Page 40 of Mistletoe Masquerade
His strong hands squeeze my thighs. “Was tryin’ not to rush things,” he says through gritted teeth, his eyes glued to my breasts.
I slowly wiggle my chest back and forth. “Think that ship already sailed, baby.”
“ThankChrist.” Dean grinds his quickly swelling shaftagainst my center, then gently takes one end of the ribbon between his teeth and achingly slowly pulls it a little loose. He doesn’t undo the bow, just tests to make sure it’s not purely decoration. “Best damn gift I’ve gotten in years. In fact, I’d like to admire it fully. Stand up.”
The husky drawl of his gravelly voice is music to my ears. I eagerly do as he commands. Dean doesn’t move a muscle. He remains leisurely lounging on the sofa as he peruses the landscape of my body.
“Show me all of it.”
I slowly slide my lounge pants over my hips and down to the floor, exposing matching panties with red ribbon that ties on either side.
A masculine rumble of approval vibrates from deep in his chest as though he’s a hungry lion surveying a herd of plump wildebeests. When he’s finally ready, he rises to his feet with predatory grace.
I love the way he towers over me. So strong and confident. So controlled.
He tosses the Santa hat on the sofa and lifts his shirt over his head.
“The hat stays,” I tell him, smirking.
“Youarea naughty girl, aren’t you?” He closes the distance between us and plants a sensual, languorous kiss on my lips. “Don’t. Move,” he says when he pulls away.
I watch raptly as he crosses to the gift wrapping supplies I have stashed in a bag on my kitchen table. I should have cleaned more before he came over, but maybeit’s best he knows what he’s getting into because neat and tidy, I am not. I believe chaos is like glitter—a pain in the ass to clean up, but worth the mess to have a little sparkle in life.
When he returns, he’s got a spool of white curling ribbon and a pair of scissors in his hands.
“Hands behind your back.”
My entire bodythrums with excitement as he ties my hands together. Yet again, he walks away. This time, he goes to my Christmas tree and takes a candy cane from its branches. He then returns to trail the plastic-coated rainbow candy over my skin. He starts at my shoulder, down my arm and across to my belly before teasing along the edge of my panties. Then lower.
My heart skips a beat.
“Does my girl want a sweet treat?” He slides the hooked portion of the cane over my slit with only the sheer fabric of my panties between.
Diamonds have nothing on my nipples as they pebble impossibly hard with the need to be touched.
As if he knows, Dean takes the hooked end of the candy cane and flicks it over each taut peak. I gasp and press my chest forward, desperate for more. Every touch coaxes a storm inside me, but not enough to take my body where it wants to go. And he knows it. He’s enjoying my delicious torture, so I decide to give a little in return.
I drop to my knees and look up at him imploringly. “Please, Santa. Can I suck your cock?”
Dean groans, and his abs flex. “That mouth, Sachi. How is it so sweet yet so filthy?” He frees himself, taking his engorged shaft in his fist and squeezing. “Show me what that beautiful mouth can do.”
His free hand cradles the back of my head as he feeds himself to me, careful not to choke me.
He tastes so dang good, I’m ravenous. I lick and suck my man-dy cane like he’s made of pure sugar. And when I hum with satisfaction, he lets loose a guttural moan, then pulls free of me.
“Enough,” he barks savagely. “I want to taste you coming on my tongue.”
He rips the ties from my wrists, then tugs the ribbons on my panties until the thin fabric falls to the floor. Once he has me on my back on the sofa, he hovers over me, untying the final bow between my breasts with his teeth.
“God, Dean. That feels so good.”
He sucks my breast into his mouth, rolling his tongue round and round my nipple. My thighs squeeze with the need to fill myself—with the need for some sort of friction—but his giant body is in the way. Thankfully, he shows mercy and lowers himself to my core, where he begins to feast.
The man is seriously gifted. He has me hurtling toward an orgasm in no time. With my hand clenched in his hair, I scream my release. Wave upon wave of ultravioletbliss radiates through my body while Dean milks me of every last ounce of pleasure.
Once I return to earth, he kisses a path up my body as I recover. I’m only partially aware when he raises my legs to fold me in half. I am fully on display for him. He drinks in the sight with my ankles in his hands, then trails the head of his warm cock over my sensitive flesh.
I hiss and writhe, though I can’t move much in this position. When he finally sinks inside me, I feel like I’ve come home. Like everything is right with the world and life is perfect.
