Page 38 of Sinning for Santa

Fuck, is her fear turning her on? Does she have a fear kink? Perhaps that’s why she hasn’t screamed bloody murder yet.

“Is your heart racing, Jaxcen? Is it pounding so wildly in your chest that you fear it might leap through your ribcage and fall to the floor? Or perhaps it’s racing so fast you fear it will stop and never beat again?”

When she nods quickly, a lazy and sinister grin contorts my face as I watch her gaze scan my features, taking in every little detail.

“Are you scared, Jaxcen?”

She shakes her head, but then nods, before shrugging, and I chuckle.

“You are scared, aren’t you? Are you scared I will hurt you?”

Slowly, she shakes her head, her gaze dropping to my lips. So naturally, I lick them and watch how her lips part as desire floods her eyes, making the blue turn almost black.

“Are you scared that I’ll make you feel good, and you’ll like it so much, you won’t ever want to stop?”

A moaning whimper passes her lips, her chest straining against mine, almost like her breasts have increased in size, expanding like they’re reaching out, desperate to be touched.

Releasing her neck, I quickly draw her blazer off her shoulders so it drops halfway down her arms. Then I spin her to face the mirror so she can see both of our reflections before I tug the blazer taut, pulling her arms back with it, effectively making her my little prisoner.

A gasp flies from her lips like she’s waking from a daze, the sudden movement snapping her out of her lust momentarily as she comes face to face with her expression that screams,fuck me please.

“Look at that woman in the mirror,” I rasp. “Look how much she wants to be touched by me. Look how much she aches for something more. Something wrong.”

Gripping her chin roughly, I run my nose up the column of her neck, inhaling her sweet, yet spicy scent, and hum.

“Fuck, woman. Why do you smell so damn good?”

A shiver ripples up her spine as she leans closer, desperate for me to do something to her. Desperate for me to step over the line she’s tried to put up, but is failing to maintain.

“I wanna watch you come undone.” I groan against her ear, and her moan is unmistakable as it fills the space of my bathroom.

Pressing myself against her arse, I move my hips to make sure she can feel my hard length. To make sure she is well aware of what she’s doing to me.

“Do you feel that, Miss Summers?” I ask, and she whimpers, her gaze darting between her own reflection, and mine in the mirror. “Wouldn’t it feel so fucking good to feel my cock sink deep into your tight cunt?”

Another whimper escapes her, and this time her arse presses harder against my length, causing her back to arch and her chest to push forward, the hard pebble of hernipples straining against the fabric of her blouse, their peaked outlines so noticeable.

Taking a step back, I tug off her blazer and then find the zipper at the back of her skirt, quickly releasing it. Even though she gasps from the sudden action, she doesn’t protest, she doesn’t try to stop me. She lets me work the fabric down over her hips, to pool around her muddy feet on the tiled floor.

Where the skirt was, I find white lacy panties. They’re not a G string but they don’t have a wide backside to them, and the globes of her cheeks peek out the sides, teasing the fuck out of me. My palm comes to her arse, rubbing over the perky globe, inducing yet another moan past her pink, plump lips.

“Do you like feeling my hands on you, Jaxcen?”

“Yes,” she whispers, almost as if she’s too scared to say the words too loud because that would make them true.

“Where do you want my hands?” I ask, catching her eye in the mirror, but her lips thin as she tugs them inwards, like she’s trying to stop herself from speaking.

SLAP!

The clap of my palm against her arse echoes through the room, and a squeal escapes her, those blue eyes wide, almost panicked.

“Answer me Jaxcen! Where do you want my hands?”

Trembling, I wonder for a moment if she’s going to stop this right here, right now. If she’s going to pull away and say ‘no, stop, we can’t do this.’ Because I know it’s going through her mind. I just know it. But then she speaks, surprising me.

“I want your hands everywhere.”

“Atta girl, little mouse.” I grin, pleased, not just from the words she spoke, but the conviction in her tone. “Take off your blouse.”

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