Mismatched Under the Mistletoe - Jess Michaels Page 0,29

got to her feet, trembling with certainty of what she desired, but uncertainty at what would actually happen now.

He pushed his trousers away before he caught her in his arms, dragging her flush with his bare chest as he kissed her. Skin touched skin, so much skin, and she let out a little groan at how delicious the slide was. Her hands began to rove, smoothing over his back, his sides, his chest as he kissed her. She felt a wild desire to memorize his body, so she could recreate this in her dreams and fantasies. There would certainly be many of those once this stolen moment ended.

Perhaps she should have felt guilty about that truth, but she didn’t. Not yet, anyway.

As she touched him, he was doing the same. His rough palm slid beneath one breast, lifting it as he stroked his thumb over her nipple. She broke from the kiss with a gasp and dipped her head back as pleasure ricocheted through her.

“You are magical,” she murmured.

He chuckled. “Not quite.”

She would beg to differ, but words were so hard to find as their bodies moved against each other, their hands explored with increasing urgency. The hardness of his cock pressed firmly into her belly, and she pushed against it, desperate for that moment when she would have more of him. All of him.

That seemed to tip the scales. He cursed beneath his breath and then pulled her back toward the settee. Only this time he didn’t rest her against the pillows—instead he took a seat, sprawling out as he tugged her down to his lap. He cocked her leg over his and she straddled him, her sex stroking his cock as she ground down hopelessly.

“I would love to take a lifetime to just pleasure you and ready you,” he said, his breathing sharp. “But I’m so bloody out of control, Emily, and our time is so short.”

She nodded, for she felt the same way. She caught him, stroking his length once more before she aligned his body with hers. When she wiggled down, he entered her an inch, and she gasped with a pleasure-pain combination.

“It hurts?” he asked, his brow furrowing with concern the way it sometimes did.

Seeing that familiar expression centered her in this wild moment, and she nodded. “It’s just been a very long time.”

“We’ll go slowly,” he assured her as he caught her hips and pulsed up gently, claiming the next inch. “Even though it may kill me.”

She laughed at his strangled voice and his focused expression. The ripple of her giggle made her grip him harder, and both of them caught their breath together. He surged up again, taking a little more.

The stretching pain had faded now, replaced by slick, welcoming pleasure. She squeezed his length with her inner muscles, reveling at this familiar, long-missed sensation of a man’s body joined with hers.

This man’s body. He was not a replacement. He was specifically what she wanted more than anything else in the world in that moment. When he fully seated himself deep inside of her, she jolted with renewed pleasure.

He held still, though, not thrusting, not encouraging her to do the same. He massaged her backside as he caught one breast and latched his mouth around her already hard nipple.

“Oh God,” she gasped, clutching him closer as she began to grind down. She couldn’t resist. She needed what he could provide. She would take it.

He met her strokes, lifting his hips as she lowered her own and they fell into a natural, gentle rhythm that built her pleasure back up to even higher heights than she had experienced with his mouth. She lost herself in it, riding him, focusing in turn on each part of her that sang beneath his touch.

This time when she came he had to catch her cries with his mouth, sucking hard on her tongue as she rode him out of control. His fingers pressed hard into her hips, hard enough to bruise, and she didn’t care. She wanted those marks that would remind her this had been real when it felt like a dream later.

Only when she drooped against him, weak from release, did he carefully shift her onto her back on the pillows. He pulled from her kiss, watching her face as he increased the pace of his strokes. She stared, mesmerized by his focus, by the way his jaw tightened and his shoulders shook as he took what he needed. Took what only she could provide. He