Page 31 of Daddies’ Holiday Toy (Kissmass Daddies #1)

The pale swirl coats his length in messy strokes, melting against his heat.

“Right here,” he says.

My lips part without conscious thought, my gaze flicking from his eyes to the slow slide of his hand.

The scent of him mixed with the sweet cream wraps around me as I lean in.

My tongue flicks against him first, tasting the sweet cream before I press my mouth fully to him.

His inhale is audible, sharp, and his free hand moves to the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair, holding, guiding, letting me set the pace.

The whipped cream is cool and sugary against my tongue, but the taste of him underneath it is what makes my thighs clench together.

Every slow pass of my lips down his cock makes the sugar dissolve, leaving only him and the salty, intoxicating taste.

When I glance up through my lashes, his eyes are locked on me, chest rising a little faster with each pass.

“Holly…”

I don’t stop.

I wrap my hand around the base of him, the slickness from the cream making my grip glide easily.

My mouth works higher up, tongue tracing slow, deliberate circles along the underside of him, lapping up the last of the sugar until there’s nothing left but him on my tongue.

Reece’s thumb brushes against my cheekbone, his touch surprisingly gentle. “You…do something to me, Holly.”

I smile around him before easing back, letting my lips linger just at the tip, tasting the faint sweetness clinging there. “Yeah, well. I feel the same way.”

He chuckles, then his hand slides down to my jaw, tilting my face up to his. “Stand up.”

I obey, legs tingling as I rise.

He doesn’t waste time, hands finding my waist, pulling me flush against him so I can feel exactly what I’ve been doing to him.

The heat between us is almost dizzying, making me groan.

One hand pulls my coat apart and slips under my dress, skimming up my side, fingers brushing the curve of my hip. The kiss is messy in the best way. I clutch at the front of his shirt, needing him closer.

His fingers stroke the edge of my underwear, teasing, drawing circles that make my knees weak.

“Tell me you want this,” he murmurs against my lips.

I don’t hesitate. “I want this.”

That’s all he needs to hear.

He slides the fabric aside and his fingers find me, slick and ready for him.

My head falls back against his shoulder as he works me slowly, his other hand gripping my hip to hold me steady.

“God, Holly,” he breathes out.

I grip his forearm, both to steady myself and because I need something to hold on to.

Then he draws his fingers away, leaving me aching. Before I can protest, he’s turning me, guiding me backward until my hips bump the edge of the counter.

“Up,” he says, and I hop onto it, the cool surface a shock against the backs of my thighs.

He steps between my knees, sliding my coat completely off my shoulders and tossing it aside.

His hands are warm as they trail up my bare legs, thumbs brushing the inside of my thighs until they reach the edge of my underwear again.

“Reece…” I start, but my voice falters when his fingers hook the fabric and tug it down in one smooth motion. He doesn’t break eye contact as he lets it fall to the floor.

The way he looks at me, like I’m something he’s been hungry for all night, makes my stomach flip.

“You have any idea what you do to me?” he murmurs, hands braced on either side of my hips now, caging me in.

I swallow hard. “I think I’m getting the picture.”

He smirks, then he’s kissing me again.

His hand slides back between us, fingers finding me easily and drawing a gasp from my throat.

The angle has me rocking toward him without thinking, needing more.

His other hand comes up to cradle the back of my neck, holding me steady as the kiss turns hotter and more desperate.

“Lie back,” he says, and I do, the overhead lights bright against my closed eyes for a second before I open them again and see him standing over me.

Then he’s leaning forward, one hand sliding under my thigh to lift it, the other guiding himself to my entrance.

The first push inside steals my breath.

His cock fills me in a way that has me clutching at the counter edges. He watches my face as he sinks in the rest of the way, memorizing every flicker of expression.

“God, you feel good,” he groans, head tipping forward for a second before he pulls back and drives into me again.

The rhythm builds slowly, steady and deep.

Each thrust pulls a soft sound from me.

My hands find his shoulders, nails dragging lightly over the fabric of his shirt.

It’s intoxicating—the heat of him, the way the scent of sugar and his cologne mix in the air around me, the faint creak of the counter beneath us.

He leans down, swallowing the noises I make as his pace quickens. His hand slides between us, finding my clit and rubbing it until I cry out against his mouth.

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “Just like that.”

I’m so close and I can tell he knows it by the way he keeps the rhythm perfect, his gaze locked on mine.

When it hits, my back arches as he holds my hips down against the counter, his thrusts never letting up until I’m shaking.

He follows a heartbeat later with a low groan, hips pressing tight to mine before he finally spills inside me and stills.

Reece eases out of me slowly, giving me one last teasing brush of his fingers that has my hips twitching in protest.

He smirks at my reaction then grabs a stack of napkins from the other counter to clean me up.

“Guess I’m definitely getting my money’s worth,” he teases.

I laugh breathlessly. “Guess so.”

His phone buzzes inside his pocket, breaking the spell of the moment.

Reece glances down before fishing it out into the open, brow furrowing when he sees the name.

“Jack?” he mutters, more to himself than to me.

Sitting up, I watch him hesitate for a heartbeat, eyes glancing in my direction, before he swipes to answer. “Hey, what’s up?”

Jack’s voice is just a low, muffled rumble from where I’m sitting, but the shift in Reece’s face is instant.

That relaxed ease drains out of him immediately, replaced by something else more serious.

“No, I haven’t heard from him. Why, what happened?” There’s a pause, his jaw flexing as he listens. “Right, got it. I’ll check on him and let you know.”

He ends the call and runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face with a deep sigh.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

“Guess Liam’s gone dark. Jack says they got into a fight and now he’s ignoring his calls and texts. Wanted to know if I’d heard from him at all.” He grabs my jacket from the counter and hands it to me, helping me hop down from the counter.

That doesn’t sound good. “What kind of fight?”

His fingers automatically lift to secure my jacket in place, deft fingers slipping the buttons through the holes expertly. “Didn’t say. I’m gonna swing by his place to make sure he’s alright. Sorry for cutting the evening short.”

The apology barely registers before I’m blurting, “I’ll come with you. I want to help.”

It’s not even a thought, it’s instinct.

Not only do I not want him going there alone, if there’s something wrong with Liam, I want to help too. I’m not just seeing Reece in this arrangement.

Reece pauses, surprised.

He watches me for a moment, then his expression softens.

“You’re sweet, you know that?” he murmurs, brushing his knuckles lightly along my jaw.

I smile, leaning into the gesture. “Lead the way.”

Liam’s apartment is on the twelfth floor of a sleek high-rise.

The outside is all glass paneling and smooth steel.

The lobby is immaculate, marbled floors with silver flecks in them, large potted plants scattered around the seating area, and a large security desk at the front with three men sitting behind it.

One of the guards takes one look at Reece, recognition flashing in his eyes, and waves us through without a word.

The elevator ride is quiet except for the soft hum of machinery and the faint buzz of the numbers changing on the panel above.

I can tell Reece is anxious, running through scenarios in his head for what we’re about to walk into.

While I don’t know Liam as well as he does, even I know this is unusual behavior for him.

When the elevator lands, we step out onto a quiet floor that only has a few doors lining the walls.

We head for the one at the very end of the hall, stopping in front of it to let Reece input the code to unlock the door.

The moment we step inside the apartment, the smell hits me. Liquor, pungent and unmistakable, mixed with the stale edge of takeout food. Just like the lobby, the apartment is huge.

A long corridor that leads into an expansive living room with windows that face the skyline.

The only light in the room comes from the glow of the muted TV mounted on the wall above an ornate fireplace.

Liam’s sprawled out on the couch like he’s melted into it, head tipped back, eyes glassy.

His hair is sticking up in every possible direction, remnants of his hands running through it a hundred times.

A half-empty bottle of whiskey sits on the coffee table. Beside it are cans of cheap beer, some of them overturned.

The amber liquid from one of the toppled ones has dripped onto the table, leaving a water ring stain on the wood.

Around all of that are takeout boxes from various local restaurants. Most of the food is only half eaten or picked through.

“Hey, man,” Reece says. “What’s going on?”

Liam blinks at us slowly, unfocused, before pushing himself up on his elbows.

“He okay?”

“Jack’s an ass,” he slurs back.

I glance at Reece, catching him glance right back at me.

No words are exchanged between us, just a mutual understanding that whatever fight Liam and Jack had earlier, it was a bad one.

It takes both of us to haul him upright.

He’s as heavy as he looks, his toned body a dead weight.

We drag him off the couch despite him muttering under his breath words that neither of us can catch because they blend together so badly.

It’s an awkward and slow half-drag down the hall to his bedroom, but we get him there.

“Drink this,” Reece orders once we have him in bed, shoving a glass of water into his hand.

Liam takes one look at it and waves him off with a clumsy flick of the wrist. “M’fine.”

He’s already letting his head drop back onto the pillow, eyes fluttering closed.

“Sure you are,” Reece says, not even trying to hide the sarcasm.

We leave him to sleep it off, closing the door gently behind us.

Without speaking, we start picking up.

He grabs the cans and whiskey bottle, I collect the food containers.

It’s oddly domestic, the two of us moving in quiet sync.

Me tossing a box into the trash at the same moment he drops the cans into the recycling bin and dumps the rest of the whiskey bottle in the sink.

There’s no need to coordinate, we just do it. Seamlessly.

When the last of Liam’s mess is picked up, we sink down onto the couch together and sag into each other.

The cushions dip under our weight, and for the first time all night, Reece lets out a long, heavy sigh.

“Jack can be kind of abrasive, so I’m not surprised they got into it over something. Usually it’s not this bad, though. Jack tends to butt heads with all of us at some point.” He scrubs a hand over his jaw.

I curl my legs underneath me, leaning back to look at him. “I think he’s misunderstood.”

That gets me one brow raised, skeptical but curious.

“I mean, yeah, he can be a little abrasive and rough, but I think it comes from wanting to keep the peace and prevent things from blowing up. Like…here’s an example.

When he tried to keep you guys from pursuing me, it was because he knew it would create a giant problem with my dad if he ever found out. ”

He nods slowly. “True.”

I shrug. “I don’t think Jack means for his words to come out as harsh as they do. It’s just a bad delivery. If you listen to what he’s actually saying, it’s not that bad. Gotta read between the lines.”

Reece studies me for a long moment, head tilted slightly. “You’re a lot more emotionally mature than most people your age. You know that?”

I snort. “Kinda sounds like you didn’t expect me to be.”

“It’s not like that. I mean you’ve got a unique perspective on things. Not many people would be able to understand what you do. I think that’s really special.”

I shrug, staring down at my hands in my lap, fingers twisting together.

“I mean, I grew up with a single mom, so I had to get good reading between the lines. She did everything for me, but it was hard. She didn’t get a lot of support from my dad, so we were always on our own.

I mean, he came in and out at times, but he never stayed for long.

Not enough for us to ever really benefit from it.

By the time we got used to him being there, he was gone again.

So, I made sure whatever emotional support my mom needed, I gave it to her. ”

Reece’s jaw tightens. His fingers curl lightly against his knee, a quick flash of what looks like anger flickering across his face.

“What?” I ask.

He exhales through his nose, leaning back just enough that his head tips against the couch.

“I really regret not saying something to him back then. I just…we all let it slide for years. I didn’t realize how bad it was until recently looking back on it.

I can’t fathom doing something like what your dad did to my own kids.

” He shakes his head, his eyes flicking away.

“It’s hitting me how complacent I’ve been.

I’m sorry, Holly. You never should’ve had to deal with any of that. ”

The apology catches me off guard. I tilt my head. “Are you worried about being that way with your kids?”

His gaze drops to his hands again.

“Sometimes,” he admits. “Even though I get them for the whole summer and on most holidays, there are days I wonder if they feel like I’m missing too much. Like I’m…half in, half out, even if I’m doing my best. I don’t want to be anything like Carson, but I worry I am without realizing it.”

I shift closer to him on the couch, my hand brushing over his thigh.

“You’re not like him, Reece. You worry about doing right by them. My dad never did. That’s at least ten times better in my book.”

The lines around his eyes soften when he looks at me again. “You really believe that?”

“I do,” I say without hesitation.

He holds my gaze for a moment longer, searching for any doubt in me.

He won’t find it.

I mean every damn word I say and then some.

He leans in slowly.

The kiss that follows isn’t the hungry, heated ones we’ve shared back at the bakery.

This is tender, his hand coming up to cradle the side of my face. His thumb grazing my cheek gently tracing it over my skin.

When he finally draws back, his forehead rests against mine for a beat, both of us breathing in the same small pocket of air.

For the first time since this whole arrangement started, I feel real butterflies.

Not the lust or adrenaline kind.

Real butterflies that come from love.

That scares me more than anything.