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She bats her eyelashes, feigning an innocent expression. “Because I’m a professional, Mr. Sinclair. I don’t mix business with pleasure.”
“That’s a damn shame.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because it’s so much more fun this way.”
To prove my point, I smash our lips together, and she yelps in surprise when I flip her over so she’s lying flat on the bed.
“What are you doing?” she squeaks.
“I’m starving, baby. I want to finally get a taste of this perfect pussy.”
I move to her apex, nipping at her inner thigh. When she tries to move, I hold her legs apart, pressing my nose against her core, inhaling her delicious scent. She arches her back against the bed as I lick along her seam from her pussy to her ass.
“Jack,” she groans.
I don’t hesitate to plunge my tongue inside her cunt, devouring her like she’s my last meal. She throws her hands on my shoulders, chanting, “Yes,” over and over, drowning in euphoria while I satisfy my appetite.
Damn, this must be what heaven feels like.
Presley’s wet with her arousal, and this time, I don’t make her wait long. I alternate between blowing soft puffs of air against her clit and pinching it firmly between my fingers, teasing her for only a moment before setting off her impending orgasm. Within seconds, her release erupts, and I bask in the taste of her against my tongue.
“Taste how delicious you are.” I raise my head and mold my mouth to hers, groaning when she licks my lips. “You’re such a good girl,” I croon.
“You’re a bad influence, Mr. Sinclair.”
“Maybe, but something tells me you don’t mind.”
I caress her cheek, tracing her jaw with my fingertips as silence lingers between us. I wonder if she realizes that this is far more than just having fun, and if she hasn’t, what it’s going to take to get her there.
“Jack.” Presley’s soft voice breaks through my thoughts.
“Hmm?”
“Please don’t go home until after Christmas.” There’s a hint of vulnerability in her voice that wasn’t there before.
“Why would I leave? We haven’t checked everything off your holiday wishlist yet,” I tell her, feeling confident there’s no way we got through the whole list in only a handful of days.
“Yes, we have,” she says solemnly.
Presley leans over, grabbing a piece of paper from the nightstand. She unfolds it and hands it to me.
Presley’s Holiday Wishlist
1. Go ice skating
2. Visit the local Christmas market
3. Try a roasted chestnut
4. Write a letter to Santa
5. Make a gingerbread house
6. Holiday movie marathon + hot chocolate
7. Decorate a real Christmas tree
