Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
But…I also wanted to fuck him into the mattress.
I gripped my cock at the base and settled behind him, pulling his cheeks apart with my free hand. “Jesus, you’re beautiful. I want to taste you.”
That was all the warning I gave him before I bent to lick his entrance, flattening my tongue at each pass. I reached between his legs to palm his balls and stroke him while I did the same to myself. I wished I had another pair of hands. I wanted to touch him everywhere at once. I let him take over jerking himself and focused on stretching him open with my mouth and my fingers.
Three fingers, the tip of my tongue, and the brush of my five o’clock shadow on his ass later, and he was a horny mess.
“Court…oh, fuck, oh, fuck. Please.”
I rolled on a condom, slathered lube on both of us, then set my cock at his hole and pushed. The heat and pressure were followed by a wave of pleasure so strong my breath caught in my chest. I waited for him to relax, rubbing soothing circles along his spine. He dropped his head and panted something dirty like, “Fuck me,” so I did.
I rocked into him with steady thrusts, loving how vocal and uninhibited he was. “Do it, fuck me, I want your cock, give it to me” gave way to incoherent grunts as I picked up the pace, pounding into him so hard the bed skittered away from the wall.
His laughter broke my rhythm.
I joined in, kissing his neck and shoulders. “Get on top of me, baby.”
Ivan slid out from under me, straddling my torso a moment later. I grabbed his hips and pulled him forward to suck the tip of his dick.
“Oh God, yes,” he moaned, fucking my mouth in earnest.
I wondered if he wanted to come this way, but as the thought crossed my mind, he scooted down my chest and lowered himself on my cock.
We’d had a lot of sex over the past month or so, and I’d become an expert at gauging what he wanted in bed. Ivan wasn’t shy about his needs, and he didn’t hesitate to call the shots…or top from the bottom. I didn’t mind at all. He liked hard and fast, and a little raunchy. This was where he’d usually dig his heels in and ride me like a bucking bronco, his cock slapping my belly as he upped his tempo, flying for the finish line.
Not tonight.
Tonight, he rocked back and forth, dragging his thumbs over my nipples, his eyes at half-mast. He looked stunning, a dark angel with swollen lips and flushed cheeks. I bent my knees, swiping a bead of precum from his drooling dick and meeting his gaze as I licked my finger clean.
“You taste good, baby.”
Ivan smiled. “Baby. I like that.”
“Baby,” I rasped, fucking him slow and deep. “Baby, baby, baby…”
“Mmm.”
He liked that…a lot. In fact, he turned to putty in my hands, languid and molten.
I wanted to shower him with sweet nothings, but words got gummed up in my brain and the only thing that came out was, “You’re so beautiful. So fucking beautiful.”
He leaned forward, and our noses and lips pressed together. I wanted to stay like this…just like this with our bodies fused and our hearts beating as one, but I needed release. I held him tightly and pumped faster and faster.
Ivan cried out. “I’m gonna…oh, fuck.”
Cum spurted between us and I was with him half a second later, roaring and gasping as my release barreled into me like a runaway train. I rolled on top of him, collapsing for a beat then raining kisses on his face and neck and shoulders.
He let out a surprised squeal, but he didn’t push me away. If anything, he burrowed closer, soaking up the silly affection like a love sponge. And all I could think was that I wanted to give him more. More kisses, more adoration, more…everything.
We showered and headed downstairs to tidy up. I stacked dishes in the dishwasher while Ivan turned on holiday music and made hot chocolate. He spiked our drinks with Baileys and ushered me into the living room to decorate the trees—plural.
I groaned and said no way, but sitting like a lump on the sofa watching him work didn’t seem fair, so…yeah, I decorated the fucking trees. And you know, it was nice. We strung the lights and riffled through ornaments, chatting about hot topics like the annual holiday Bingo event on Friday night, the party the Mighty Mite parents wanted to throw for the kids, and the Holiday Hockey tournament with coaches and juniors coming up.
Before I could wonder why all this Elmwood holiday cheer wasn’t making me itchy and anxious, we’d moved on to holiday memories. It was funny to realize how many we shared. Grade school Secret Santas, holiday concerts in the park, caroling at the retirement home in oversized reindeer shirts with antlers made from handprints.