Page 84 of A Frosty Flirtation
“I would.”
He moves his arm away from the back of the couch and sits up, angling his legs toward mine. He grabs a grape from the tray and holds it out toward me. “Ginger Olson, you’re my favorite person to spend time with, and every moment we spend together makes me fall for you more. Will you be my girlfriend?”
Emotion blooms in my chest, filling it with warmth.Is it love?It could be, and if it’s not, it’s close.
“Yes, I will,” I say, beaming. Plucking the grape from his palm, I shove it into my mouth and chew.
He grins back at me and pulls me into his arms, squeezing me tightly. When he draws back, he stares earnestly into my eyes. “I’m so fucking happy you agreed.”
“Me too. The grape was a nice touch.”
He raises his palms. “It was the best I could do on short notice.”
“Well, it was the sweetest one I’ve ever eaten.”
“I’m glad.” He leans back into the couch again. “Come here.”
I scoot over until I’m pressed to his side. His arm comes around me, and my head finds its place against his shoulder. I press a hand to his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my palm. With the overhead lights dimmed, the tree and mantel lit, flames flickering in the fireplace,Home Aloneon the TV, and best of all, cuddling with my boyfriend, this moment feels like Christmas magic come to life.
CHAPTER 22
JORDAN
“That movie never gets old,” Ginger says. She sits up, stretching her arms over her head. The new position pulls her sweater tight against her tits, and my mood instantly shifts fromI’m happy cuddling with my girlfriendtoI really want my face buried between her legs.
“Come here.” I reach a hand around her back, tugging her closer. “You’re too far away.”
Her full, pink lips hint at a smile. “You want me close?”
“You can’t be close enough.” My lips crash down on hers, smothering any words we might want to say. And now I can’t think about anything beyond how incredible she feels in my arms. My hands roam over her delicious curves, mapping out every delectable inch, then slide down to cup her ass and lift her up with me as I stand. Her legs wrap around my hips as I carry her to my room. Our mouths remain pressed together, even when I lower her to the mattress and settle on top of her.
Ginger’s hands slip under the bottom of my flannel, then burrow under the hem of my t-shirt, trailing over my bare skin. Having her hands on any part of me makes it difficult to think clearly, but if she’s gonna touch me, I’ll make it easy for both of us. Rising to my knees, I undo the buttons and yank off theflannel. I tug the t-shirt over my head and pull her into a sitting position.
“This needs to come off,” I say, carefully removing her sweater. She reaches behind her back, undoes her bra, then yanks the lacy item free.
My mouth goes dry at the sight of her pebbled nipples. I want them in my mouth so badly. “Jesus, look at you,” I say, my voice filled with awe. “You’re even more perfect than I remembered.” I pluck open the button on her pants, then tug the zipper down. My fingers hook into both sides, tugging the garment down her legs, which removes her socks at the same time. I toss everything aside and stare at the juncture of her thighs. The tiny lace underwear she’s wearing may be see-through and leaves nothing to the imagination, but I can’t remove them fast enough. The tiny strings on the sides easily snap when I tug at them.
Her eyes widen. “I bought these for you.”
“You look sexy as fuck in them, but nothing is better than you naked.” I yank the material free. “Christ. Are you trying to kill me?” I ask. Last time we were together she wasn’t completely shaved like she is now.
“You like?”
Pressing my palms to the inside of her legs, I spread her thighs wider and lick my lips. “I love seeing every bit of this pretty, pink pussy.” I drag a finger down to her slick entrance and back up again, spreading her wetness over her clit. Taking my time, I rub maddeningly slow circles around the sensitive bundle.
“Yes… more,” she moans.
Lowering down to my chest, I bury my face in her pussy. Tensing my tongue, I delve the tip inside her entrance and let out a throaty groan. Her taste is intoxicating, addictive in a way that makes me crave more with each stroke of my tongue. I lap at her wetness, savoring how she quivers against my mouth. Her thighstrembling on either side of my head, and the soft moans spilling from her lips urge me on.
Gripping her hips firmly, I anchor her in place and work my tongue against her clit. Her back arches off the mattress, assuring me that I’m hitting all the right spots.
“Oh God,” she gasps, fingers threading through my hair.
I hum against the bundle of nerves, the vibration making her jerk beneath me. Hooking two fingers inside her, I rub her G-spot while my tongue alternates between sharp flicks and a swirling motion.
She clutches my head, her moans turning to begging. “Please. Please. Please.”
I increase the tempo of my tongue and fingers, driving her higher until she begins trembling. She cries out as her orgasm hits, and I don’t stop. I keep my mouth on her, my fingers moving inside, working her through the waves of pleasure. Her hands tug on my hair, pulling just enough to cause sparks of pain.
