Page 93 of Booked for the Holidays
My eyes snap to him. I’ve never had this conversation with a man before. What I enjoy in bed has never been broached as a topic of discussion. I’ve been content to keep those desires and fantasies to myself, never fully indulging in howbadI want them.
But here’s Theo, talking openly and laying it all out there for me as I rock back on my knees, close to crawling the distance to him.
“That’s… that’s good,” I say.
“I’d say so.” He takes two steps toward me, the water from the shower running down his back, over his shoulders. Across his chiseled chest and stomach. My pulse spikes, a flurry of heartbeats I can hear in my ears. He brushes his head against my lips and I open greedily.
I lick his shaft, from base to tip, grinning against the skin as I feel a tremor course through him. I hear him moan, and I let him wrap my hair around his wrist and pull. Hard. My head tilts back to accommodate his size, hollowing out my cheeks until he hits the back of my throat. Tears spring to my eyes, and Theo reaches out, thumb wiping them away.
“So pretty,” he murmurs. “You on your knees might be my favorite sight.” Another tug to my hair stretches my neck back further. “Watching my good girl take me all the way down is a fucking treat. Look at me, Bridget, so I can see you swallow every drop I give you.”
I hear the two words I love the most.
The two words I could combust from alone.
Good girl.
But I hear the word before it, louder.
My.
His.
It spurs me on. I look up, staring into his eyes. I don’t blink. I don’t gag. I don’t falter as I bring my hand to join my mouth, moving in tandem. It’s not perfect. It’s sloppy and out of practice. Saliva slides down my chin, catching in the hollow of my throat. Tears stain my cheeks. But I’ve never felt more beautiful. Morepowerful. Theo watches me like I hung the moon, lust and longing, tenderness and promises behind the look.
I work him to the brink through twists of my hand, light grazes of my teeth, laps of my tongue, wanting to make him feel as good as he made me feel. He pulls my hair in warning and I ignore it, guiding him to the back of my throat. I taste the saltiness seconds later, coating my throat. I swallow the remnants down, not spilling a drop. And when I pop him out of my mouth and wipe my lips, Theo hauls me to my feet.
His kiss is bruising, claiming. Marking me ashis. We stay intertwined for hours, days, maybe, until his hands find my cheeks and he eases away, nose brushing against mine.
“I think,” he starts through a breathless pant. It’s low and husky. Pleased. “I think you might be an actual angel.”
“I think you might be out of your mind. First blowjob in years will probably do that to you.”
He tips his head back and laughs, magical and light. The groans and grunts of pleasure are nice, butthat.That right there will forever be my favorite sound. “Let’s get cleaned up and head to bed. I don’t have another round in me, but I want—”
“Yeah,” I interrupt. He doesn’t need to finish the sentence, because I know. “I want, too.”
Theo’s smile is drowsy. Lust-ridden. Happy and exhausted. Forme,because ofme. And I think, in this moment—in all the moments—he’s never been more perfect.
THIRTY-SEVEN
BRIDGET
“Arewe keeping our hands to ourselves tonight?” Theo asks from the driver’s seat. His palm is on my thigh, thumb rubbing small circles over the thigh-high stockings I’m wearing, half-distracted from the road. I nudge his side when he stares at me for too long.
We’re driving out to the farm where the holiday hayride is, forty-five minutes away. Through some serious finagling and messages with Lucas where Theo offered to do his laundry, we ended up in a car alone together.
“Eyes on the road, pal,” I say. “It would probably be for the best, unless you’re ready for an interrogation.”
“You’re right. Mouths shut.”
“Until we get home,” I amend.
Theo groans and he pinches the top of my knee. “Not helping, Boylston.”
When we park the car, we keep a foot of distance between us as we approach the group. With a quick tap to my lower back and a brush of his shoulder against mine, Theo and I go our separate ways. I join Chandler and Brooke for hot chocolate. He and some of the guys play a game of touch football while we wait our turn. I sneak a glance at him from across the field, and find him looking at me, too. I giggle and take a sip of my drink, brushing off Chandler’s question about what’s so funny.
The sun has set by the time they call our name. It’s cooler now, and I shiver as we walk toward the tractor parked out in a field. Christmas lights bejewel the orange groves along the way. Plastic snowmen and reindeer are set up in various scenes and displays.
