Page 22 of Yours to Ho Ho Hold
I slide my palm over her firm, round ass cheek, my thumb caressing her tight hole as I thrust into her taking her deeper. She lets out a little moan and I take it as encouragement driving my cock inside her as the sound of our skin slapping fills the silence of the room.
“Does that feel good, baby? Does my little sex doll like it rough? Such a dirty girl letting Santa fuck her from behind while she begs for more. How much more do you need?” I press my palm on her lower back holding her in place as I wrap one leg around my waist to give me the deepest angle possible. I’ve got an incredible view of her ass as I drive my cock into her and pray to anyone listening, telling them how grateful I am.
“Fuck, baby, I’m close,” I hiss as I pump inside her, her walls convulsing with another orgasm as she squeals incoherently into the mattress. “Fuck, Holly. Can I finish the scene?” I ask through gritted teeth.
“Yes. Yes. Yes. Oh my God, don’t stop!” she pants, writhing through her orgasm, and that’s all the encouragement I need.
I grit my teeth as I deliver my last line, “Okay my dirty little slut, let me remind you who you belong to.”
I thrust inside her impossibly tight cunt two more times, and then I pull out, tossing my condom to the side, and spray my hot, slick release over her gorgeous back and ass.
And when she gives me that satisfied little smirk over her shoulder, I nearly collapse. Because I’ve never felt this strong of a connection with anyone, and I don’t think I ever will again.
I move to the bathroom and return with a warm wet washcloth, taking my time as I wipe her clean.
“You are breathtaking,” I say as I kiss her forehead.
She just smiles a sleepy smile. “You’re not too bad yourself, Santa.”
ChapterTen
Holly
I gripthe handle of my suitcase and try to push the images of last night to the back of my mind. What was I thinking? We weren’t even drinking, so it’s not like I can blame alcohol for my momentary lapse in judgment. No, I was high on something much stronger than alcohol. Gourmet hot chocolate, Christmas nostalgia I didn’t realize I’d forgotten, and being the object of a man’s intense obsession are much more powerful aphrodisiacs than booze.
All morning, I’ve had this pang of guilt stabbing me in the chest, but when I look at Drew and those icy green eyes that seem to cut through all my shields, I feel like there’s no use in pretending. Last night I wanted something, so I let myself have it. Now, it’s done and over. I can lick my wounds while staring at the ocean and come up with a new plan.
“Boarding pass, please?” The woman’s warm smile brightens when she recognizes us. I hand her my paper boarding pass to scan while Drew flashes his phone screen.
“Merry Christmas. You two look fresh and relaxed. I take it you enjoyed your stay at the inn?”
Drew wraps an arm around me and tugs me against him. “You know what? We really did.” My face burns with embarrassment, but luckily, I don’t think Martha’s very focused on me right now, not when Drew’s wearing that Henley that fits his muscular body like a glove. His sleeves are rolled up, revealing corded forearms, and thanks to last night, I know exactly how every ridge of his muscle feels beneath my fingertips. That memory alone is enough to make my panties wet.
Jesus, it’s 7 a.m. Calm down, girl.
“Thanks again for your help, Martha, and Merry Christmas,” Drew says before we board the small plane.
There are considerably fewer people packed onto this plane today, probably because it’s Christmas morning. Last night, we were given an option to take a shuttle to a larger airport a few hours away, but we didn’t see the message. My guess is most people opted for flying out late on Christmas Eve, so they’d be home on Christmas Day.
“Our flight’s only half full this morning, so please feel free to spread out and sit where you’d like,” a flight attendant says in greeting. Immediately, my heart starts to race.
I don’t know why I feel so awkward around Drew. I mean, so what, we had sex. He probably hooks up with women every time he travels for work. Hell, he’s a fucking romance cover model, I’d expect nothing less.
It’s just I’m not the kind of person who has meaningless sex, not to mention one night stands with romance cover models, so I don’t exactly know the protocol on how to act afterward.
Do we sit together? Does he want to sit with me? Do I want him to want to sit with me? Should I sit next to someone else so he doesn’t have to feel guilty for not wanting to sit by me?
A brush of my arm knocks me from my anxiety spiral, and I look back a Drew, who’s looking at me with a confused expression. “Are you freaking out about the flight, Hols? Because what happened last time was a fluke thing, and—”
I nod my head a little too enthusiastically, thankful for the reasonable explanation. “Yeah, sorry. Just having flashbacks, I guess.”
He places a hand on my shoulder and bends down to whisper in my ear, “I think I heard something about the safest place to sit being near the wings.”
I press my lips into a line and make my way to the aisle seat near the wing. Drew follows closely behind me, and when he takes my bag to stuff it in the overhead compartment next to his, I finally breathe a sigh of relief that he made the decision for me.
I begin fidgeting with the seatbelt, tightening and loosening it as if to get the fit just right, when Drew’s warm hand covers mine. I freeze.
“What’s going on with you today? You’ve been acting distant all morning. Are you sure you’re only worried about the flight? Are you having regrets? Because I thought we had fun?”
