Page 42 of Home for the Holidays

Rachel lets out a barely audible whine.

“Touch yourself. Touch yourself while you suck my dick.”

Her hand dives between her legs. I can barely stand it as she slides two fingers inside her pussy. She pulls them out, then sinks them in again, and when she withdraws a second time, I can see her glistening.

“Change of plans,” I announce.

She makes a questioning noise.

Reaching for her, I pull her off my cock and grab her by her shoulders to get her up to my level.

And then I go to work.

Maneuvering her to her back, I dive between her legs, throwing them over each shoulder before I feast myself on her pussy. My fingers slide easily inside her tight, wet heat. She tastes absolutely delicious, salty and musky and so, so perfect. It’s like she was made for me, or I was made for her, or both. I could do this for the rest of my life.

And I will. Happily.

My pace is furious, my mouth relentless as I work at her. A fresh burst of wetness erupts on my tongue and I groan at her taste, increasing the force of my fingers inside her.

Rachel’s hands slide into my hair, pushing my face closer. Her hips rise, trying to meet me.

With my forearm, I bear down hard on her lower belly above her pelvis, keeping her where I want her.

She comes with a cry, her walls fluttering around my fingers.

Bringing her down slowly, I adjust my pressure and pace without retreating all the way. It’s only when she tugs on my hair that I crawl up her body, kissing my way up to her lips.

She’s waiting for me, wrapping her arms around me. “That was…”

“Good?”

“More than good.” She’s breathing hard, too. “Freaking fantastic.”

A pleased smile blooms over my face, and as I lean down to kiss her, she runs her hand over my cheek. I nuzzle into the contact instead, seeking her affection. She gives it freely.

There’s never any hesitation with her, not when we’re like this. It’s like as soon as she was over the mental hurdle, she gave herself freely to this. To us.

Rachel inhales deeply, then rolls away. I sling my arm around her waist, holding her close.

“Where’re you going?” I murmur. My cock aches, my stomach tight at the thought of her leaving.

“Nightstand.”

Releasing her, she crawls across the mattress to the bedside table, pulling out a condom and tossing it to me. As I roll it over my length, she returns to my side and gets on her hands and knees.

I like to see her face when she comes, but I know she also likes when I blanket her body with mine, surrounding her. She likes to sleep with me half on top of her, too. I don’t understand how it can be comfortable, but she’s made clear it’s her preference, so I’m going to give her what she wants.

That’s all I want. For her to have everything she wants.

Notching my cockhead at her entrance, I wait for her to take a deep breath and exhale before I slowly push inside. She’s so freaking tight, absolutely perfect, like she was made for me. It’s my turn to take a deep breath before I erupt. I want to make this good for her.

Exhaling slowly, I drape myself over her back and wrap my arms around her. She covers my hand with hers, holding me to her.

And then I start to move with short, shallow thrusts. Rachel lets out a soft sigh and lets her head hang low. She arches against me, meeting each thrust.

Each time I pull out and slide back in, my heart gives a loud thump in my chest.

Rachel lets out a low groan, and as her walls start to flutter around me, gripping me so tightly I nearly black out, I let loose my control. It takes another three, four thrusts before I tip over the edge, pleasure barreling into me like a freight train.