Big Man for Christmas - Penny Wylder Page 0,26

me that you’re bad at this. It’s taking all my willpower not to grab your hair and fuck your throat just so I can have more of your mouth.”

I watch as Carley’s eyes darken at the suggestion. But I also see her shoulders drop in relief. That bastard made her think that she was bad at this. Fucking hell.

She touches her lips to my skin again, and I close my eyes. The sound that’s pulled from me is completely unconscious. I can’t even think while she’s touching me like that. All I can think about is the way she’s making me feel.

And then her lips touch my balls, and I almost lose my shit. Carley sucks them into her mouth, slowly focusing on one and then the other before bringing her mouth back to my tip and sucking it down. My vision goes white, and I’m going to come, but not like this.

Reaching down, I haul her up my body so we’re face to face. “Your mouth is amazing,” I tell her. “And I want so much more of it. But right now I need to be inside you. Need to come inside you again.”

“Yes,” she breathes.

I flip her onto the bed so she’s beneath me, face down on the blankets. She arches up into me, and I match every piece of me with her. Limb for limb until I’m covering her body. And I take her.

Entering her again, I realize I could get addicted to this feeling. The heat and the pliable tension in her body. The way she grips me as I push in deep. The way she moans as I stretch her.

I put my hands on her wrists and pin them to the bed as I move. Slowly. Firmly. Long, even strokes that make her shudder. Carley’s fingers flare outwards, grasping at nothing. Her ass is pushing back up into my hips, begging me for more even as I give it to her.

I keep myself as close to her as possible, lips at the nape of her neck. “You are so fucking beautiful, you know that?”

Carley makes a noise in response, but it’s not words. Not real ones.

“I’m so fucking happy that you’re here in my bed. I’m so fucking happy that you heard me sing that song. This is everything I ever imagined.”

The words are flowing from me so smoothly, so quickly, I’m hardly even aware that I’m saying them. But I need to get them out and she needs to hear me say them. I’m still fucking her, almost brutally.

“Nothing he ever said to make you feel like you were less is true. Because you’re perfect for just being who you are.”

She shudders again, writhing underneath me, and I ride her harder. We’re fucking into each other, each movement bringing more and brighter pleasure to each of us. Carley is moaning with every thrust of my cock and lightning is growing at the base of my spine.

I move my hands so our fingers are tangled together, my lips against her ear. “Come with me.”

She does. Her cries are muffled into the pillow, but she comes, pussy locking down on me, shaking with her climax, and I let myself go.

The lightning races down my spine, and I come harder than I have in my fucking life, face buried in Carley’s hair. I can smell her, apples and warm sugar. Perfection.

This is the best I’ve ever felt. In my life. I can’t think of a time when I’ve been happier or more content. I slide off her, pulling her with me so she’s still close. We’re both boneless and spent, breathing deeply.

“I could do that for the rest of my life,” I say, already fading into sleep, wanting to chase this feeling forever.

9

Carley

Casey is asleep behind me. I feel him fade, his body relaxing around me. Easing. I love the feeling of lying against him, that heat pouring into me like melted butter over my skin.

This is so good. I’ve missed feeling like this. It’s been a long time since Tyler held me at night, usually kissing my forehead and rolling away. I crave this closeness and the way his arm is casually thrown over my hip, making sure that I don’t move away.

But even though the orgasms and sex leave me wanting to fall asleep in his arms, I can’t get his sleepy words out of my head. “I could do that for the rest of my life.”

I hate the panic that claws at my throat