Page 117 of Christmas off Script
Dropping his hands, he nudged her legs further apart, opened her pussy wider, then licked up her length. She gasped again, but he didn’t give her a chance to catch her breath, flicking the tip of his tongue over her clit, then gently sucking it into his mouth.
She clutched handfuls of his hair as he alternated between licks and sucks, feeling her trembling, her muscles tensing. His cock was straining painfully to be free, but he ignored it, driving her on until he felt her nearing the peak of her climax.
He raised his head. ‘What year was the first Christmas card sent?’
‘W-what?’
His heart leapt at the sight of her dazed expression.
‘Touch your breasts.’
The tangent made her look even more confused.
‘Touch your breasts,’ he repeated.
She did, her eyelids fluttering as she tweaked her nipples, her lower lip trembling.
‘What year was the first Christmas card sent?’
‘Um—eighteen forty—ah!’
His tongue dived back to her pussy, cutting off her answer as he let himself drown in the taste of her, the sweetness of her bathwater mingling with the heady, musky slickness of her arousal. Her breath was getting shorter, each inhale a gasp.
I love you. I love you. I love you Ella. He wrote the words his heart was crying onto her clit until she stiffened with a cut-off scream, her body shaking.
I love you. I love you. I love you Ella.
Her orgasm kept coming, wave after wave as he poured out his love. Then she fell forward, her hands dropping to his head.
He stood, lifting her over his shoulder, then walked her out of the bathroom and laid her carefully on the bed.
‘Eighteen forty-three,’ she murmured. ‘First Christmas card.’
Grinning, he arranged her limbs, so she was spread-eagled and open for him. He lowered his head and blew a cool stream of air over her pussy. ‘When was tinsel invented?’
She shivered, but still managed to reply. ‘Sixteen ten.’
He eased two fingers inside her, curling the tips as if beckoning her forward. ‘Year the Queen’s speech was first televised?’
‘Um… I can’t think when you—oh!’
Lowering his head, he vibrated his tongue over her clit, rubbing inside her tight channel at the same time.
‘Oh, my god! I can’t—Leo!’
He didn’t pause to ask the question again, thrumming his tongue against her as she shook beneath him, her hands flying to his head to grip handfuls of his hair.
He felt the strength of her orgasm as it hit, ripping through her body like an earthquake. Her inner muscles clamped around his fingers and he rubbed harder against her g-spot.
She convulsed, a guttural cry tearing from her throat as hot liquid gushed over his tongue.
Yes.
He kept stroking, licking, easing her down from the high until she softened and went still.
‘Leo?’
‘Yes, Princess?’ he replied, kissing her inner thigh.
