Page 25 of His to Unwrap
He kisses the side of my head. “You’re perfect.” His arms tighten around me. “But if you don’t stop wiggling on my dick, this is going to get a lot more R rated really fucking fast.”
My blood immediately heats. It really doesn’t take much with him—a look, a casual touch. A week hasn’t been nearly long enough to satisfy my desire for this man. I’m basically on the edge of being turned on at all times when he’s around.
And he knows it. And uses that fact to his advantage.
Very purposefully, I wiggle my hips again, relishing the hiss of breath he releases. “Angel,” he warns.
“We said we’re making our own traditions, right?” I pull one of his big hands from around my middle and bring it lower, down over my belly. “Maybe in our version of Christmas tree decorating, we do more than cuddle on the couch.”
“I can get behind that idea,” he growls, sliding his hand lower, down under the waist band of my flannel PJ pants. He makes a satisfied noise when his fingers reach my center. “So wet already,” he murmurs. “So soft and sweet for me.”
It shouldn’t feel this good this fast, but that’s Roman. He knows exactly how to touch me, how to control my body for maximum pleasure. He slips a finger inside and I throw my head back onto his shoulder, moaning.
But he removes his hand almost immediately, ignoring my sharp cry of protest. “You’re not coming on my fingers,” he says, sliding out from under me. He pushes me back onto the couch and kneels on the floor in front of me, already tugging my PJ bottoms down. “You’re going to come on my mouth.”
I stop complaining immediately and he gives me that wicked grin. “Such an eager girl. Get that top off, baby. I want to see your tits while I lick you.”
I do as he says, not bothering to come up with a reply, not when he’s already leaning over me, his lips sliding up my naked thighs. He grabs my knees, roughly pushing them apart, then swears at the sight of me, legs spread, pussy on display for him.
“Fuck, I love your cunt,” he grunts, running a finger through my wetness, eyes locked on my center.
“Roman,” I whine, trying to shift my hips for more contact. Hetskssoftly, pinning my hips with his hands. “You’re not in charge here, angel,” he reminds me. “If I want to look at you, I can.”
I nod feverishly. “You can do whatever you want.”
His eyes lock on mine. “You think if you say filthy things like that it will get me moving faster, don’t you?”
I bite my bottom lip. “Figured it wouldn’t hurt to try.”
He smacks my inner thigh, making me cry out, then kisses my stinging flesh. “It’s a good thing for you that I have no desire to wait to taste you,” he says. Then he does exactly that, lapping at my pussy in long strokes. I moan, trying to rock my hips, but he keeps me pinned in place, keeps me still while he feasts on me.
By the time he moves to suckle my clit, I’m already on the edge. “Can I come?” I gasp.
He looks up at me and the sight of his wild blue eyes and ruggedly handsome face between my thighs almost pushes me over. “You can come. But I’m not stopping when you do.”
Roman is always a man of his word. He makes me come twice more, his fingers plunging into me while he switches between long licks and maddening suction on my clit. I’m a writhing mess on the couch, crying his name over and over again. But still he doesn’t let up.
“I could do this all night,” he groans after my third orgasm. “You taste so fucking good. Better than hot chocolate. Better than anything.” His eyes glint at me with mischief. “Even better than candy.”
I realize what he’s hinting at a second later when I see the red and white striped object in his hand. “Roman!” I gasp.
“Keep your legs spread,” he demands, raising the dildo to my mouth. “Open baby.”
“I thought we said no dirty sex toys in front of the tree,” I say, breathless.
“Fuck that. Open your mouth.”
God, I love it when he gets bossy. I do as he says, core fluttering when he groans at the sight of my lips stretched around the toy. Once he’s satisfied that it’s wet enough, he brings it back to my center.
“I’ve wanted to see what this would look like inside you since the party.” He begins to slide it between my folds and he releases a low breath as the tip enters me. “So much better than I imagined.”
“Oh god.”
He chuckles, low and dangerous. “If I knew Christmas could be this fun, I would have gotten into the festive spirit a lot sooner.” Then he’s fucking me with the candy cane, watching in fascination as it slides in and out, his free hand coming up to strum my clit. “Fuck, Noelle, that’s so hot.”
My only response is a low moan. It’s hard to form words when he’s angling the toy to rub against my g-spot with every thrust. The sensation, combined with the way he’s rubbing my clit, turns me into a trembling, panting mess. The look on his face is what really pushes me over the edge though—a combination of lust, awe, and possession.
“I’m gonna come,” I whine, shifting away from him, almost afraid of how big the sensation is, how overwhelming. “Roman, I can’t?—”
