Page 117 of My Favorite Holidate
His skin is toned and tan, and the tattoos on his forearms are on display—abstract designs that I keep meaning to ask about. But I haven’t yet. Right now, he doesn’t look like he wants to talk. He looks like he wants to do something else entirely with his mouth.
Because I’m learning something private about my boss.
Hereallylikes to eat.
He slides his hands along my ankles, up my calves, and to my thighs as he spreads me open. “But I’m not going to unwrap my gift just yet.” His gaze is molten, his words gravelly. “I just want to…taste it.”
I moan and he hasn’t even touched my pussy. But I’m ludicrously wet for him.
He spreads my legs as wide as he possibly can, humming approvingly. “What a pretty pink gift. And I like my presents wet.” He rubs his trim stubble against the inside of my thigh, and I gasp. “And glistening.” He blows a stream of air against my eager clit. “And very, very horny.”
“You’ve got your wish,” I say, aching for him.
“Yes, I really have,” he says, like he’s mesmerized with me. On a growl, he buries his face between my legs and French kisses my pussy. The relief is instant and electric. Delicious heat spreads inside me as I throw back my head against the pillow.
My hands are bound at my chest so I can’t grab hishair, but I can arch my hips. And I do, shamelessly begging him with my body.
He laps me up, his tongue stroking up and down and flicking delirious circles around my clit. I groan and writhe—it’s just so good. Then he flattens his tongue and gives a long, thorough lick before he thrusts his tongue inside me. It’s like a circuit breaker fries inside my head and pleasure pops everywhere.
“Please, please, please, please, please,” I chant.
He stops, looks up innocently. “Please what?”
“Give me more than I can handle,” I beg, breathless with lust.
He returns to my thighs, murmuring, “Gladly.” Then he devours me till I come so hard my vision blurs and my brain goes offline.
A minute later, when I open my eyes and blink off the haze of pleasure, Wilder’s rising to his knees. He wipes his hand across his very satisfied mouth, then wastes no time dropping that same hand between my thighs and gently stroking me.
I flinch, since I’m still sensitive from the orgasm.
But he’s determined. “How about another?” he says, slowly building me back up, taking his time with long, tantalizing brushes of his talented fingers. “Think of it asmygift too.”
“My multiple orgasms are your gift?”
His grin is wolfish. “They really fucking are, Fable.”
“It is Christmastime, I suppose,” I say playfully.
He takes myyesand slides two fingers inside me. In no time, I’m grinding down on him, fucking his hand as he plays me once more and sends me over the cliff a few minutes later.
I’m desperately trying to catch my breath when heeases out his fingers and climbs over me. Bracing his palms on either side of my body, he gazes down with the most unguarded look in his eyes. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he says in a rasp, then he crushes his lips to mine in a hot, passionate kiss that feels different from the ones that have come before.
As he consumes my mouth, I try to pinpoint the difference. To figure out what’s changed. But it’s hard since my brain is all neon. I’m not thinking in words. I’m thinking in brilliant colors. In wild sensations. Everything feels more intense with him. Everything feels like we mean it. Like we’ve pushed past that practice phase. Like we’re taking all the things we truly want. And I want everything that Wilder wants to give me.
When he breaks the kiss, I look up at him. His lips are bruised from kissing me, and his eyes are wild. But they’re also…soft. Filled with raw desire, but also some tenderness that makes me feel like every word he said tonight is so true.
I don’t normally let down my guard. I don’t like to show the softer parts of myself for fear someone could hurt me like Brady did. Like other guys I’ve dated have done before. But right here, in bed, I feel safe with Wilder—safe with him and with my desires. I hardly care about the reasons we started our fake romance. I only care about these very real feelings right here, right now. “Do you want to unwrap me…and do whatever you want to me?” I ask, my gaze drifting down to the big bow, knocked a little out of place but still wrapped tight enough under my tits.
He growls. “I really fucking do.” His tone is raw and earnest. Then he runs a hand along my face, a reverent gesture. “Thank you for trusting me.”
It’s only a bow, I want to say.
But it’s not only a bow. It’s letting someone in, and that’s not my strong suit. But tonight I’ve gotten a little bit better at it. “I do trust you, but I want you naked too. Now, why don’t you strip for me. I would do it myself,” I say, then wiggle my fingers, “but I’m all tied up.”
“Don’t you dare unwrap my gift,” he warns in a commanding tone.
He hops off the bed and takes his sweet time flicking open the button on his jeans, then unzipping them and pushing them down.