Page 76 of Babies for the Christmas Grump

Just watching her glossy lips part and take me in slow, so goddamn slow, the veins in my neck strain as I nearly lose it right there.

Warm, wet suction. The expert swirl of her tongue traces the underside. The soft vibrating hum she makes deep in her throat as she sinks farther, her lashes fluttering against flushed cheeks as she tests her limit.

My head falls back against the wall with a dull thud. “Your mouth is perfect. You know that? So hot and wet.”

She moans around me, the vibration rippling through my cock and down my spine like an electric current, making my toes curl against the hardwood floor.

She starts to move, up and down, slick, her hand twisting at the base in a corkscrew motion that makes stars explode behind my eyelids.

Spit slicks my cock until I’m shining in the half-light, veins pulsing visibly beneath taut skin. Her other hand presses against my trembling thigh to brace herself, blue nails digging five perfect crescents into my flesh, just enough to make me groan through clenched teeth.

And then my control snaps, sending sparks through every nerve ending.

I haul her up by her shoulders, her lips making an obscene popping sound as they release me. I lie her on the mahogany desk, papers scattering to the floor, and crawl over her.

I’m a man possessed, injuries forgotten in the haze of lust clouding my vision.

Her legs part automatically, knees falling open to cradle my hips. I yank the worn cotton tee shirt she’s wearing over her head, revealing flushed skin.

I drag my teeth along the delicate ridge of her collarbone, tasting salt and sweetness as my hands roam, greedy and unrelenting, over the soft swell of her breasts.

Her nipples pebble beneath my tongue as I suck one dusky peak into my mouth, rolling it between my lips while my fingers tease down the elastic waistband of her leggings, brushing against the soft skin of her lower belly.

She arches up, spine bowing off the desk, panting.

“Ryder, please…” Her voice breaks on my name, breathless and needy.

“Patience,” I growl against the hollow of her throat, sliding a hand between her legs to feel just how soaked she is through her panties, the thin cotton drenched and clinging. “This pussy’s already begging for me. So fucking wet I can feel it through the fabric.”

She whimpers as I stroke her through the cotton, slow and dirty circles around her swollen clit. The fabric clings to her folds, sticky and hot against my fingertips, and it’s all I can do not to tear them off with my teeth.

But not yet.

I lean in, lips brushing the shell of her ear, breath hot against her skin. “You get me that worked up with your mouth and think I’m gonna let you off easy? Not a chance, baby.”

Her eyes flutter shut, thick lashes casting shadows on her flushed cheeks, lips parted and glistening.

“I want you to ruin me,” she whispers, raw with need.

Fuck.

I grab her wrists and pin them above her head with one hand, my callused fingers encircling both easily. My other hand slides her lace-trimmed panties to the side, the elastic leaving a faint red mark against her creamy skin.

“You sure?”

She nods once, desperate. Her eyes look almost black in the half-light.

“Please.” The word falls from her swollen lips.

I sink two fingers inside her in one smooth thrust, curling them against that velvet soft spot deep within.

Her back arches off the polished mahogany, spine a perfect bow. She gasps my name, the syllables broken and breathless, grinding down against my palm, greedy for more friction.

“You’re gonna come on my hand first,” I murmur against the hammering pulse in her throat, my thumb circling her clit, slick and swollen as a ripe berry. “I need tofeelyou.”

A half-laugh, half-sob escapes her, the sound vibrating against my lips where they press against her collarbone.

Her body clamps around my fingers, tight and pulsing, slick and hot as melted honey. She’s close. I can feel it in the fluttering of her inner walls, the tremor in her thighs.