Page 53 of Not Home Alone

I try to guffaw derisively, but what comes out is more like purr.

“Seriously. Am I going to find sugar plum fairies dancing around in there?” he asks as he swipes up my center with the pad of his thumb.

“I think they fell asleep because they got tired of waiting,” I grit out, trying to tamp down a luxurious moan.

I know his face is between my legs because I feel the warm air of his laughter there. I brace myself for impact. He licks up my inner thigh, presses against my clit with his thumb and lavishes me with kisses in a place that has never been treated to such passionate kisses before. The way his stubble scrapes against my skin as he moves is just… And the guttural sounds he’s making as he savors me are so…

My body is coming alive. Lighting up like a Christmas tree. Filling up like that dumb snowman thing I inflated on the front lawn.

I am so mad that he could have been using his tongue to do this to me instead of making cocky comments.

So mad that there are waves of anger building and building as Grant fucks me with that demonic tongue.

No no no no no, my brain is screaming when his tongue circles and flicks at my clit. Too good too much too good.

And then my pelvic muscles are like, if you can’t handle that, just wait until you feel this, kid.

And oh, when he sucks on my clit, it’s all over for me.

The fortress I’ve built to protect myself against Grant Moody comes tumbling down after one catastrophic jolt. A new civilization will arise from the rubble and it’s going to be a bunch of dancing sugar plum fairies with glassy eyes and big, dumb blissed-out grins on their faces.

I finally realize this man is hovering over me now, one arm holding himself up, and he has two fingers inside of me. Something for me to clench around. He’s been patiently waiting for my exploded cells to reassemble into human form. I am bleary-eyed and feeling so exposed, but I force myself to look at his face.

He has the softest expression. Like he’s so grateful I received what he gave me. “You come like a goddess, Tucker,” he says, slowly pulling his fingers out of me.

I don’t want to ruin that compliment with snark, so I say, “Thank you.” It feels like I just leveled up and actually became a goddess by accepting that.

“You ready for more?” he asks. Not like a cocky asshole. He really seems to want to make sure I’m ready for more.

“I’m ready to feel you inside of me,” I say. Before I even realized those were the words forming in my brain.

“Baby, you’re gonna feel me well into the new year.”

There he is. Cocky Grant is still alive and well. Except that now I must concede, secretly, that he has every reason to be that cocky.

I slap my forehead like I can’t believe he just said that, but really, I just need to cover my face so he can’t see how satisfied I am. The bed rises when he steps off it, and I feel his absence in ways I’m not ready to acknowledge yet.

When I feel him return to the side of the bed, I suddenly sit up, remembering that I need to see this.

Grant. Standing by the bed, in only a pair of black boxer briefs. His skin is golden and glowing with a thin sheen of sweat. I can see every muscle flexing on his hairless torso. “What the hell?” I sputter. “Do you get waxed or something?”

He’s holding a condom packet in one hand, stroking his erection inside his underwear with the other. The veins in his arms and hands are prominent and magnificent. His plush lips are still gleaming with my arousal all over them. I can hardly breathe. He is, I cannot deny it, the hottest man I have ever seen.

“C’mere,” I whisper, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed and reaching for his hips. When he pulls his hand out from the waistband of his boxer briefs, I get a peek at the swirly short hairs and the head of his gorgeous cock. I tug at the waistband as I pull it down, freeing his manhood.

Mentally, I’m doing a slow clap. Physically, I can’t do much more than lick my lips and ache for him.

Well, I can do a couple of other things. I clasp my hands around his hot, shiny erection, and give it the moment of undivided attention it deserves. With my hands and my tongue. His fingers grip my hair, giving me a scalp massage.

“Baby, I can’t take much more…” he mutters, like he’s in pain.

I arrange myself back on the bed, head against the pillow, curl my arms behind my head, and spread my legs for him.

He marvels at me in silence, kneeling between my legs, rolling on the condom.

Dipping down, he kisses me, quickly, softly, as he notches himself against my entrance.

He stares into my eyes. His are so hooded and glassy. Darker than usual. He’s questioning if I’m ready again. I give a little nod.