Page 17 of Home for the Holidays

Jake lays me out on his bed, looming over me. “Patience,” he says. He leans down to take off my boots, pulling the shoe free and tossing it behind him before divesting me of my sock, then doing the same to the other foot.

“I don’t want to be patient.” My hand slips down to the front of my jeans, popping the button.

He hisses between his teeth, reaching for me. He pulls me to the edge of the bed and then undoes my fly, pulling my jeans off my hips.

It’s almost time to go for another wax, the hair has grown in on my legs and on my bikini line, but with the way he’s looking at me, I don’t think he cares. His fingers curl into fists at his sides, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

Slowly, carefully, he exhales. His hands flex.

And then, his eyes on mine, he reaches for the thin band of my panties. They’re basic cotton, black with a subtle pink floral pattern.

My breath catches at the hungry look in his eyes. He peels my panties down my legs and brings them to his nose, inhaling deeply. My face heats.

“Fuck, Rachel,” Jake says, his deep voice gravelly. “You smell so good.”

I let my legs fall open with a sudden burst of confidence. “Oh? Why don’t you give it another check?”

He growls as he falls to his knees in front of me. He tosses my legs over his shoulders before he slides his hands under my ass.

And then he buries his face in my pussy.

I call out at the first touch of his tongue to me. He’s ruthless, relentless, devouring me. His tongue slides through my folds as his fingertips dig into the flesh of my ass. Jake brings one hand to my core, gathering the wetness there before slowly sliding a finger inside me.

Immediately, I clench around it. I want more. I need more.

He gets me used to the intrusion, thrusting his finger inside of me as his tongue flicks against my clit, sending a maelstrom of pleasure through me.

My hands fall to his thick, dark hair, threading my fingers through the curly strands. Oral is one of my favorite ways to get off, but I haven’t found a partner who is both willing and good enough at it.

Jake? He knows what he’s doing. And while I feel a tinge of frustration that he’s clearly done this before with other women, I’m placated by the fact that he’s here with me, and I’m the one benefiting from his experience. They’re not here in this bed. It’s just the two of us.

But how long can that last?

eight

. . .

Jake

Something is wrong, because Rachel doesn’t seem into this anymore.

Nipping at her thigh, I pull back. “Where’s your head?”

“I’m sorry,” she says, carding her fingers through my hair.

“Nothing to be sorry for. What can I do differently?”

She blinks at me.

“Open and honest conversation is the only way this will work,” I tell her. “We don’t know each other well enough yet. I need time to learn your body.”

Time that I hope she’ll give me.

Now that I’ve had a taste of her, now that I know the exquisite curves and rolls of her body, I don’t know how I’m going to live without it.

It’s simple. We’re just going to have to do this again, and again, and again, until we get sick of each other. And since that will never happen, I guess it ends when we die.

Yeah. I’m okay with that.