Page 18 of Daddies’ Holiday Toy (Kissmass Daddies #1)

Before I can think better of it, or talk myself into walking away before things get any messier, I’m sinking to my knees right in front of him.

His breath catches when he realizes what I’m doing.

My palms skim over his jeans and up the outside of his thighs until they rest at his hips. I tilt my head to look up at him through my lashes.

“Would this be enough of a payment?” I ask, teasing.

His jaw flexes as he stares down at me.

He doesn’t move, but his eyes stay locked on mine.

It’s not the expression I expect to see because there isn’t just lust darkening those deep green eyes. It’s something else too, something I can’t quite name.

Slowly, he reaches down, his fingers curling under my chin.

He tilts my face up, thumb brushing the edge of my jaw then moving to my mouth to part my lips and dip the tip of his thumb inside.

I swallow, my hands already finding his belt.

My fingers feel clumsy, driven by need, by how horny I am.

The leather slides loose, the metallic click of the buckle loud in the quiet kitchen.

I part the zipper and shove them down, just enough to pop him out, still straining against the line of his boxers.

When I glance up again, the hunger on his face steals my breath once again.

I work him free and let him spill into my palm.

He exhales a curse that jumbles together with half a groan. The sound goes straight between my legs, making me press them together.

He’s girthy, making it hard to wrap my fingers around him.

The strokes start slow at first while I savor the weight of him finally in my hand.

My thumb drags across the head, slick with pre-come, before I lean in and take him into my mouth.

The taste is inviting and I hum around him, the vibration pulling another low groan from his chest.

His hand finds my hair, fingers threading through it before gripping tight, not exactly forcing me down but guiding, pressing me deeper inch by inch once my throat opens.

I take him slow, unhurried, feeling every stretch until my eyes water and my lungs burn from lack of air.

I pull back only far enough to draw in a shaky breath, my lips dragging along the length of him before I sink down again, swallowing the groan he can’t hold back.

His thumb grazes my cheek, tracing the hollow that forms there when I close my lips tight around him.

His hips flex once in a restrained roll, but I feel the tremor in his thighs, watching the way his body is fighting to keep that control.

Each pass is a little deeper, a little faster, until his breath grows ragged.

He’s getting close.

I can feel it in how he swells in my mouth, the faint pulse of the vein running up him pressing against my tongue.

That’s when the sound hits—voices coming faintly from the landing while two sets of footsteps climb up to the front door.

Liam’s grip in my hair tightens, and I know I should stop.

I should pull back, stand up, and put some distance between us before the door swings open and we’re busted.

But the danger makes something reckless flare up inside me.

Instead, I hollow my cheeks again and take him deeper still, until my nose nearly brushes his stomach and the heat of twitching cock fills my throat.

His hand fists tighter in my hair, his hips jerking from being one second from losing it.

“Shit,” he mumbles. “Almost there, sweetheart. Just a little more…”

I whine around him, my own sex throbbing.

I’m right on the edge too, right alongside his breath growing sharp and uneven above me.

Every muscle drawn tight like a bowstring as he fights to remain in control and not take over and bury his cock down my throat.

A laugh echoes through the door, close enough that I know they’re seconds from opening it.

“Fuck, Holly—” Liam growls, almost pained.

I swallow around him and he breaks, hips jerking once hard as his whole body goes rigid.

He comes with a strangled groan that he tries and fails to bite back.

The taste floods my tongue, hot and salty.

I keep going, drawing it out while sucking him, my lips milking every last shudder from him until his hand tugs insistently at my hair, urging me up.

The cabin door creaks open.

“Honey, we’re home!” Reece calls out.

I swipe my mouth with the back of my hand as I get to my feet.

Liam’s still tucking himself back into his jeans when footsteps move across the living room, heading right for us.

I grab my mug off the table, along with my half-finished plate, and bring it over to the sink to start the dishes and give myself something to do while my entire body comes down from that high.

Jack appears first in the archway, brushing off some stray bits of snow from his jacket.

“Did we miss anything?” he asks casually, shrugging out of it.

My hands are shaking while I flip on the water and dunk the plates under the spray.

My throat aches from what just happened, and it feels so damn good. “Not much.”

Beside me, Liam’s leaning one hip against the counter, his expression easy-going while he nods at his friend before downing the rest of his coffee.

But when he glances over at me as he hands off his empty mug, there’s heat still simmering in his eyes.

For the rest of the day, I’m caught in this low, steady hum of awareness that I can’t seem to shake.

My body has somehow been tuned to his frequency, reacting every time Liam so much as shifts in my peripheral vision.

I try not to watch him, I really do, but it’s hard not to when I keep catching those quick, almost casual glances he throws my way.

They never linger for long, but they still manage to burn like a fingerprint pressed into my skin.

The way he keeps gravitating toward me should mean nothing.

The blowjob had been a one-time thing.

A deal struck, a transaction complete.

An acceptable payment for our agreement, one of those messy but neatly contained mistakes you put in a box in your head and pretend you’ll never open again.

Except…

That doesn’t explain the way his arm brushes mine while we’re sitting on the couch later that evening, watching some scratched DVD from the cabin’s collection.

It doesn’t explain the slow, deliberate lean when he dips close enough to tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear, his knuckles ghosting my cheek, right when the movie swells into its climax.

And it really doesn’t explain why I catch him watching me instead of the TV.

If this is just a one-time thing, why does he keep doing this?

Why does he make me feel like there’s more coming just beyond the horizon?

I should be keeping my distance.

I should make sure it doesn’t happen again because we will be caught.

The worst part is?

I’m not sure I want to stop.