Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 38786 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 194(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 129(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38786 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 194(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 129(@300wpm)
Lust spirals through me as the urge to come turns potent.
Not yet.
I can’t let go yet.
She needs to come first.
After a quick adjustment of Kelsey’s hips, I find a rhythm that has her nails unsure of which direction to take. One set digs into my hip as she holds on for the ride while the other drags up and down my back to playfully scratch the sweaty skin.
“Ohh…” Her moan is throatier than the earlier ones. Desperate and needy. It tells me everything I need to know.
She’s close.
Her hips lift from the ground the more she chants. She meets me thrust for thrust, writhing and bucking as her moans turn feral.
“Fuck, Kelsey,” I say with a moan when I realize she isn’t the one being fucked.
She’s taking me.
Riding me.
She’s put me under a spell, and I can’t get enough.
This is everything. Not could be. Not possibly. This is everything.
I drive into her harder. Deeper. I fuck her with everything I have until her song hits the high note, and her left hand finally joins her right hand in marking my back with her touch.
“Zane…”
Her pussy sucking at me is intense. It hugs me and begs me to let go of the restraints until I join her on the thrilling ride that announces I’m not helming our exchange. I’m the passenger tagging along for the ride as Kelsey regains her life.
CHAPTER 9
Kelsey
Don’t ask me what day of the week it is or how many orgasms I’ve experienced in the past however many days. They’re both questions I wouldn’t be able to answer. I’ve lost track of everything—including my anger.
It couldn’t be more apparent when my first thought isn’t to run when I see Peter coming from the other end of the street.
Zane and I got dressed for the first time in days so we can light the Christmas tree in a way she deserves. It was an errand meant to take ten minutes but has been dragged out to forty since Zane wanted to ensure the next set of lights we ‘test’ before placing them on the tree are shock resistant.
He still doesn’t realize my shudders that night had nothing to do with the bulbs blowing.
The blame for their fritz solely belongs on Zane’s shoulders.
With my past about to collide with my present, I try to lessen the brutality of the impact. My father put on a brave front when I was told how my parents met, but even a pair of eyes as loved-up as his couldn’t hide his sadness when it was revealed how close he came to not meeting my mother at all.
They’d met by chance, but my father is adamant more than luck was on his side that day.
In his twenties, he was as paranoid about a stalking Santa as Zane is now.
I twist to face Zane, who is being admired by teenage girls far too young to place him on their Christmas wish list. “We forgot to grab candy canes for the tree. I think I saw some in the decoration section.”
“I’ll grab them,” Zane offers before asking, “Mint or candy apple flavored?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer him. “Mint. Always mint.”
He presses his lips to the edge of my mouth, then darts back into the department store brimming with last-minute Christmas shoppers. He disappears amongst the crowd just as Peter notices me standing on the sidewalk.
“Hey.” While bridging the gap between us, he takes his time scanning my face and body. He forever saw me in corporate wear, so my Christmas sweater and yoga pants would seem odd to him. “You look different.” When my scoff comes out louder than intended, he nervously shuffles from foot to foot. “Good different. It’s giving me naughty elf vibes.”
“Thanks. Ah…” Never one for small talk, I blurt out, “What are you doing here?” Even confident I never want to witness his heavy make-out sessions again, I peer past his shoulder, seeking the person who almost had me wanting to hate Christmas. “Is Noelle with you?”
“No.” I loathe the joyful tap dance my insides do from the disappointment in his tone. Even more so when he adds, “She’s back home, finalizing preparations for our…” His throat works hard to swallow. “… you know.”
“Oh, I do. But why aren’t you there?”
My brows furrow when he nudges his head to the jewelry store we’re standing next to. They’re not known for high-end designs and reputability. The owner’s reputation is so shady he should shack up with Rochelle in her Grinchy cave.
Peter acts like he isn’t mere days away from a massive payday. “Their synthetic diamonds are the best in the country. I couldn’t pass them up.” I stop glaring at him as if I despise him when he says, “Noelle doesn’t care you won’t cough up the goods. She’d happily wear a diamond-less ring, but Ma is pretty upset. That ring has been in her family for decades.”