Page 85 of Ice Cold Christmas
His mouth pulled from hers. “You taste delicious.”
Probably the whipped cream.
“Sweetheart, you aren’t wearing panties.”
Good of him to, ah, notice. His fingers slid over her clit, and she choked out a moan.
“Baby, baby, baby…” A sigh. “I am not going to be able to hold on long.”
He had on too many clothes. “I don’t want you to hold on at all. I want you to go wild for me.”
He stared down at her with glittering eyes. “Only if you go wild first.”
Pretty sure she could guarantee that.
He kissed her again, dipping his tongue into her mouth. Stealing her breath and feeding her lust and making her arch against his hand because she wanted those fingers in her. She wanted his dick in her. She wanted to forget pain and fear and just feel the wild pleasure that he gave her.
He’d been right.
Best lover ever.
“You taste so good.” Deep. Low. Rough.
“That’s the whipped cream,” she whispered back.
He smiled at her. “Is it?” And he backed away.
Wait, why was he backing away? She needed him. “Victor!”
He grabbed the whipped cream. “Get comfortable. Spread out.”
Wait. There? On the table? “Um, should we go upstairs?”
“No, we should stay right here. Ease back, love. Spread out for me.”
On the kitchen table? Really? But, ah, okay. She eased back. Her shoulders pressed to the wood. Her legs hung off the side of the table. Her eyes locked on the small chandelier that hung over the farmhouse table. “What are you doing with the whipped—Victor!”
She’d just felt the cold spray between her legs. Her mouth opened wide, but she didn’t get to call out again because in the next breath, he was between her legs. Licking away the whipped cream. Swiping his tongue over her. Into her. Driving her to the edge and beyond, and there was no slow build up. There was just a quick, frantic frenzy as her hips slammed against his greedy mouth because he was feasting on her like he was starved. A hot, wild sexual frenzy, and she came right there, right then, rocking against him as he tasted and took and possessed her with his wicked, wicked tongue.
Her breath heaved in and out. In and out. She blinked, dazed, and tore her gaze from the chandelier. She stared down at him. His hands had slapped onto the table on either side of her. Slowly, his head rose. He licked his lips once more. “The whipped cream is good,” he said, voice thick and deep. “But you’re better.” He pulled back so that he could toss away his shirt. Victor shoved the pants and his underwear out of the way. The broad head of his dick lodged at the entrance to her body as he positioned himself against her. “Gonna come for me again?”
She had no idea. Her body was still vibrating with aftershocks of pleasure. When his dick began to push into her, she gasped because those aftershocks just hit harder.
“So tight,” he growled. “Fucking…missed you.”
“I missed you.” Maybe it seemed crazy to say she’d missed a man that she didn’t fully remember, but she had. A hole had been in her life, and that emptiness hadn’t been filled until she’d worked her way back home. She’d felt like someone was missing.
Victor.
He drove deep into her, and she had no more words. She was too lost to feeling and need and a lust that grew stronger with every deep drive of his cock into her. Her sex clamped fiercely around him. Her hands grabbed for his shoulders as she held on tight.
As tight as possible.
His hands curled around her hips. He urged her up against him, pulling her until they were sealed tightly together and for a moment, he stilled.
Her breath shuddered out. She yearned. She needed. She was caught on the edge and so ready to go over.
“Promise that you’ll never leave me again.”
