Cast’s grin is pure, wicked promise. He releases the scarf just enough to let me breathe, his other arm snaking around my waist to keep me pinned against him. The crisp winter air does nothing to cool the fire he’s lighting under my skin.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, the praise washing over me like warm honey. “Now, let’s find our tree.”
He doesn’t let go of my hand, his grip possessive as he pulls me away from the main path of the Christmas tree farm, away from the families with their hot cocoa and cheerful chatter. We plunge into a thicker grove of pines, the scent of sap and cold earth filling my lungs. The further we go, the darker it gets, the branches knitting together overhead like a secret vault.
This is insane. Reckless.The thoughts are a distant buzz, drowned out by the roaring need he’d awakened in me thismorning and left utterly unsatisfied. Vincent had been a sweet, teasing preamble. Cast is the main event.
He stops suddenly, spinning me around and pressing my back against the broad, rough trunk of a massive Douglas fir. The bark bites through my wool coat, a sharp contrast to the heat blooming everywhere his body meets mine.
“This one’s perfect,” he says, his voice dropping to that intimate timbre meant only for me. “No one can see us here.”
His mouth crashes down on mine, not with sweetness, but with a raw, claiming hunger that steals the last of my breath. It’s been months since he’s been home for more than a day, months since I’ve felt this specific, devastating possession. My gloves are clumsy as I fumble for the buttons of his coat, needing to feel him.
He breaks the kiss, breathing heavily. “Uh-uh. My five minutes. My rules.”
His hands go to the belt of my coat, loosening it before his fingers find the button of my jeans. The rasp of the zipper is obscenely loud in the silent woods.He’s really going to do it. Right here.
“Cast…” I whisper, a final, feeble protest.
“Shhh, Angel. I’ve missed the taste of you.” He drops to his knees in the blanket of brown needles, his eyes dark and gleaming up at me. “I’ve been dreaming about this in my cold, lonely bed in Mexico. Dreaming of how sweet you are.”
He hooks his fingers in the waistband of my jeans and my underwear, peeling them down my thighs in one rough, efficient motion. The cold air whispers over my dampening skin, and I shudder violently. He chuckles, a low, dark sound that coils tight in my belly.
“Look at you. Already so ready for me. So eager.”
He pushes my knees apart, settling between them. His warm hands grip my bare hips, holding me in place against the tree.The contrast of the rough bark on my back and his hot mouth nearing my core is utterly maddening.
“Please,” I beg, the word tearing from my throat.
His answer is to lean in, but he doesn’t use his mouth. Instead, he brushes the very tip of his nose through my folds, a feather-light, torturous tease. I cry out, my head thudding back against the tree.
“So impatient,” he tsks, his breath hot against my most sensitive skin. “All this time apart, and you think I’m not going to savor every single second?”
He finally—finally—licks a long, tender stripe from my entrance to my clit. My knees buckle, but his grip on my hips is iron, holding me upright. A deep, guttural moan escapes me, far too loud.
“We have to be quiet, remember?” he says, pulling back just enough to look up at me. A devilish glint is in his eye. He rises slightly, his fingers going to the silk scarf still around my neck. With a few deft moves, he loosens it and pulls it free.
Before I can process it, his other hand is inside my open coat, sliding up my stomach, under my sweater and bra. He finds my nipple, pinching it hard enough to make me gasp. In that instant, he brings the silk scarf to my mouth.
“Open,” he commands, his voice leaving no room for argument.
I part my lips, and he bundles the soft fabric into my mouth, effectively gagging me. The scent of his cologne and the cold air is all I can smell. My sounds are now muffled, helpless hums.
“That’s my good slut,” he praises, his thumb stroking my cheek. Then his hands are back on my hips, dragging me down the tree trunk until I’m seated more firmly against him.
He doesn’t tease this time. He dives in, his tongue spearing into me with a focused intensity that has my eyes rolling back.Oh god.It’s been so long, too long, and the sensation isoverwhelming. He eats me out like a man starved, his tongue fucking me in deep, decadent strokes before swirling up to circle my clit.
The silk in my mouth is soaked with my own saliva. My moans are thick, desperate things, vibrating against the gag. I am completely at his mercy, a prisoner of his mouth and my own desperate need. He releases one of my hips, and places his large hand over the column of my throat.
The combination is explosive. The lack of air, the muffled cries, the relentless, skillful work of his tongue—it sends me hurtling toward the edge with terrifying speed. He feels it, my thighs trembling around his head.
“That’s it, Willow,” he groans, his voice muffled against me, the vibrations a exquisite torture. “Come for me. Come all over my face. Show me how much you missed this.”
The pressure on my throat tightens infinitesimally. The world narrows to the point where his mouth meets my body, to the building, coiling, unbearable tension. I shatter. A silent scream is locked behind the gag as my orgasm rips through me, a seismic wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure that steals my vision and my breath. I convulse against the tree, against his face, my entire body seizing under his relentless hold.
He rides it out with me, his tongue gentling to lapping, soothing strokes, drawing out every last shuddering pulse until I’m boneless, held up only by the tree and his strong hands.
Slowly, he releases the scarf from my throat, letting me drag in a ragged, sobbing breath. He gently pulls the silk from my mouth, wiping a stray bit of drool from my chin with a tenderness that contrasts violently with what he just did.
