The man is fast but focused. He unzips my jeans with precision, then stops, blows on his hands, and returns one to my belly.
It’s warmer, and I feel a little punch-drunk that he heated them up. His fingers slide farther, dancing across the top of my panties.
But he doesn’t tease me for long. He’s got something to prove, after all, and he slides his fingers into the red lace of my underwear.
I gasp, murmuring anoh god.
“Quiet,” he admonishes.
I nod, then roll my lips together when his fingers find my wetness.
“Fuck me,” he mutters.
I smile back at him. “Quiet, Rowan,” I chide.
He laughs, then brings his hand to his mouth and sucks off the evidence of my arousal. “Yep. You taste better than any dessert,” he says, then drops his hand between my thighs again.
With nimble fingers, he strokes me, his eyes bright, like I’m the most fun thing he’s ever touched. There’s barely room to move. But I manage to spread my thighs wider as I straddle his legs, my hands curled on his shoulders.
Like that, he draws circles on my clit, slides his fingers through my wetness. I’m dissolving into nothing but pleasure as I rock gently against him.
He ups the pace, rubbing faster, right where I want him.
I breathe out hard.
He slides one finger inside.
“Oh yes,” I moan, unbidden.
His mouth finds mine and he whispers a warning against it, “I’ll stop if you make a sound.”
Pleasure roars through me, settling in my core. I’m so close. I want to tell him. But I don’t want him to stop. Irock against his fingers, hoping he can read me. Closing my eyes, I let the wild sensations wash over me. He holds my face as he fucks me with his fingers till I can’t bear it a second more.
“I’m—”
I can’t even get out the wordcoming. His lips land on mine, swallowing the rest of the sentence. He kisses me roughly, coaxing me through the climax quietly.
But there’s nothing silent inside my body. I’m a cacophony of bliss. My cells dance. My molecules sing. And it’s definitely the most wonderful time of the year.
When the chorus inside me subsides, I try to get my bearings. I look around, taking in what we just did. But taking in…him.
“Can I?” I look down at his lap.
He shakes his head. “Not tonight, snow angel.”
I pout. “Why?”
“Because I can’t be quiet.”
I laugh, then I moan when he sucks his fingers once more. When he’s done, he gently zips up my jeans, buttons them, and checks the time. “We’ve got thirty minutes. Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
He rushes off.
Where the hell did he go?
30
PINK SLIP
