Iris keeps talking like nothing happened, but my whole mind is spinning.
“Iris, I got to let you go,” I moan out.
Heaven hangs up, a satisfied smile on her face. She turns to the cocoa mug still steaming on the counter. Without breaking eye contact, she slides the soaked candy cane into the dark liquid like a stir stick. My cum melts off in thick white ribbons. She stirs once, twice, then lifts the mug to her mouth.
She drinks.
Slowly. Deeply. Her throat works as she swallows, eyes never leaving mine. A bead of cocoa mixed with me clings to her bottom lip; she chases it with the candy cane, tongue curling around the hooked end, licking it spotless with soft, obscene moans. She sucks the entire length into her mouth, cheeks hollowing, throat bobbing, until every trace of me is gone.
Then she pulls it out with a wet pop, licks her lips, and smiles that sweet, dangerous smile.
“Tastes like Christmas,” she says, voice husky. “Tastes like you.”
I cannot move. Cannot breathe. My pussy is still clenching around nothing, thighs soaked. All I can do is watch her take another slow sip, tongue chasing the last melted stripe of peppermint and me, and know I am completely, utterly hers for the holidays.
Heaven steps closer with a candy cane in her mouth. “Open your mouth.”
I open my mouth and lick the candy cane.
Heaven’s eyes darken before she smirks.
“I will be back with something to clean up,” she murmurs, then turns away like she did not just ruin my entire nervous system.
I am still in awe.
Still trying to breathe.
What time is it?
I look around for a clock in the kitchen, then see Heaven’s phone on the counter. I grab it without thinking.
A text message flashes on her screen.
Maybe Wifey.
What the fuck?
I set the phone down immediately.
It does not even cross my mind that Heaven might not be single. Maybe it is her best friend or something. I call Dayana my wife all the time.
Biting my nail, I tap the screen again.
Two missed text messages from “Maybe Wifey” pop up.
I miss you so much. Come back home.
I need you, baby.
(photo attachment)
I do not have to open it to know exactly what kind of photo it is.
My stomach drops.
And just like that, reality walks into the room, completely uninvited.
Of course I would fall for someone who is not available.
