Page 21 of 3 Stolen Kisses

I come with his tongue inside me. With my eyes screwed shut, and my heart so full, and waves of pleasure crashing through my body.

Then Saxon kneels up, wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, and shrugs off his suit jacket.

“Stay there, baby girl. I’m not done with you yet.”

Nine

Saxon

You know, I thought I knew my place in the world. Thought I understood myself and my innermost cravings. Then Alison Wainwright opens her pretty mouth and calls methatname, begs me like that, and I…

Turns out I don’t know anything at all.

Because in all my thirty nine years on this earth, it never once occurred to me. Never even crossed my mind that hearing her call medaddywould be something I’d want or crave. But the second Ali whined it, the second she declared me her lover and protector in that singular way, everything changed. My whole universe flipped upside down and rearranged.

Daddy.

The title thuds through me with each frantic heartbeat, flooding my muscles, my nerves, my veins. It’s rewritten in my damn DNA, and as I lick Alison into a writhing heap, as I make her come and come and come…

I’m a different man.

Made new.

Thisman is done with stolen single kisses made okay with mistletoe sprigs. This man is done with sneaking around and feeling guilty; with worrying about age gaps and other people’s reactions. With holding back.

I’m done. Suddenly and completely past that shit.

“You’re mine,” I grit out as I shrug off my white button-down shirt, tossing it over my shoulder to join my suit jacket and tie. Alison lays beneath me on the bed, pink-cheeked and so pliant, her chest heaving and her limbs askew. And those blue eyes as they stare up at me are filled with such worship, my heart gives an unsteady lurch. “Mine, you hear?”

“Yes.” Her smile is full of adoration. Full of relief. “I’ve been yours for a long time.”

As if to prove it, she waits patiently as I strip the rest of my clothes, then lets me grab her legs and yank her further down the bed. Lets me crawl on top of her like a predator. Everything I do, every growl and squeeze and hungry grunt, makes her smile like it’s Christmas.

Which, hang on—

“Merry Christmas, Ali Cat.”

She beams as I cover her with my much larger body, my furred belly rubbing against her toned stomach. “Merry Christmas. Santa got it really right this year.”

Ha. “You’re not wrong. Wrap your legs around my waist—yeah, just like that.” Is there any better feeling in the goddamn world than feeling her soft thighs gripping me? Squeezing me? “Now hold on tight.”

Obedient as ever, Alison goes still, body rigid, holding her breath. But no, that won’t do, not if she’s tensed up like that, because I’d rather smash my head against a wall than hurt this girl. Would rather jump off a cliff than leave a single scratch on her.

“Relax, baby.”

A shaky laugh. Alison rolls her eyes. “I’m trying, but it’s scary, okay? I’ve never done this before, and you’re… well…”

Big.

Built like a brick shit house, with the monster appendage to match. I hear that.

And for the first time in my life, I wish things could be different—but this is how I’m made, and Alison ismine, and I will burrow my way inside her, by god. Deep inside her, so deep I feel the life energy thrumming through her: that’s where I belong.

But tensing up will only make things worse, so I duck down and seal our mouths together,finallykissing my girl. Finally. And it’s not a stolen peck, not a chaste brushing of lips—this kiss is deep and dirty and slow.

Ali gasps and groans. She kisses me back; nibbles my bottom lip and sucks on my tongue. And it feels so good, so hot and liquid and perfect, that my brain almost forgets what I’m doing here. How I’m trying to help her.

But my body remembers. It rocks against her, shaft rubbing along her damp, swollen slit. Oh, yeah.

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