Page 16 of Vixen's Guide to Christmas
He sees the glint in my eyes and moves his hand away, which I immediately replace as I take over working him from base to tip. He moans my name as I stroke up and down, loving the fact that I can barely get my fingers around him.
We keep our eyes on each other as I lower my head, my tongue coming out so I can start lightly licking around the tip. It only takes a few swirls before he throws his head back, and when I take him into my mouth, that’s it—he collapses onto the bed, losing all ability to hold himself up.
“Fucking fuck,” he growls out, his hands finding my hair. “Don’t stop. Please don’t ever fucking stop.”
I smile a little as I continue to work him, because that reaction? To me? That’s in the top-five departments of ways to turn Kat Smith on. Yes, foreplay from him—and a good fingering with a perfect execution of locating my G-Spot—are at the top. But giving a blow job? Knowing the power I feel when I can bring a man to his knees—or like now when Grayson is moaning nonsense and unable to hold himself up—that will get me going every fucking time.
I release him for a second, needing to swallow and stretch out my jaw, which gives him the moment to sit back up.
“Okay so far?” I ask as our eyes lock.
“Okay doesn’t even begin to describe it.”
I notice that his eyes are on line, but I can see the heat in them as he stares at my chest.
Oh, now there’s an idea.
“Keep your eyes on me…”
He does as I ask, his breathing picking up as I crawl onto the bed with him. He moans out something inaudible the second that I let my tongue drift over his cock, licking it like it’s the best lollipop in the world.
“Fuck me,” Grayson moans. I could stay down here all day, but this act is just a means to an end. Because just as he thinks I’m settling in, I slowly stop and crawl closer to him, placing each of my tits around his cock.
“Squeeze them together,” I tell him. “Then I’ll do the rest.”
Blazing. That’s the only thing I see in his hazel eyes as I move up and down on him as his cock fucks my tits.
“Goddamn, Kat,” he says through a ragged breath. “So fucking amazing.”
Our eyes stay locked as I continue to work him, which seems somehow more intimate than what I’m doing to him right now. Eye contact is usually awkward. Me saying things like “eyes on me” is not something in my repertoire. But with Grayson? Not only do I not want to break this stare, it’s almost if I can’t. He has a hold on me. I couldn’t look away if I tried.
“Come here,” he says, letting go of my tits as he rolls me over to my back. “Didn’t you say sharing is caring?”
I smile as he moves my hands over my head. “I believe I did.”
“Well, then, it’s my turn.”
He places one more rough kiss on my lips before he begins moving his lips down my body. If he wants to set up camp at my chest, he resists the temptation—though he does suck on each nipple once for good measure—before he moves to my center.
“Fuck yes,” I say as I relax into the bed, my legs widening as Grayson kisses around my center before making his way to where I need him the most.
Holy…shit…
My mind is going blank as his tongue starts swirling around, hitting every nerve ending with exactly the right pressure. If the headboard had bars, I’d be grabbing them right now, but instead I let my hands come down, holding onto his hair as he further buries himself into me.
I haven’t written to Santa Claus in years—ever since I was eight and I asked him for concert tickets and he brought me a karaoke machine instead—but I think, somehow, someone slipped him a note from me. That’s the only way I can think that I was gifted a man who is my kind of hot, isn’t afraid to wear a ridiculous Christmas sweater, has a dick that could literally wreck a person, and can eat pussy like it’s his last meal and he’s refusing to let a drop go to waste.
Yup. Santa is real, and I’m once again a believer.
I start to get lost in the feel of Grayson’s mouth when he adds two fingers. My back arches as he works them in me, searching for just the right spot as his tongue rapidly flicks on my clit. I was just holding onto his hair before, but now I’m about to pull it out of his head. Because between his tongue—holy mother of Jesus, his tongue—and his fingers… It’s too… I can’t…
“Fuck!”
The word is followed by a few more sounds that are unintelligible. I’m not sure. I’m also not sure what is happening to my body, because it’s shaking. Something may have exploded. All I’m sure of is that the high I just felt is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.
And if this is just one night, then I’m going to remember it forever.
But I’m hoping it’s not.
