Page 87 of A Manny for Christmas

‘You’re welcome.’ He captures my hand with his. ‘You happy?’

I nod, my throat tight with unexpressed emotion. There is a good chance I’ll have a little cry at some point this afternoon, from sheer overwhelm.

The good kind.

‘Indescribably happy,’ I tell him.

‘Good.’ His warm, firm lips brush over mine. ‘What would you like to do first?’

I know exactly what I want to do first.

‘This.’

I shrug out of my coat and chuck it on the arm of the sofa before doing the same to his. He’s dressed up for me in trousers that aren’t jeans and a pressed white shirt through which my greedy hands can feel warm skin and hard, hard muscle.

I can’t wait to get that shirt off.

To slide my face along those ridges of muscle.

To kiss and lick my way across that skin.

I cup his dear, handsome face, and I stand on tiptoe again so I can kiss him. Slow, lush, decadent kisses, because right now, it feels like we have all the time in the world to explore each other. I slide my tongue past those lips. Softly. Sensually. But when his tongue meets mine, it’s taut. Hungry.

I open wider, exploring his mouth thoroughly before I pull away.

Because it’s not his mouth my tongue has plans for.

Before he can work out what my game is and intercept me, I walk him the few short steps back towards the door and delight in the soft, satisfying thump of his body hitting wood. As soon as I have him where I want him, I drop to my knees. I need Max to know how much this means to me.

How muchhemeans to me.

I need him to know that, right now, his particular brand of caregiving and thoughtfulness and general desire to spoil me is doing it for me like nothing else.

‘Fuck, Mol.’

My gaze travels upwards from his crotch, which is exactly at eye level and already bulging impressively, over the expanse of flat stomach under white shirt, to his face. His jaw is clenched, and his eyes are burning as he looks down at me.

I whip my top off clumsily, which has the added bonus of pulling my chignon loose. Using deft fingers, I undo the plait. I know Max, and I know he’ll want my hair down for this. His fingers will want to rampage through it when he’s close to coming. I look up at him and smile. Today’s bra is a lace balconette—I’ve seriously upped my underwear game since I got myself a hot man to seduce each night—and I’m well aware that it shows my assets off to their full advantage, especially from where Max is standing.

He hasn’t taken his eyes off me as I prep myself for seductress mode. ‘You don’t need to do this for me, you know,’ he begins.

‘I’m doing this forme.’ I get the button on his trousers undone and pull down his zip with a highly satisfying sound. ‘I want to get my mouth on your gorgeous dick so badly I can’t even think straight.’

He leans his head against the door with an agonised groan in the back of his throat that makes my lady parts clench. Everything I said is true. He’s so fucking perfect—I need my mouth full of Max, and I need itnow.

32

MOLLY

Ishove his trousers down with little to no finesse and scrabble under his shirt tails to get his boxers down too. None of this looking-for-the-peephole-thingy bullshit. I want full access. To everything. Dick. Balls. The lot.

His cock springs out when I lower the waistband of his boxers.

Yes.

My mouth immediately waters. He’s hard, and huge, and smells so fuckingmale. He’s so hard, in fact, that the foreskin is taut and shiny around his shaft, his flared crown an angry red.

Woah. That’s a lot of blood flow there already. Maybe I should get the poor guy on the bed. But I’m feeling greedy. Impatient. And I know how good those drops of moisture leaking from his slit will feel when I use my tongue to rub them. Spread them.

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