Page 40 of Just This Once (Stone Family #2)

“I’d rather kiss you.” With one hand, I catch her fingers and pull her to me. She comes willingly, her laugh breathy and so goddamn sexy, I’m gonna lose my mind when I finally get my mouth on her.

But she goes and kills my plans with a staying hand on my chest. “I’m not allowing you to go down on me tonight.

” She places two fingers on my lips to silence my argument.

Which was going to be that I could lie down and she could sit on my face.

“You get too excited, and I move around too much. I don’t want you to hurt yourself, and if you fight me on this, I’ll put my clothes right back on. So, are you going to be good?”

I stay quiet, and her replying smile is what I imagine an evil nun in a 1962 Catholic school would look like.

“Good boy,” she says against my ear, breath hot, lips catching on my earlobe. It’s an electric shock, and my balls draw up tight.

“Ah, fuck,” I grunt, and I rip open my button and zipper to shove my hand down my underwear.

I wrap a fist around my erection and squeeze, knowing I won’t last long.

It’s been weeks, and the most beautiful girl in the world is dragging the straps of her bra over her shoulders like my fantasy come to life.

She bends toward me as she pulls down the cups, and my mouth waters when I finally get a peek at the light-brown areolas and those hard nipples.

Without my having to ask, she lifts them up, offering them to me, and I moan, sucking on one of the peaks, tongue rubbing back and forth.

Maybe a little too hard from her gasp, but I’ve been deprived for so long. I can’t help it.

It is a feast after a famine, and I bite and suck on her other breast in the same way. Like I’ll never have another chance.

Even as I know I’ll have lots of chances. Every day for the rest of my life, if she’ll let me.

I stroke my cock from root to tip as I suckle hard enough to make her cry out, and I pull back. “You need to be quiet, duchess. The kids’ll hear. What if they come down here?”

“Better hurry up, then,” she whispers, and I comb my hand into her hair, yanking her mouth to mine. Our kiss is sloppy. All tongue. No coordination.

Desperate .

Frantic.

Wild.

I pull back, panting, and her lips chase mine for just a second before she leans away, eyes heavy-lidded and glazed. There’s a thin string of spit connecting us, and I swipe it away with my thumb, only to suck it into my mouth.

Her cheeks flush. “You’re disgusting.”

“Yeah, and you love it.” I hold up my index and middle fingers. “Make them wet.”

She does, licking circles around them, making them glisten, and only when it’s too much to watch anymore do I tell her to stop so I can slip them beneath her underwear, sliding over her pussy.

“And you love me,” I say, finding her clit.

She shifts her weight to push her knees wider, allowing me more room. “And I love you.”

She moans, head falling back as I slip my fingers inside her. She’s tight and hot, and I can’t help but imagine it’s my cock instead. God, when that day finally comes, I’m gonna lock her in the bedroom and strip the bed, because it’s gonna be a fucking mess.

Her eyelids flutter open, mouth parting as she sighs quietly when I find that sweet spot inside her. She braces herself, one hand on the couch, the other on my length, and I nod. “That’s it, duchess. Make me come with you.”

Her grip tightens, and I groan, resting my forehead against hers, working her faster.

She whimpers, her inner walls clamping down on my fingers, and I know she’s close.

I press my thumb against her clit, rubbing tight circles until she shatters, her orgasm ripping through her, taking me with her.

Like I knew I would, I come fast, following her over the edge, spilling into her hand, my cock pulsing in time with her clenching heat.

We stay like that for a moment, breathing each other in, pressing soft kisses to each other’s mouths and cheeks and jaws until we hear movement upstairs.

A reminder that we are not alone and could find ourselves in a compromising position at any moment.

She hops up to grab a tissue, cleaning her hand off, then slips her sweater and pants back on while I put myself back to rights.

Then she flops down on the couch next to me, and I sling my arm around her shoulders, grinning to myself. “Best Christmas ever.”

She carefully puts her head on my shoulder. “Yeah?”

I press my nose to her hair, inhaling deeply. “At least until next year.”

“What’s happening next year?”

“That’s when you get the good jewelry.”

She tips her head back, brows drawn in confusion.

When the lightbulb goes off, her jaw drops.

I close it with the tip of my finger. “Don’t worry.

As much as it’ll kill me, I won’t ask a minute before next Christmas Eve, so you have more than enough time to prepare.

And find a new place for Tortellini to live. ”

Funnily enough, it’s not the possible future question that has her pointing her finger at me. It’s my tortoise. “He can stay in the basement. He is not coming into the living room and definitely not into our bedroom.”

Our bedroom.

I like the sound of that.

I nip the tip of her finger then lean my head back, relaxing with my girl in my arms as the tree lights send rainbows of color across the walls. It’s heaven. “Famous last words.”