A Very Bossy Christmas - Kayley Loring Page 0,30
do it.”
“I got it.”
“No. You don’t.” I take the key card from him, slide it gently through the slot, and calmly hand it back to him. “Don’t you dare be that gentle with me tonight.”
He shoves the door open and pats me on the butt. “Get your ass in there, succubus. Now.”
I hiss at him like a cat as I pass by him, throwing my purse into the room.
He stares me down, just like he did with whatshisname at the bar.
When he shuts the door, he wastes no time tugging off his shoes and pulling his sweater off over his head, tossing everything to the floor. He is not wearing an undershirt. He is a God damn work of art.
Mentally, I am nodding and slow clapping like it’s the end of an 80s teen underdog sports movie. But my body language is very convincingly telling him that I see this kind of thing all the time. I cross my arms in front of my chest and frown. “Wow. So you have a naked torso. What else ya got?”
Seventeen
Declan
O COME, ALL YE FAITHFUL
Oh, I’ll show you what else I got, Cooper.
I start unbuckling my belt. I’m still just inside the door of this terrible hotel room, and she’s backlit by the horrible lamps, but she’s so fucking beautiful and so fucking aggravating. Standing there, with her arms crossed in front of that chest. She did as I told her to and changed out of that wicked sweater dress, but she’s still wearing those black tights and those black high-heeled boots.
“What is that you’re wearing?” I ask as I let my pants drop to the floor.
The widening eyes and the gasp, as she gets a preview of what I’ve got, is so satisfying, but I keep my boxer briefs on. She’s going to have to wait to see the goods.
She smooths down the front of that dress, clearing her throat. “It’s a wrap dress.”
“That’s the kind of dress my granny wears,” I say as I close the distance between us. Because I can’t go one more second without touching her. “How do you look hot in this?” I trace the edge of the deep V neckline with my fingertip, from her collarbone, all the way down. She shivers, and that is also satisfying.
“I look even hotter out of it.” She says it like it’s a dare. As if I didn’t already have big plans for getting her out of it. As if I’m not constantly picturing her naked, no matter what she’s wearing.
“Devil woman.” I graze my palms across her hard nipples as I reach down to grip the sides of her dress, kissing her once, and then pull the thing off over her head in one swift motion. And God damn. God. Damn. She does look even hotter out of it.
That fucking black lacy bra. Those fucking black lace panties under those fucking see-through tights. All that smooth skin. All those evil curves. I don’t have an artistic bone in my body, but I want to stick a rose stem in her mouth and then paint and sculpt her. I want to write a cheesy love song about those spectacular tits.
“Are you going to stare at me all night, or are you actually going to do something interesting for a change?”
That fucking mouth.
There’s that hint of Staten Island again.
I back her up two steps, to the dresser, so she has something to grab on to because she’ll need it. I get a good grip on the waistband of her tights and rip those fuckers apart as I drop to my knees before her. Satisfying doesn’t even begin to describe how it feels when they actually come apart, tearing down the middle and along the insides of her creamy white thighs.
“Was that really necessary?” she asks—her voice, everything trembling.
“No. But it was fucking awesome.”
Merry fucking Christmas to me!
I squeeze her ass and blow warm breath over her clit through the lace. Her arousal is evident, even before I touch her between her legs. She squeezes her thighs together so tight. I will never be able to torment her as thoroughly as she has tormented me for two months, but I will have a jolly old Saint Nick of a time trying. With the pad of one thumb, I massage her clit in small, firm circles, and she is so wet for me I could cry.
She’s whimpering, trembling harder now, trying to keep it together. But I know what the anticipation is doing