Page 82 of Booked for the Holidays
He fucks me with his fingers, then seals his mouth over my clit, sucks hard—just once—and I break. My hips arch up into him, thighs trembling as I cry out, the world dissolving in a rush of heat and his name on my lips.
He keeps licking me through it, coaxing every last shudder, groaning like he’s the one being wrecked. When I finally collapse against the bed, boneless and trembling, he lifts his head. His mouth is slick, his grin pure sin.
“Perfect,” he rasps, kissing my thigh, my hip, my belly as he crawls up over me again. “So fucking perfect.”
I can taste myself on his mouth when he kisses me, and I moan into it, half-wrecked, fully his.
“Birth control?”
“I get the shot.”
His eyes flash, a dark heat mixed with something that knocks the breath out of me. He presses his forehead to mine, voice low and rough.
“Good. I want you bare. Nothing between us. Nothing keeping me from feeling every fucking inch of you.”
A shiver races down my spine, but there’s a flicker of worry. Not fear, just reality.
“But…have you?—"
He cuts me off with a kiss that’s more of a promise than anything he could say. When he pulls back, his eyes are soft but searing.
His head shakes as he huffs a rough laugh, brushing his thumb over my lips. “I haven’t touched anyone since the night you kissed me. I couldn’t. No one’s you, Firefly.”
My heart does something reckless. “Oh.”
His grin is pure sin and sincerity all tangled up.
“Yeah. Oh.”
Then his mouth is on mine again, devouring, worshipping. And when he pulls back, his next words punch straight through my ribs.
“So, bare, baby. I want every bit of you. And I want you to feel every bit of me.”
I nod. I’m already in too deep with this man. At this point, all I can do is savor every moment. Enjoy the free fall because there’s no safety net. Dive in headfirst with reckless abandon and hope I’ll be able to pick up the pieces later.
Then I feel him, hot and hard, nudging at my entrance. He pauses, searching my face—eyes dark, voice ragged.
“You ready, Firefly?”
My whole body answers before my mouth can. I nod, breathless, drunk on him. “Please.”
His grin turns feral as he pushes forward, just enough to make me gasp—and then he leans down, lips brushing my ear.
“Good. Now you’re gonna take every inch.”
I feel the first push of him, careful but insistent, and I gasp into his mouth. My fingers clutch at his shoulders, nails digging in. He pauses, forehead pressed to mine, breathing hard, voice rougher than I’ve ever heard it.
“God, Juniper…so fucking tight for me. You feel that?” His hips roll forward, a fraction deeper this time. I gasp again, the stretch sharp and delicious.
“Relax for me, baby,” he growls, kissing the corner of my mouth, my jaw, my throat.
I do. Or at least I try.
“Fuck—look at you,” he whispers, pulling back just enough to watch my face as he sinks deeper. “So pretty when you’re split open for me. You know how long I’ve wanted this? Wanted to ruin you for every other man?”
My breath hitches at the words. Dirty. Raw. Him.
I shiver. The filth in his voice mixes with something possessive. It makes my thighs clamp tighter around his hips, drawing him closer, deeper.
