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“Kinda testing the limits of me, Chloe.”
She giggled. “One of my favorite things to do.”
Fuck it.
Rocket shoved the jeans to the ground the stuck his fingers in the sides of the briefs.
“No!” Chloe barked. “So impatient. That’s my job.”
“I hate these fucking things.”
Another giggle. “I know. But I love how they mold to your cock. And how I can do this.” As she lowered the band, his cock sprang out, nearly hitting her in the face. “Damn, that was a snug fit.”
She had no fucking idea.
“Think we should make these a Christmas tradition. Don’t know why, but knowing you were wearing these things has made me want to suck your cock all day.”
“Christ, woman. You’re fucking killing me.” He flattened his hands against the wall and willed himself not to come from her words alone. Not that he wouldn’t love to see that pretty face bathed in his come as he shot off, but he really, really wanted to feel her sucking— “Jesus, fuck!”
She sucked him to the back of her throat. The room spun, and his knees went fucking weak as she worked him. Her hands curled around his bare thighs, holding him in place. Up and down she went, using just the right amount of suction with each pass. Every few seconds, she paused to pay special attention to the head of his cock, his favorite thing in the fucking world. When that sexy little tongue of hers worked the underside of his cockhead, he saw fucking stars.
“Fuck, that mouth.”
“Mmm,” she hummed, the vibrations traveling straight up his cock and landing in his balls. As though following the path, her soft hand cupped him, and his eyes rolled back in his head.
There was no way he could keep his hands from going to her head. As he held her in place, the silky strands of her hand sliding through his fingers, he punched his hips forward. God, he hoped that wasn’t too much for her because he didn’t think he had the power to keep still.
Chloe moaned again, and he thrust forward, fucking her mouth in a steady rhythm now. She took it all, playing with his balls as he lost his mind. The next time he hit the back of her throat, she tightened her hand on his balls and gave a gentle tug. “Fuck, Chloe,” he shouted as spurt after spurt of hot come flooded her mouth.
The sight of Chloe’s throat reflexively swallowing his load never got old. All the energy seemed to leave his body with the orgasm, and he sagged against the wall.
“Merry Christmas,” Chloe said with laughter in her voice.
Rocket pried his eyes open and stared down at his woman, still on her knees. She licked her lips, causing him to groan. She was a fucking goddess.
“Get up here, baby.” He hauled her to her feet and sealed his mouth over hers. Didn’t matter that he could taste himself on her tongue. All that mattered was her flavor on his lips. He spun them, pressing her back to the wall.
“When do we have to be downstairs?” she asked, panting as he kissed his way from her jaw to her earlobe.
A quick glance over his shoulder at the clock revealed it was two fifty-five. “Five minutes.”
“Shit,” she said with a groan. “Not enough time.”
Rocket chuckled. “Challenge accepted,” he said as he slid his hand down the front of Chloe’s leather leggings. No way was she going to give him such a monster orgasm and not get hers in return. “All I need is three.”
“Oh, shit,” Chloe said on a breath when his fingers slid through her wetness. Her head fell against the door, and heavy-lidded eyes stared at him.
“You ready?”
A slightly drunk looking smile appeared on her lips. “Do your worst.”
Chloe’s brother was gonna skin him alive him after he caught sight of her floating down the stairs with mussed, post-blow job hair and a satisfied grin on her face. Not that he cared. Years from now, he wanted Chloe to look back on their first Christmas together with a big fucking smile.
A screaming orgasm right before dinner ought to take care of that.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
COPPER
As Copper rose from his chair, he took a moment to soak up the atmosphere. His family sat around multiple tables in the clubhouse, seconds away from digging into a feast the ol’ ladies had outdone themselves creating. The aroma of crispy-skinned turkey, sugary ham, and a host of sides wafted around the space making his mouth water in anticipation of the meal. A giant Christmas tree took up one corner of the clubhouse, decorated by none other than Maverick a few weeks ago.
His brothers and their women chatted, laughed, and drank as they waited for him to announce it was time to dig in. As of yet, no one had noticed he’d stood. On his right, Beth bounced in her seat as she nibbled on a roll she’d stolen from the kitchen a few moments ago. Shell sat on the other side of her chatting away with Izzy, who held a sleeping infant in her arm. How the baby managed to sleep through the boisterous excitement of their family would forever be a mystery to him.
