Page 48 of His Wicked Little Christmas

“I have one question.” He blew a purposeful breath over the now-sizzling nub, making her gasp. His hand snaked between their bodies, fingers dancing south. Between her thighs, parting her folds, he slid a finger gently inside. Stroking tenderly as she sighed, hips lifting. Deeper, then deeper still. “Would you like to crest the first time with my cock inside you or my tongue?”

Grasping the counterpane as he began to pump his hand, she whispered hoarsely, “Cock first, tongue after. If I’m allowed both. Then sketching, like you promised.”

She realized he’d halted, his movement stilling. Soaring from the passionate sea he’d tossed her into, she opened her eyes to find his expression filled with disbelief. A howling gust of wind rattled the windowpanes as they stared. His lips parted, but it was a minute before any words came out.

“Where did you come from, Francine Shaw? You’re my dream come to life. Such. A.Dream. I fear if I touch you, you’ll disappear, a misty yearning deep in my soul evaporating into the night.”

She raised to her elbow and reached for his shaft, wrapping her hand around him. Hard, smooth, sleek. He was beautiful, ravenous, cheeks flushed, skin moist. He moaned softly, his lids quivering. “Stay.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Chance.”

With a sigh, he tore into her. The kiss feral, then he was gone, sliding down her body for real this time. Caressing her ribs, her belly, the side of her breast. While pumping his finger in long, sluggish strokes inside her, seeking to drive her mad.

Although she’d asked for the other first, he moved between her legs, nipping her hipbone, his bristly cheeks grazing her thighs, hismouth delving between her moist folds until she arched and moaned, turning into someone she didn’t recognize. He took the pebbled bit of hidden flesh between his lips and sucked, groaning into her skin, his own pleasure breaking the surface. His tongue and finger worked in tandem, in a coordinated, furious pace. She cried out. There was no way to contain her rapture, the sound and scent of them infusing the air.

A rush of sensation crept from the base of her spine, threatening to consume her. Curling her toes, her fingers going into fists, her body arching.

In moments, she was coated in dew, heat, arousal. Wrapped up and around him. Mindless, starved for pleasure. For him.

“Now,” she said and lifted her hips, needing, wanting. Begging. She wanted him to take her to that place. Now. Now.Now.

“Look at me,” he murmured against her thigh, his tongue drawing a maddening, lazy circle. “A sketch for your collection. Or maybe we’ll make art right here. I’ll trace on your bare skin with my fingertips and solve for the complexities of the design with my tongue.”

She followed orders—and knew she’d never forget the sight of Chance Allerton stretched across the bed, his muscled arms wrapped around her legs, his dark head resting between her thighs. She should have been embarrassed. When all she felt was a nagging sense of rightness and humbly fragile ownership.

She didn’t want him to do this with another woman.Ever. That wish was clear.

The wind whipped against the windows, howling, drowning out their staggered breaths.

Growling faintly, he nipped her thigh, her belly, levering on his forearms and rising over her. His fingers leaving her only to nudge his shaft into place at her entrance. “You are delectable. I hardly know how to contain my avarice. An unfamiliar occurrence. A gift delivered to my doorstep that I’m bloody accepting even if I shouldn’t.”

She arched her hips, seeking. “Quit talking,” she rasped against his neck when he lowered himself over her. His delicious weight sinking them into the mattress. “Start doing.”

Laughing, he grasped her arm and pinned it over her head, samplingthe hard nipple thrust against his cheek by the movement. “What a little bulldog you are. My gorgeous American bulldog.”

“I know what I want.” She angled his mouth back to hers. “Why act like I don’t? I don’t understand that about this country. Every desire hidden beneath a thousand layers of dread.”

“Why, indeed.” Sighing raggedly, he accepted her offer, kissing her while he nudged his shaft between her slick folds, then with a jolt, sliding inside her. A gradual possession. Measured. Determined. Filling her, changing her. Rocking movements that she caught on to quickly.

It was the most natural of unnatural performances. Addictive from the start. She closed her eyes to the glory, skin tingling, air trapped in her lungs. Positioning her bent leg against his hip, he shifted and eased deeper into her, the push and pull lighting a fire inside her.

Moreandless as he stroked. Waging a war. To go faster, to linger. To speed up, to slow. He got her close to a summit, her brusque entreaties filling the silence, the creak of the bed marking their tempo, then he paused, murmuring profane suggestions in her ear. Every one of them—bending her over his desk, having her ride him, filling her again and again—increased the delight she chased. Until she was bound to him, a quivering, helpless mass of nerve endings.

She caught his shoulder, his jaw. Fingers tangling in his hair. Nails digging into the band of muscle around his forearms. Urging him, biting him, hips lifting, bumping in a synchronized cadence.

It was brutal, magnificent elegance.

Sensation gathered, and this time, he let it build. Rocking from tip to base, fully owning her. Entrenched as far as possible one moment, almost sliding out the next. His arms trembled where he held himself over her. Dropping his brow to her shoulder, he took gasping breaths and murmured lost bits of nothing in her ear.

“Close,” he said, the word wrenched from him. “Close. Come with me.”

She shook her head wildly, unable to reply. Unable to do more than move with him, hold him, possess him as he possessed her. Swearing beneath his breath, his hand slipped between their bodies, grazing the swollen nub just above where he penetrated her.

Circling, pressing, demanding her release.

It was enough. Too much.Everything.

He knew exactly how to touch her, exactly what she needed.