“Leave it. It’s festive.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Would you be mad ifImade a joke about sitting on Santa’sface?”
“Only if you didn’t mean it.” I’m breathless at the thought, and his expression turns hungry again.
“I mean it.” His voice is dark as he pulls me down to kiss me. “As long as I get to be Santa.”
This whole exchange is ridiculous, and if I weren’t so turned on, I’d laugh. But our mouths are busy and our hands are pulling at each other’s clothing, and the time for chitchat and giggles has passed.
I toss my belt aside and Theo divests me of my sweater. The white trim tears and he looks horrified.
“Shit. I ripped it—”
“That’s okay, I attached it with hot glue. It was never meant to last longer than tonight.” My flippant comment activates a flood of anxiety.Theoisn’t meant to last more than one night, but what if I want more? Will my heart be torn to shreds like this makeshift costume?
“You made this?” He casts an impressed glance over the garment. “You’re so fucking creative.”
He kisses me like being creative is the most attractive quality in the world, and all traces of worry are smothered by his tongue tangling with mine.
It takes both of us to peel off my jeans, and in the process, my panties come down too. I only have a momentary bout of embarrassment before Theo is nuzzling the curve of my hip.
“I can’t wait to taste you,” he rasps, and I am overwhelmed with need.
“Do it,” I whimper. “God, Theo, I’ve been dreaming of this—”
I suck in a breath when his fingertips brush my core, and he finishes the thought for me.
“For months.” He strokes me softly, coaxing my body to open for him. “So have I.”
Hope blooms in my chest before my brain catches up. Wait a second. Did he just saymonths?
But before I can ask for clarification, he flips us again. Suddenly, my knees are on either side of his head. We maintain eye contact, which should be awkward or at the very least unnerving, but it just feels right. It feels right to look in his eyes as he uses his mouth on me, it feels right to hold his gaze as I buck against his face, and it feels especially rightto see the satisfied glimmer in those brown depths when the dam fractures and the orgasm crashes over me.
I finally break eye contact when I slump down onto the mattress. With a wolfish grin, he sits up and quickly strips off his shirt, jeans, and boxers.
He leaves the Santa hat on.
I lie in a boneless, blissed-out heap while he rummages in his nightstand for a condom.
His big frame is bulky with muscle, and tattoos spiral up his arms and across his chest. I want to examine them more closely, but later and in better lighting. He’s the kind of pale that looks like he tans instead of burns. Dark hair is lightly scattered over his chest, leading in a trail down to what is probably—no,definitely—the most impressive dick I’ve ever seen in person.
“How are you real?” I murmur, half to myself, as I eye the curve of his ass. I want to draw him, just like this, stark naked but for a Santa hat, his face still wet from my—
“What do you mean?” He stretches out on the bed next to me and reaches around my back to unhook my bra, which I’m somehow still wearing.
“You’re just ... well,lookat you.”
“No, look atyou.” He lowers his head to my breasts. “You take my breath away, Evie.”
“Oh, fuck.” I can’t say anything else when he’s using that talented mouth on me, and honestly, it’s better that I don’t. I reach for him, stroking his cock with loose pulls, and he groans against my sternum. I feel the vibration all the way through my chest cavity, and it seems to echo the pounding of my heart.
Finally, when I’m all worked up again, he shifts away from me. My breath catches as he rolls the condom down his length.
Holy shit. This is happening.
Kneeling between my thighs, he caresses my body with slow passes of his palms. “Is this okay?” he asks. “To do it like this?”
“You mean because you’re built like the Abominable Snowman and I’m the size of the Sugar Plum Fairy?”
