Page 57 of Vixen's Guide to Christmas
I let my hands trail down her arms, tracing each and every inch of her beautiful body down her sides, all the way to the dip of her hips and around the curve of her ass. When my fingers find the edge of the skirt, I gather the dark green fabric in my hands, bringing it up slowly so I can take in every moment.
Her arms slowly raise over her head as the fabric hits her midsection. My eyes go wide once I get a glimpse of the lingerie covering her body.
“Fuck…Kat…you’re…”
What even are words?
She’s a vision in a black lace, one-piece bodysuit clinging to the curves of her porcelain skin. I can’t stop staring. I don’t know if it’s because the two other times I’ve seen her like this, it’s beena beige set. Don’t get me wrong, she’s looked like a vision in those as well, but this? This is a garment made for sin…and Kat.
“This is me,” she whispers as her arms come down. “The real me.”
I reach for her and pull her in, my hands on each ass cheek. “And you’re fucking perfect.”
My lips are back on hers, hungrily kissing her as we walk back toward the bed. I know I said tonight was about not rushing. That there was no need to. That’s not a lie. But seeing her like this—tits spilling over the cups of my favorite piece of clothing ever made—I’m gone. I’m under her spell. She’s in my blood.
Right now and forever.
Kat’s hands are trying to unbutton my shirt as we fall back into the bed. She has half of them undone before I take over, rising to my knees to finish the job.
“I like this show,” she says, raising her arms over her head, posing like a fucking wet dream underneath me.
I grin at her as I unfasten my belt and rip it off of my waist. “Then you’re going to love this.”
I slide off the bed, but only for the time that I need to strip from my pants and boxer briefs. I remember to grab a condom from my wallet, putting it between my teeth to rip the pack open, sheathing myself as I watch her hand tracing around the edges of the lace.
“Pull it down. I want to see them,” I say, stroking my cock as I watch her before me. “Show me how you touch yourself.”
She doesn’t hesitate, not even for a moment. I watch in awe as she slowly takes one out, then the other. Her eyes are glued to mine as she takes a finger and places it in her mouth, only to let it pop out before she swirls it around her perfect pink nipple.
“Fuck Kat,” I groan, starting to stroke myself harder. “Pinch them. Just enough.”
Her eyes close as she follows my command, and I can tell the instant she feels the mix of slight pain but so much pleasure. Her pelvis lifts off the bed, as if she’s begging her own body to give her more. While I’d love to keep watching her, I’m aching to touch her. To taste her.
Which is exactly what I’m going to do.
“Come here,” I say, walking back toward the bed and taking both of her legs in my hands, dragging her closer. “I need to taste you.”
I pull the lace to the side, diving in like a man starved. Fuck, I missed this. I realize it’s been less than a week since I had her last, but it feels like ages. Probably because the woman has been a walking temptation since the second I saw her in the lobby. And the agony of being so near her the last two nights and not being able to touch her damn near killed me.
Well, until she rolled onto me last night. But I’m going to keep that a secret until she brings it up.
Her hands are gripping onto my hair while also pushing me in for more. I’m sucking on her clit, trying to have my mouth take up as much of her as possible. There’s not a drop I’m leaving behind. I could stay here all night—her scent is that intoxicating—but I want something more than that.
I want her.
All of her.
“There’s no going back,” I say as I move my way up the bed, my fingers now working her. “You ready, Vixen?”
She nods as she wraps her hands behind my neck. “More than ready.”
She pulls me in, a kiss so deep that I feel it in every bone in my body. I adjust myself so I can pull her leg up, wrapping it around my hip as I line my cock to her center. She’s still wearing the lace, so I make sure it’s out of my way. Yes, I could have her take it off, but she looks too fucking good.
I slide in easily, and between how tight she’s squeezing me, and the moan that leaves her mouth when I enter her, it’s enough to make me come right then and there.
I won’t. But I could.
No, I have too much that I want to do, too many ways I want to make her scream. Some of the noises she made that first night are engrained into my memory. But part of me wonders if I made them up. Did it really happen? Did the excitement of that first night together make me conjure some sort of Mandela Effect?
