Page 62 of Knot what I want for Christmas
“It’s Christmas.”
“And you’re a softie.”
“Sweetheart,” I growl, finding the hem of her sweater again. “I’m definitely not soft.”
“Thank all the Christmas elves and angels for that!”
“Can I?” I ask, tugging at the hem of her sweater. She nods and I pull it over her head, gently to allow her to thread out her arms, ensuring her chin doesn’t snag on the head hole or her hair catch in the fabric. She has another top underneath as if she’s a gift I get to unwrap. I lift this one over her head, finding a camisole underneath this time.
“How many layers are there going to be?” I growl, making her giggle.
Fortunately, the camisole turns out to be the last because when I remove it, I finally find a bra – Christmas red with a sprigs-of-holly design.
“And you had the audacity to criticize my sweater,” I tut. “Do you always wear underwear that matches your name?”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
“I never thought brown was a good look for underpants.”
She giggles again. “It’s just my Christmas bra. Don’t you like it?”
“Like it, I fucking love it. I’d love it even more if it was decorating the floor.”
She rolls her eyes because I bet the girl has heard that line more than once, especially as she has the most spectacular pair of tits known to man, a pair I can’t help groaning at when she unhooks her bra and tosses it away.
“Fuck,” I mutter, “can I?” I stagger toward her, arms outstretched. She nods and I take those perfect tits in my hands – soft and round and voluptuous. My cock strains in my pants and I can’t help but lean down and bury my face between her breasts, soft against my cheeks and swimming in her scent.
“I’ve wanted to do this from the moment I met you.”
“You mean when I sneezed all over you,” she says with a ton of sarcasm, ”and covered you in snot.”
“When you sneezed and it made your tits jiggle in a way that fucking short-circuited my brain.”
“Oh,” she says, “is that really a thing?”
With difficulty, I extract myself from her tits and roll back up. “It is a very big thing. When your tits jiggle – when your ass jiggles too - it does things to me.”
Her gaze flicks down to where I’m straining in my pants. “I can see.” She arches an eyebrow, then to my absolute delight sheshimmies her shoulders cheekily, making her tits bounce. My cock twitches.
“I need a closer inspection,” she says, “to see if that did have the desired effect.”
“I’m assuming you want to take a look at my cock, sweetheart.”
“For science reasons, obviously.”
“For science.” I take a hold of my belt and start to unbuckle it, and, fuck me, this girl is perfect because the little thing actually licks her lips greedily. But then she seems to change her mind.
“Stop,” she says. My hands freeze mid-motion. I’m an asshole – I know I am. But I know where the line sits between an asshole and a creep. I have a little sister. Consent is important to me and if she isn’t in to this, if she wants to stop at any moment then–
“Let me do that, please,” she says.
I can’t help smiling, relief flooding through my over-stimulated body. “Be my guest.”
She doesn’t take a hold of my belt, instead she tackles my sweater first, lifting it over my head, and then my shirt, threading each button through its corresponding hole until the thing hangs open. It seems to take an eternity. I’m desperate to feel her hands on my body. I’m desperate for her touch.
She yanks the shirt down my arms and peels my thermal tank top over my head. Then she simply stands and stares, her hot gaze running all over me, so hot it’s as if I can feel it against my skin.
“Jeez,” she mutters, “pecs like those should be illegal.” Her eyes flick up to meet mine. “Can you make yours jiggle?”
