The Broody Brit for Christmas (Holiday Springs #1) - M.J. Fields Page 0,70
pop the button on her jeans, and she wiggles off my lap. “The door—”
I stand. “I locked it behind me.”
“The one to the loft.”
“Aww, right you are.”
I hurry to lock it, and when I turn back around, she’s pushing her jeans down her body, exposing her creamy white skin at a slow and sexy pace.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous, Red,” I say as she steps out of them, standing, exposing a dark green lacey G-string that I’m about to make a meal out of.
Two steps, and I have my shirt off, her arse in my hands, and I’m carrying her to my desk and putting her on top of it.
Her eyes widen, and she bites her lower lip when I sink to my knees, pushing her legs apart with my shoulders. She then bites her lip as I rub my stubble across her panties, and she arches her back to me.
I push her panties aside, tearing them accidentally, and then my mouth covers her. No lead-up, no tease, I dive in.
“Yes…Raff… Oh… Oh, God!”
My tongue laps at her sweet, little pussy, and I groan, unable and unwilling to hide the satisfaction I get out of tasting her. She moans, her hands fisting my hair as she pushes up against me.
I wrap my arms around her legs and spread her wider, and rub my face against her now soaked slit. I want her all over my face. I want to smell her all damn night.
She tenses as I feel her building. I shove my finger inside her, giving the come hither as I suck on her clit. It doesn’t take much more before she falls apart, pulling my hair, riding my hand, and crying out my name.
While she comes down from her high, I watch her pant. I sure as hell could watch her sprawled across my desk and be happy as hell in just this, and I’ve yet to come.
Yet.
I kiss up her body, dragging her shirt up with my teeth and uncovering her breast, making quick work of unhooking the front closure of a matching green lace bra, immediately taking her little pebble in my mouth and circle it with my tongue.
Unable to take it anymore—this self-torture of having her ready and waiting for me—I tear myself away from her perfect tit. I stand and grab her behind the knees, then pull her closer before freeing my cock from the denim constraints, sheath myself, and lining myself up. I stroke my head up and down her drenched slit and groan. As I look up, she is pushing up on her elbows to watch.
“Fucking hot.”
“Sexy,” she says, nudging forward, asking without words for my cock.
“Sexy beautiful,” I say as I slam into her.
Her hands fly up and cover her mouth, muffling her scream.
“Balls deep and still not deep enough,” I mumble while leaning down, pushing her hands away with my face and pressing my lips to hers. “Sorry, love, I can’t hold back, not with you.”
She swallows hard and nods once. “Don’t you dare stop.”
My lips still against hers. “Best pussy ever.”
I feel her smile against my lips, and I feel it everywhere.
Shopping with Nikki and Nathaniel was… interesting.
Turns out, Nikki loves to dress up. She bought several costumes while Nathaniel and I waited patiently since ours were already done, and thankfully fit perfectly.
I had nearly forgotten about Halloween. That’s how crazy I’ve been over her.
But now that I know I’ve got her—we’ve got her—I feel a hell of a lot more relaxed.
Well, I did until Nathaniel insisted that she show us what she bought while the breadsticks she’d made to go with the pasta were in the oven. She insisted Nathaniel try on something she apparently bought him without either one of our knowledge.
I’m reading news on my phone when Nikki walks into the living room.
I look up. “Oh, wow.”
I’m not sure whether to laugh or force them to change. Nathaniel is dressed as Voldemort, complete with the black robe and mask on his face. A costume I would definitely not have approved of. Nikki is dressed as Hermione, except her skirt is indecently short, and a striped tie sits loosely around her neck. She looks insanely sexy.
“No.”
“No?”
“Change, Nikki. No way. There are costumes that shouldn’t be worn outside the home and public costumes.”
“Home costumes?” My son looks at me, confused. “I don’t even have costumes for home anymore, Dad. Not since I was five and liked to pretend I was Superman.”