Page 18 of Grumpy Santa

I tilt my head to look at him and our eyes lock. He bends and then we’re kissing. I reach up around his neck and pull him closer to me. His tongue slicks over my lips and into my mouth. He growls into my mouth and rolls me so that I’m on my back and he’s partially on top of me.

His lips trail down my throat.

“Why aren’t we always kissing? We kiss well together,” I say arching into his kisses.

He licks that tender part just below my ear. “Because you left. I filled you with my cum, and then I fell asleep holding you. When I woke up, you were gone.”

I reach for the hem of his shirt to reach under it. I need to feel the heat of his skin. “I didn’t want things to be awkward between us. I didn’t want to see your face if you woke up and regretted it.”

He leans up and looks at me, his whiskey-colored eyes molten with desire. “Regret you? Never.”

Finally my hand breaches the layers of his shirts and I press my palm to his back.

I pull him back to a kiss and try to maneuver my body beneath his. I want to feel the weight of him pressing me into the bed.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about that night. The way you took my cock,” he murmurs. “The way you taste.” He inches down my body until he reaches my jeans. Then he’s flicking them open and peeling them down my legs.

“I’ve thought about it too. A lot.” I sit up and take off my shirt, then my bra. “I want to see you this time. Take off your clothes.”

He stands from the bed and pulls off his ball cap, setting it on the tall chest of drawers across the room. Then he’s toeing off his boots and removing his clothes, one item at a time. It’s like a silent strip tease.

I lean up on my elbows watching him. He is massive everywhere. Muscles upon muscles, tall and broad and so beautiful my mouth goes dry. He doesn’t have a defined six pack on his stomach, no, that’s a solid slab of sinew. A smattering of brown hair covers his chest and belly. I want to rub my cheek against it.

Finally he’s completely naked, and damn, he is masculine perfection.

“I touched myself when I thought of us together,” I admit.

He wraps a fist around the heavy root of his dick. “You’re so sexy,” he says.

Then he’s climbing on the bed and wedging his shoulders between my thighs. I grip the bedding, waiting for that first touch. He spreads my pussy lips, and then his mouth is on me. His beard abrades me, but in the best way possible. His tongue teases at my entrance, circling around and then sliding in and out, ever so gently. I buck and rock, trying in vain to get his mouth on my clit.

He chuckles. “Knödel, you are impatient.”

“I need you to lick my clit.”

“I know how to make you come. And I will decide when it happens. Be a good girl and be patient.”

I whimper at those words.

“Your pussy floods when I call you ‘good girl.’ Do you have a praise kink, my knödel?”

“I don’t know. I just like it when you say it.”

He sticks his tongue out and licks a line straight up to my clit all the while watching me with his golden eyes.

I shudder.

“I know what you need, Audrey. Trust me.”

“I do.”

He goes back to eating me, and it’s so good, I think I might actually die.

“Please make me come,” I beg.

He peers up at me. “Do you want to come on my mouth or my cock?”

“Your cock. I want your cock.”