Page 37 of The Mistletoe Mix-up

“Shit, you’re fucking tight,” he grunted when he finally made it all the way in. “You okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just been a while.” She laughed breathlessly.

“How long?”

Wren felt his hand between her legs, slipping between her pussy lips and finding her clit again. She shook against the first stroke of his fingers, her body spasming around his cock, and she sucked in a breath.

“Hmmm, how long has it been, baby, since somebody’s made this pretty pussy come?”

God, his mouth had always been dirty, but instead of making her giggle, her body quaked with arousal.

“Nine months, give or take,” she murmured.

Sam clicked his tongue. “That’s a fucking travesty. I could fucking live inside you forever.”

He ground his hips into her as he continued to rub her clit, his mouth resting against the sensitive skin under her ear. His hand on her throat held her as he kissed her pulse, fucking her in a slow, steady rhythm that built like a balloon inside her ready to pop. Sex in their teens had been hard, fast, and hurried. Even after months together, learning each other’s likes, they were always on a timeline. Curfews. A quickie during lunch. Someone else needing the room. Plus, their youthful eagerness to get to the good part usually made their connections a blur.

The fact that he remembered she loved being held, needing the press of his body against hers, his hand holding her throat softly. Wren wanted to be caged against him, his body like steel bars keeping her safe as he slipped in and out of her, picking up speed. His mouth, God, the sensation of his lips leaving kisses and gentle suction across her skin every time he slammed back in, and the pulse between her legs drummed faster, harder until a sweet rush of bliss bloomed.

When her orgasm finally burst, she pushed back into him, her hips jerking with the aftershocks of pleasure rocking her body. Instead of letting her come down from the high, he took her hips in both hands and gripped her tight as he pulled nearly all the way out before driving back into her. Her breasts slid over the counter, the smooth friction teasing her nipples to hard peaks, and she leaned on her forearms, cupping them in her hands as she played with herself. Wren moaned as she rolled her nipple between her fingers, and Sam ground into her, looking over her shoulder at what she was doing.

Sam groaned. “Fuck, Birdy, what are you doing to me?”

“I thought I was touching myself,” she murmured teasingly.

“And it’s hot as hell. Don’t stop.” Sam slipped almost completely out of her and dived back in, wringing a scream from her. “Don’t. Ever. Fucking. Stop.” He drove each word home with a hard thrust, and Wren’s cries grew louder with every plunge of his dick.

“Oh God, fuck, yes, oh!”

“Good fucking Birdy.” He pumped her so fast their bodies slapped together in a rhythmic beat that ended with Sam pulsating inside her, his cock jerking as he came. Wren turned her head, kissing wherever she could reach, which happened to be his neck.

“Wren,” he groaned, shaking against her, their bodies slick with perspiration. She licked his skin playfully, sucking it between her lips, until he gave one last shuddering moan.

When he slumped over her, his arms curling around her middle, Wren took a deep, shaking breath. Her body was weak with satisfaction, and as she turned to look at Sam over her shoulder, studying the flushed cheeks and messy hair, she smiled softly.

“I guess you did learn a thing or two, huh?”

Sam shot her a tired grin and kissed her, hard and fast.

“Baby, you ain’t seen nothing yet.” He kissed the side of her neck, and when he stepped back, she started to move but found herself swept up in his arms.

“What are you doing?” she squealed.

“Taking you to my bedroom. I just need half an hour, hour tops, and I’ll be ready to go again.”

Wren swallowed hard, gripping Sam’s shoulders in a panic. She’d been so caught up in how amazing it felt to be touched and taken by Sam, she hadn’t thought ahead on what her exit strategy would be.

“Sam, I can’t stay,” she said.

Sam stopped and frowned, his eyes shuttered. “Why?”

“Duke. My dog. He’s in his kennel, and I need to let him out to go to the bathroom.”

Sam relaxed against her, his face softening. “Of course,” he said, dropping her legs slowly so her body slid down his until she could touch the floor. He kissed her forehead, his hands rubbing up and down her back. “I hate to let you go. Any way you could let him out and come back?”

Wren’s body warmed at his eager expression, hating that she was lying to him, but sleeping over meant a level of intimacy she wasn’t looking for, even with Sam. “I have to be up for my shift at six.” His expression was so boyishly crestfallen, Wren couldn’t stop herself from adding, “But what if I came over tomorrow after work?”

“I work until nine,” Sam said.