Page 58 of Merry Me
I was still trembling, still trying to catch my breath, when he rose and crushed his lips to mine.
He kissed me like he’d missed it, like he was trying to memorize me with his mouth. I moaned at the taste of him, of me, of everything we’d ever been and everything we still could be…and tried to ignore how much it undid me.
“You always taste like heaven,” he murmured, his voice low and wrecked with need.
Easton shoved the Santa pants down, his erection springing free. I reached for him, wrapping my hand around his length, stroking him slow and deliberate…trying not to think about the fact that he had the most perfect dick on the planet.
“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath.
Before I could catch my breath, he growled and flipped me over, pressing my breasts against the cool surface of the desk.
Very un-Santa-like.
I tried to pretend like this room was never used and that Margaret and her husband never came back here to do paperwork. If I pretended that, it wouldn’t be so weird later on when she inevitably tried to shove a Christmas cookie down my throat.
I barely had time to brace myself before I heard the sound offabric rustling, the softthudof boots hitting the floor. I turned my head just in time to catch sight of him—gloriously bare, his body lean and strong and every inch of him tattooed into my memory already. He was still wearing the Santa hat. Of course he was.
Fuck. Forget Santa-kink. My unfortunate real kink was everything Easton Maddox.
“Hope you’ve been nice this year,” he said as he rubbed my ass, his gaze focused on where the head of his cock was pressed up against my soaked slit.
“Define nice,” I shot back, breathless.
He responded by spanking me. Once. Sharp and delicious. The sound echoed, and I gasped, the sting fading into warmth as my body responded with a traitorous rush of slickness.
“Look at you,” he rasped, dragging his fingers through my arousal. “My perfect, dirty girl. Soaking wet for Santa’s cock.”
I moaned, because I was only human, and this was extremely fucking hot.
His hands had a possessive touch as they moved across my skin, reverent and teasing all at once.
Then, a beat later, he started pushing in.
“Fuck. Wait just a sec—” I moaned, because no matter how wet I was…it was always going to be a tight fit when a cock that big of a monster was trying to get in.
It needed a warning label. Something like:Please stretch responsibly.
Easton thrust in with a growl, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth, devastating motion that had me seeing stars, stripes, and everything in between.
Count me out. I’d just been sliced in two…or at least that’s what it felt like. Had he gotten bigger since high school? Because it felt that way.
He groaned behind me, the sound vibrating down my spine. “Still so tight, Trouble. Like your body remembers I’m the only one who’s ever really filled it.”
I tried to think of a witty comeback—maybe something involving a traffic jam or a construction permit—but my brain was currently being jackhammered by pleasure.
Easton gripped my hips, his fingers digging in, his rhythm quickening, each thrust rougher than the last. The desk creaked underneath us, my nails scraping across the polished surface as he took me hard, deep…relentless.
“You can pretend this means nothing,” he panted, leaning over me so that his mouth brushed my ear. “You can lie to yourself all you want. But you’re mine, Natalie. You always have been. And I’m not walking away this time.”
His words hit harder than the thrust that followed, and I nearly buckled.
I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood, staring at a roll of Christmas-themed packing tape on the desk and briefly,seriously, considering the logistics of duct-taping his stupid, beautiful, infuriating mouth closed.
“Don’t talk,” I gritted out, already breathless. “Just?—”
He slammed into me again, hitting that perfect spot with merciless precision.
“Justwhat?” he asked, smug and wrecked and glorious.
