Page 166 of How My Neighbour Stole Christmas
“God,” she moans, her body propped up now as she repositions herself, her hands falling behind her, her back arching.
And what a fucking view.
“Jesus,” I mutter, my eyes fixed on our connection. I can see her wetness glisten. I can practically taste her arousal on my tongue. Her pretty pink clit is on full display as she rocks her hips forward.
“Oh God…oh fuck,” she says as she lifts and slams back down, causing my eyes to roll in the back of my head.
“Mother…fucker,” I grind out, because I know when she slammed back down, she clenched. There’s not a doubt in my—“Fuck!” I yell when she does it again, making me feel like she’s slamming my cock through the tightest fucking hole. “Jesus, Storee.”
She does it again.
And again.
And again, until I’m fucking heaving, my balls tightening, my legs numb…
“I’m there, Storee. Fuck, I’m right…ahhhh, Jesusfuck!” I yell as she lets out a feral moan, her pussy contracting around me, her body convulsing, sending me right over the edge as I come hard inside her.
Her body falls forward, her head to my chest, and I wrap my arms around her, holding her in place.
A few moments later, she lifts her head just enough so I can see those heady eyes. She grins and whispers, “I love your cock so much.”
I chuckle. “I could tell.”
And then I carry her to the bathroom where I help her clean up and then clean up myself. After a few seconds of silence, she finds her clothes and starts putting them on.
“Don’t like what you’re doing,” I say as I slip on my briefs and then lean against the wall, watching her snap the front clasp of her bra together.
“I know,” she answers. “But Taran’s going to start freaking out.”
I let out a disgruntled sigh. “What are you doing tomorrow?”
“Probably practicing choreography.”
“Choreography?” I ask with a raised brow.
“For the Christmas caroling portion of the competition,” she answers as she finishes putting on her shirt.
“I know, but you’re going to have choreography?”
“And you’re not?” she asks. “That seems like a mistake. Does Max know you’re not going to have choreography?”
“Yeah,” I answer. “He’s planned out this entire performance.”
“And there’s no choreography?”
I shake my head. “No, we’re going to kind of wing it like we did for the Upcycle Christmas.”
“That seems dangerous, although probably better for me if you’re not prepared.” She smirks and walks up to me, pressing a kiss on my cheek before heading down the stairs away from my bedroom. I follow her.
“I don’t think they’re going to be looking for a whole choreographed routine. I think it’s more about the caroling.”
“Well, I can’t sing to save my life, so it’s going to have to be about the choreography.”
“Are you nervous?” I ask as we make it down another flight of stairs to the main level. “You know, after everything that happened last time you were in Kringle?”
“Yes,” she says. “Terrified, actually. I’ve been dreading this section. At least with the others, I could hide behind the task, produce something to be judged. But this…this is sort of all on me. I’m being judged, and I don’t like that. Makes me extremely uncomfortable.”
“I can understand that.” I pull her hips toward me and kiss the top of her head. “What song are you singing?”
