Page 57 of Dancing in Lake Mistletoe

I kiss a path from her chest down to her belly button as I continue to slowly pump my fingers in and out of her.

When my mouth reaches my fingers, I spread her open, and my tongue darts out and licks. A shudder climbs up her body as I suck her clit deep.

I feed one of her legs over my shoulder to get better access, and I press a hand into her stomach to hold her steady before Ibury my face in her heat and start to lap at her like a starving man.

She pants and grabs my hair, holding me where she wants me.

My tongue finds her opening, and I thrust it in and out while my thumb runs circles over her clit. She lifts her hips to meet me as she rides my tongue.

She’s so close. I feel her walls tighten around my tongue.

I pinch her clit, and that’s all it takes for her to fall over the edge.

One minute, she’s screaming my name as she comes, and the next, she’s sinking to her knees before me.

“Your turn, Santa,” she says as she takes my cock in her hand and tugs lightly before wrapping her lips around me.

I groan as her tongue rolls around the swollen head a few times before she opens and sucks me in fully. I fist her hair as she grips my thighs. And I watch as she relaxes, and I thrust steadily in and out of her hot little mouth. Her tongue swirls as she takes me deeper and deeper.

“I’m gonna come, baby,” I warn, but she doesn’t release me.

My body stiffens, and I groan her name as she swallows every drop.

We dry off and dress, and then we walk back out into the living room, peeking into Josie’s room on the way.

Mindi takes the stockings from the mantel and begins to load them with fruits, nuts, and candy while I sneak the wrapped gifts that have been hidden away in the garage through the back door and pile them under the tree.

Once everything is in place, she helps me finish off the cookies and dispose of the carrots before we settle in front of the fire. She cuddles into my side, and her head rests on my shoulder.

Content.

“Soma offered me a job,” she whispers.

Confused, I look down at her. “A job? I thought you guys were finished?”

“We are. At least, this production is wrapped, but she’s the artistic director for Ballet Idaho, and they have a soloist position open,” she says carefully. “The company isn’t as big as my current one, but the pay’s about the same. And I, um … well, I didn’t accept it or anything.”

“Where’s Ballet Idaho?” I ask, my heart pounding against my damn chest.

“Boise,” she says.

Boise. Just over two hours from here.

“Would you have to live there?”

“Not all the time. I’d need to be close during performance season, and if I’m cast in a particular production, I might have to travel some. But they do allow for remote training and rehearsals.”

“Are you considering it?” I ask.

“Yes. I’d have to finish my contract with ABT. And give them a four-week notice to transfer. So, I’d have to return to New York until March.”

“Do it,” I say without thinking.

Her eyes go wide.

“I mean, if it’s what you want.”

“Is it what you want?” she asks.

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