She’s wearing red lingerie. Deep crimson lace that matches the fire of her hair, the bra sheer enough that I can see her nipples pressing against the fabric, the panties nothing more than a scrap of lace sitting low on her hips.
The firelight plays across her skin, painting her in shades of gold and amber, and she looks like something out of a dream sitting in my lap, snow falling outside the windows, flames dancing in the hearth behind her.
“You like it?” she asks, a hint of uncertainty beneath the teasing. “I bought it for you.”
“Emma.” I run my hands up her sides, watching goosebumps rise in my wake. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
Her breath catches at that, her eyes darkening. “Theo, I’m all yours.”
I pull her down for a kiss, groaning into her mouth and grip her ass, pulling her harder against me, and she gasps.
“I love you,” I murmur against her lips, because I can say it now. Because I want to say it a hundred more times tonight.
“I love you too,” she whispers back. “Theo, I need you inside me. Please.”
“Then let me take care of you.” I lift her easily, turning us so she’s lying back on the couch and I’m hovering over her. She looks up at me, her red hair spread across the cushions like flames, her chest heaving in that crimson lace.
I lean down and kiss her neck, her collarbone, the swell of her breasts above the lace. She arches into my touch, her fingers threading through my hair, soft moans falling from her lips as I worship every inch of skin I can reach.
I reach behind her and unclasp her bra, sliding the straps down her arms and tossing it aside. Her breasts are perfect, pale and full, her nipples already hard and flushed pink. I take one into my mouth and she gasps, her back arching off the couch, her fingers tightening in my hair.
“Theo,” she breathes. “Yes.”
I take my time with her. Kissing and licking and sucking, moving from one breast to the other, savoring every sound she makes. She’s writhing beneath me now, her hips rocking up against nothing, seeking friction she can’t find.
I kiss my way down her stomach, hooking my fingers in the waistband of those red lace panties. I pull them down and toss them aside and spread her thighs, settling between them, and just look at her for a moment.
She’s already soaked. Glistening in the firelight, swollen and pink and desperate. I lean down and press a soft kiss to her inner thigh, and she whimpers.
“Theo, please. Stop teasing.”
I smile against her skin and lick a slow path up her thigh, stopping just before I reach where she wants me. She makes a sound of pure frustration and her hips buck toward my face.
“So impatient,” I murmur, my breath warm against her pussy.
“You’re being mean,” she pants, and there’s that bratty edgecreeping back into her voice. That spark of defiance I love so much. “I thought you were going to take care of me.”
“Iamtaking care of you.” I press another kiss to her thigh, deliberately avoiding where she’s desperate for me. “In my own time.”
“Your time is too slow.” She reaches down and tries to push my head where she wants it, and I catch her wrist, pinning it to her hip.
“Did I say you could do that?”
Her breath catches, her eyes darkening. There it is. That shift between us. The moment when the tenderness gives way to something hungrier. Something rougher.
“No,” she whispers.
“No, what?”
“No, sir.”
Heat floods through me at those words. I release her wrist and sit back on my heels, looking down at her spread out beneath me. Flushed and panting, her red hair tangled across the cushions, her pussy wet and wanting.
“Turn around,” I tell her, my voice rough. “Bend over. Hands on the couch.”
She smiles, slow and wicked, and turns. She bends forward, bracing her hands on the couch, arching her back as she rises onto her toes. Her ass presses toward me, round and perfect, and I can see a faint bite mark on one cheek from the other night. She looks over her shoulder at me with a grin that’s pure provocation.
“Like this?” She wiggles her hips, swaying them side to side, putting on a show.
