Page 170 of Nutmeg + Mistletoe
She’s speechless and I beam with pride. She likes it.
“It’s amazing, Grant. No one has ever done anything like this for me.”
“And to think,” I say, drawing from a memory from our time in Vegas. “The night is just beginning.”
She smiles, really smiles, then buries her head into my chest. “I can’t wait to see what else you’ve got up your sleeve, Mister.”
“Well, then I’m afraid you’re going to be a little disappointed.”
She looks up at me, frowning. “Why?”
“Because what comes next doesn’t require sleeves. Or clothes, for that matter.”
Her smile goes big. “Oh yeah?”
I lead her into the bathroom, my hand wrapped around hers, steadying her even though I’m the one who feels unsteady. It feels like it’s taken so long to get her, so long for her to accept what’s between us, that it doesn’t feel real. But it is. She is.
And she’s mine.
The candles throw soft shadows across the marble, the tub steaming, petals drifting on the surface like they’ve been waiting just for her. For a second she just stands there, staring, and I watch her eyes widen, her lips part like she’s trying to take it all in at once.
“You’re stressed, baby. Let me take care of you tonight.”
She nods but no words come out and I can tell she’s a bit overwhelmed. In the best way.
I go to remove her blouse, and I go slow. Each button undone feels like a vow I’m making, one after the other. My knuckles graze her skin, her pulse flickers under my touch, but I take my time. Because she isn’t something to rush through, she isn’t someone to consume and discard. She’s everything.
The fabric slides from her shoulders, pooling at her feet, and I trace her with my eyes like I’ve never seen her before. Like I haven’t memorized every line, every curve. I want her to know, in this moment, there is nothing missing in her. Nothing broken. She is whole. Perfect. Mine.
When her blouse falls fully open, lace framing her like some masterpiece meant only for me, I dip my head between her breasts. My tongue drags over her skin, slow and reverent, before I kiss each soft mound through the thin white lace. Her breath catches, her body pressing closer as though she can’t help it.
Her hands are already tugging at me, pulling the sweater over my head, her fingers brushing my chest as I shake free of it. The moment I’m bare, I reach for her pants, slipping each button loose, savoring the way her body arches into my touch. I kneel as she steadies herself on my shoulders, her fingers buried in my hair as I guide her out of her pants, and then her panties—lace, matching, already damp.
I don’t move. Not yet. I just stare. Jesus, she’s glistening for me, every inch of her begging me closer. My throat goes dry. Mydick aches. And still, I stay there, kneeling at the altar of her body, completely undone by the beauty of her.
One slow slip of my finger through her slick heat and I’m lost. I bring it to my mouth, eyes locked on hers as I lick her taste off, groaning like it’s the first meal I’ve had in days. Her moan answers mine, soft and wrecked, and it lights me up inside.
“You taste fucking magnificent, baby. So damn good,” I murmur, already starving for more.
She tries to protest, voice breathy. “The water’s going to get cold, Grant.”
I shake my head, grinning against her skin. “It won’t. It’s programmed to stay warm.”
Her laugh falters into a moan. “Good to know.”
“Now hold on to the wall for me, baby,” I rasp, my hands gripping her thighs, spreading her open. “I need to taste you some more.”
She obeys, pressing one palm to the wall while the other grabs my shoulder. She’s offering herself up without hesitation. I loop my arms beneath her legs, locking her in place, her body mine to hold, mine to devour. Then I bury my face in her, tongue first, lapping into her like a man starved.
“Shit!” she cries out, the sound echoing off the tile, raw and unrestrained.
“Yeah, scream for me, Es,” I growl, my mouth wet with her, my tongue driving deeper, circling, fucking her until she’s trembling against me. “It’s just you and me.”
And she does—screams, moans, her body grinding against my face, her hands slamming against the wall as I take everything she gives. My tongue relentless, my fingers sliding inside her, curling just right until she breaks apart with a cry, shattering in my mouth, coating me in her release.
“Good fucking girl,” I whisper against her, lips still pressed to the sweetest part of her. “So perfect.”
Eslin
