Actually, I didn’t want to talk. I wanted to make out with her and take her out of that outfit. The curve of her breasts peeked through the deep V of the top. I wanted to run my tongue over the creamy stripe of skin between the thigh-high boots and the hem of the skirt then lick my way up.
It was pitch-dark when they finished filming. The contest had run late that day. I took Rudolph out. The dog-sitting start-up had set up temporary shop at my office, providing some much-needed interaction for Rudolph. But he still had energy to burn.
Sloane texted me while I was out.
Sloane:Lonely? I’m in the area. Let me come by and cheer you up.
Ignore. She’d better not show up. The only reason she had been able to sneak upstairs was because of theTechBizcompetition; we’d had to give the committee access to our facilities.
When I returned to my condo, I was on edge, half expecting her to be waiting for me. She wasn't, and unfortunately, neither was Holly. I prowled around the condo, trying to convince myself that it wasn’t a good idea to sneak upstairs to my penthouse and into the master bedroom to surprise Holly. I poured myself a drink to try to take the edge off. The doorbell rang.
I ignored it. It was probably Sloane. The bell rang again, and Rudolph went crazy. Steeling myself, I checked the camera, but it was not Sloane; it was Holly. She blew kisses to the camera, then her hands slid up her top and started unbuttoning the bodice. I practically sprinted to the door and wrenched it open.
“I thought that would get your attention,” she said.
39
Holly
Owen didn’t say a word when he opened the door. He stared at me as though I was his main course and dessert.
“I’m drunk and might be convinced to make a bad decision,” I told him, licking my lips. “Such as sleep with the bake-off judge slash technically my boss.”
Owen pulled me inside and pushed me against the wall, crushing his mouth to mine. He tasted rich, like expensive liquor. His tongue claimed my mouth as his hand pushed up under the short skirt to caress my ass. He trailed kisses to my tits, pulling one out then the other to lick and kiss the soft skin.
I moaned, legs trembling slightly, my arms around his neck as he kissed his way down. I widened my legs for him as his hand pushed under my soaking panties. Whimpering, I pressed against his hand. Owen stroked me, teasing me, as he kissed me. One hand tangled in my hair as the other rubbed my clit. I had already been hot and bothered when I was outside his door, and Owen was quickly bringing me to the edge.
I clung to Owen as two fingers dipped into my opening then trailed back to circle and tease my clit. I whimpered and moaned against his mouth, my hips making little circles against his hand. He kissed back down to suck on my breast, nipping and rolling the nipple in his mouth, as his hand stroked my pussy.
Moaning, I clung to him as he stroked me, working my clit. I made whimpering, pleading noises as he kissed back up to my neck and up my jaw, using two fingers to roll my clit as if he was making candy canes. My legs trembled, and my body tightened as I came.
I panted against his mouth as he kissed me. His cock was hard through his pants, and I unzipped them. I needed that hard length inside me.
“I think I want my Christmas present early,” I breathed.
Owen lifted me, and I wrapped my legs around him. He kissed me as he carried me to the couch.
“Only naughty girls open their presents early,” he said, his deep voice sending delicious vibrations through me. He tossed me onto the couch. I landed on my hands and knees, and Owen positioned himself behind me.
“I want your cock,” I moaned.
“I want a taste of your Christmas cookies first,” he said, one hand tangled in my hair. He tipped my head back to kiss me as his hand pushed back under the wet panties, stroking my pussy. I moaned from the back of my throat as two of his fingers entered me. I gyrated against his hand.
“No fair,” I croaked as his fingers moved back to my clit.
He chuckled then eased my panties down. They trapped my knees together, so I couldn’t spread my legs wide enough to entice him to stick that big cock into me. I moaned as he undid the bodice of the nutcracker outfit, one hand cupping my tit, rolling the nipple in his fingers. His hands slid down my back to cup my ass.
“I think you really did turn me into a Christmas cookie addict,” he remarked then pressed his mouth to my pussy.
His tongue felt even better than his hands. I cried out as his tongue dipped into my opening then made little spirals up to my clit. I cursed, trying to spread my legs more. Owen laughed, his voice sending vibrations through my pussy. There was a tearing noise, and the lace panties ripped. Owen tossed them to the floor.
“Fuck me,” I begged, spreading my legs wider for him.
He ignored me and kept up the same steady motion with his tongue. His large hands held my hips in place as Owen sucked and licked my clit, almost bringing me to the edge again then not letting me finish. He traced every line of pleasure. I was a sweaty, pleading mess. He slid two fingers back into my opening, crooking them as he worked my clit.
I could barely hold myself up. My knees trembled, and my legs felt like they were going to give out when finally Owen made me come with a series of high-pitched cries. Spent, I half collapsed on the couch.
“You know,” Owen said before I drifted off into a land of happy singing elves and friendly reindeer, “I almost expected you to yell ‘Merry Christmas.’”
