Naughty Or Nice / A Sinful Little Christmas. Rachael Stewart
I laugh as I imagine the scene and see humour reflected in her gaze. She looks beautiful, amused, so at ease suddenly, and it warms me through. It feels like old times. When the banter was so quick to spark between us.
I smile. ‘I bet she was all for yellow—am I right?’
‘Yellow, or even blue, anything but pink.’
She shakes her head softly and there’s a silent exchange, an acceptance that we still work.
I can feel it.
And then it’s gone.
She stiffens as the mood shifts and I grapple to get it back. ‘Whatever floats your boat, I say.’
She takes a breath, visibly composing herself as she turns away to place her glass on the side.
‘You do,’ she says, her eyes coming back to me, her voice low, her eyes intent. ‘Right now.’
The swift change from light-hearted to sexual unsettles me. My eyes narrow. Is she forcing us back to sex? Taking away our connection? The personal talk?
You should be happy.
She gives her head a small flick as her eyes stare into mine. ‘Or have you changed your mind?’
Fuck that.
I’m moving before I know it.
Fuck personal. Fuck talk.
She’s in my arms, her hands beneath my jacket shoving it down my shoulders. I throw it to one side, pulling her back against me and seeking out her mouth, instinct driving me, making me forget not to kiss her. She turns away, arching her neck and offering up the creamy expanse of skin instead.
The gesture cuts deep and I scrape my teeth against her—a nip of punishment and acceptance in one—and the whimper it draws triggers a groan of my own. Christ. The series of things I want to do to her, with her, is rampaging through my brain, and my arousal strains painfully between us.
I run my hands over her dress, seeking out the fastening—a zipper, buttons, anything. It’s frustrating as hell. ‘If you don’t get this off, I swear I’m going to rip it.’
She laughs at me. The husky lilt driving me crazy.
‘So impatient…’
‘I’ve had ten years to wait for this. I call that patience enough.’
Her eyes widen as she stares up at me and she’s momentarily still.
Shit. Too much.
‘Off,’ I command, wanting her back in the moment, to forget what I said.
And she turns away to pull the escaped curls over her shoulder. ‘The zipper is concealed in the back.’
I find the fastening and slowly—too slowly for my tortured cock, but too quickly for my struggling control—I lower it, exposing her exquisite skin, her spine that I want to trace with my fingers, my lips, my tongue. Goosebumps prickle where the fabric parts, calling to me, and I press a kiss to the nape of her neck, breathing her in.
‘You are beautiful, Evangeline.’
She shudders on a breath, turning her head so that I’m on the periphery of her vision, her lashes low, her forbidden lips parted. The zipper stops over the curve of her bare arse and I remember her thong sitting pretty in my pocket. I smile. She went to dinner like this, bare and exposed, thanks to me.
And then all sane thought leaves me as she slips the dress from her shoulders and it pools at her feet. Her perfectly round cheeks are exposed to my hungry gaze and I can’t breathe, can’t move, can’t believe.
Her eyes lift to mine above her shoulder. ‘Are you just going to stare?’
‘I’m savouring.’
Engraving this moment in my memory, worshipping it—you, Evangeline.
I reach out to smooth each mound and she curves into my touch, her teeth biting into her lip.
‘Please, Lucas, I want you now. You can savour later.’
Later? How much later? In an hour? Two? A day? A week?
I don’t pose the question; the answer is too depressing.
And if I only get to be inside her once, I’m going to make it the best she’s ever known.
I bow my head into the curve of her neck, my lips gently brushing her skin as I say, ‘Now who’s impatient, hmm…?’
I grasp her hips and pull her back against my clothed erection, relishing the moan she gives in return, the feel of her cheeks cradling my arousal. And when I release her to trail my fingers up her sides she doesn’t move away. She stays curved against me, her palms planted on the cold white countertop as she pushes into me.
I lift my lips to the edge of her ear. ‘What would your parents say to you fucking in their kitchen?’
She whimpers—she likes my dirty talk. I know it and I love her for it.
Enough with the love!
I focus on my hands. I want to touch her everywhere, claim her everywhere, coax out every sound of ecstasy she’s capable of making. I stroke along her back and unclasp her bra. The nude lace obediently falls open, the straps landing loose down her arms before I encourage them off. Her breasts fall free. I can’t see them, but knowing they are there, waiting, has me aching, painful, desperate.
I trace the curve of her waist around to her belly, higher… I stroke beneath the curve of her breasts, feel their weight shift as she writhes.
‘God, Lucas, please.’
I grit my teeth against her heated plea, feel my control fraying as I rotate my palms and surround each breast. I shudder on my own breath even as I feel her do the same, feel her hardened beads pressing into my palms. I roll her nipples between my thumbs and forefingers, making them harder, prouder, feeling the tautness in the ripples that surround them.
Just perfect.
Perfect and mine.
For now.
I pinch them tighter and she inhales sharply between her teeth.
‘God, yes.’
‘You like that?’
My voice is strained, my balls heavy. I’m so close, and I know she is too.
‘Yes…’
It’s practically a hiss as she leans back, her body arched. Her bra hits the floor as she flicks it away so she can raise her hands to my neck, and I do it again and again, making her writhe. Her naked body against my clothed one. It’s one hell of a contrast and it’s pushing me over.
I’m tempted to make her come like this. It’s clear she would. But I need to feel her—feel her wetness, the evidence of her need.
I trail one hand down her belly and she sucks her tummy in.
‘I can’t get your pussy out of my head,’ I tell her, kissing her shoulder. ‘The way you taste…’ I nip her skin. ‘The way you move…’ She claws my neck as I cup her and her legs shift apart, granting me all the access I need. ‘The way you’re wet just for me…’
I move, sliding my middle finger in deep, and pull back until her clit is beneath my fingertip. Slowly I rotate it over her and she whimpers, the noise sending my balls heavenward. The smooth undulation of her hips is pushing my release and I grit my teeth.
Not yet.
