hard tug made his cock jerk in her mouth. Each squeeze made him writhe.

The entire time, she moved slowly, as though she was savoring his cock rather than trying to work him toward release. It was maddeningly arousing.

“Catherine… please…” He was not sure how much more he could take. It seemed as though she was content to go on this way for hours. She tugged on his sack in response, and he jerked. “Please… bloody hell… I need… I cannot…” Fuck, he could not find the words.

And he was not sure if his begging was helping or harming his cause.

She hummed around his length as her lips descended again, and he cried out, his fingers flexing, then grabbing onto the spindles his wrists were secured to.

“Catherine!”

She lifted her mouth fully, to his consternation and relief, his cock protesting at the loss of slick heat. Her dark eyes were full of desire and power as she looked down at him, hand still wrapped around the base of his cock, holding it upward for her to impale herself on.

Finally.

“You are not to climax until I say you may,” she told him, teasing the head of his cock as she placed it against her entrance, but did not lower herself onto him yet. He was at the gate of the promised land and so eager to enter, but he was also aghast at her demand.

“What if I cannot help myself?”

A slow, sadistic smile curved her lips. It made his sack want to shrivel, but his cock was too engaged, too engorged, to pay heed to the warning. His mind raced, wondering what she could do—would do—if he was unable to comply.

He was fairly certain he did not want to find out.

More than that, he wanted to please her. He wanted to give her what she wanted. What she needed.

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