Page 90 of Booked for the Holidays
“Fuck.” I push in slow, dragging her hips down until she’s seated all the way. Until she’s full and the stretch is both brutal and perfect.
She moans, her knees trembling on either side of my thighs, the fuzzy socks brushing my jeans like some innocent halo around this filthy mess.
“Eyes up, Firefly,” I pant, my palm flat on her belly, pressing just enough to feel myself inside her.
Her eyes flick to the mirror, catching the place where my cock disappears inside her, where she’s spread wide and slick and fucking perfect.
A soft gasp escapes her, and it cracks something open in me. It splits me wide with how sweet she sounds, how she grips my forearm like she’ll drown if I don’t hold her steady.
I shift my grip, palm sliding up from her belly to her chest to cup her breast. My thumb teases over her nipple until it peaks under my touch. The sight of it in the mirror is fucking obscene—her back arched, her flushed tits in my hand while my cock disappears inside her over and over.
“Look at you,” I growl, rolling her nipple between my fingers until she gasps, hips twitching helplessly. “So pretty like this. So fuckingmine.”
I drag her hips up slowly just to slam her back down again. The wet slap of it echoes soft and filthy in the warm quiet. “See how good you take me?”
She moans, her lashes fluttering as she locks on the mirror and sees my thick cock parting her. The slick mess of where we’re joined.
“That ache you feel?” I murmur in her ear, voice frayed at the edges. “That’s mine. This pretty cunt is mine. All of you—fucking mine.”
She whimpers, her nails biting into my thigh now where her hand has slipped back, clutching me like she needs something to anchor her to earth. Her other palm fists the edge of my knee, bracing herself as I rock her up and down my cock, slow and filthy, every slick slide of her making my balls tighten and my breath catch in my chest.
“Can feel you clench every time I touch you here,” I rasp, tugging at her nipple just to hear her cry out. “You like that, Firefly? You like when I play with you like this?”
She nods frantically, her hips bucking when I roll my thumb lower, brushing her swollen clit while I thrust up into her. Her cry breaks into a soft, breathless moan when I pinch her nipple again, the shiver rippling through her so sweet I almost lose it.
“Fuck, look at us,” I pant, mouth at her ear. “Look how you grip me—look at that messy little cunt, all stretched and dripping around me.”
She moans louder, head falling back onto my shoulder, her legs trembling on either side of me. Her hand grips my thigh tighter, her breath coming in frantic little gasps that send heat curling low in my spine.
“You gonna come for me again, baby?” I rasp, voice raw at her ear as my fingers toy with her nipple and her clit all at once. “Gonna make a mess all over my cock while you watch yourself fall apart?”
“Liam—oh—” She breaks apart on my cock, her nails digging into my thigh while her whole body shudders so hard I swear I feel it in my chest. It’s like she’s got her hands wrapped around my fucking heart and she’s squeezing it tight.
I can’t hold off any longer. With her pussy still gripping me tight, my cock pulses, spilling deep inside her.
I hold her there, buried deep, my hand splayed wide over her belly, the other still cupping her breast like I can’t bear to let go.My forehead drops to her shoulder, breath ragged, the air thick with heat and her soft, broken sounds.
“Jesus, Firefly,” I rasp, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to her neck, tasting her sweat and that soft, clean smell of her. “You’re gonna fucking kill me.”
She huffs out a tired laugh, her fingers sliding from my thigh to my hair—tugging, petting, threading through it like she’s piecing me back together strand by strand before placing a soft kiss to my stitched-up brow.
“Good,” she whispers, voice wrecked but smug as hell. “Someone has to keep you humble, Hargrove.”
I laugh against her skin, still high on the feeling of having her here.
She shifts in my lap, her slick heat squeezing me just right, and I hiss when she clenches, on purpose, that wicked glint in her eye when she catches my face in the mirror.
“You think you can just...keep me here?” she teases, breathless but sharp, her fingers tugging my hair back so she can make me meet her eyes. “Buy the place next door, sneak your way into my bed...my bookstore...my life?”
“Yeah,” I smirk. “It worked, didn’t it?”
She laughs. It’s soft, sleepy, and so damn beautiful it hurts.
She shifts in my lap, her fingers tracing lazy circles on my chest, like she’s trying to memorize every inch. We’re a mess—warm and tangled up, the window glass still fogged behind us. I should get up and grab something to clean us up, but I can’t help wanting to stay in this moment with her.
She tilts her head, searching my face. There’s a question in her eyes she doesn’t quite say out loud, but I see it anyway. She’s wondering if I’ll really stay. If I want to. If she’s enough to keep me here.
She doesn’t know she’s the only thing that could.
