Page 23 of Dumped for a Christmas Tree Farmer

His fingers grips my elbow, his calloused hands squeezing, drawing me in until we’re mere inches apart. If I tilted my head up now, I’d feel his breath on my lips. I’d taste the hot cocoa Scott made us on his tongue. Instead, he grips my palm so I can’t take a step back.

“If you’re going to touch me, Indy, actually touch me.”

He tugs me closer. This time my hand splays against the bruise, and I hear him hiss in my ear. The warmth of his stomach penetrates through my palm. Is it hot in here? It’s hot in here, right?

I peek up at him and his blown-wide pupils; he’s practically panting as he shifts his hips toward me. We both look down, and there it is: the biggest bulge I’ve seen in my life. He’s not even ashamed; he’s not even trying to hide it. I move my eyeline back to his, and the man has the audacity to shrug, like seeing a python in his pants is just another Tuesday. My mouth waters. What would it be like to cup his cock now? Would all pretense of trying to get our respective partners back be gone? Would one night scratch the itch we’ve obviously both been feeling the last two days?

As Mav slides his hand around the back of my neck and tugs the strands of my hair between his fingers, the pooling in my belly tells me I’d never forget a night with Maverick Stone. He tilts my head so our lips are a mere inch apart, my grip on his waist tightening, the slow ache of heat and clenching muscles throbbing in my lower belly. I’m going to kiss Mav. I’m going to kiss Holly’s future husband, and I don’t care enough to stop it. I don’t care that he’s going to leave me for her. I don’t care that I’ll end up alone again. All I care about is the pressure of his lips when he finally kisses me, the rough bite of his teeth before he swirls a soothing tongue around my nipple, the swift smack of his palm against my pussy before he thrusts himself into me. Maverick Stone is going to give me everything I need. And I’m going to take it.

The sharp pinch at my nape tells me it’s going to be anything but loving. He’s rough all over: his calloused hands, his hardened fingertips, the steel pipe in his pants that's pushing against my sex. A whimpered moan escapes me before I can stop it. A sly smile grows on his lips before his eyes dip down to mine.

“Fuck it.”

His mouth crushes against mine, wasting no time before his tongue runs along the seam of my lips, exploring my mouth like he’s trying to taste every inch. His tongue flicks, exploring, and I’m coiled so tight it’s like I’ve forgotten how to breathe. My hands roam his chest, the muscles hot beneath my touch. I scratch the skin, pulling him closer, closer. I want everything. My body heats as I wrap a leg around his waist, and his hand slides up the back of my thigh before gripping my ass. He backs me against a table as we vie for dominance, the assault on my mouth pausing as he peppers wet, open-mouthed kisses down my neck.

As he cups my sex, heat blooms as the heel of his palm finds my clit.

I’m going to die if I don’t get naked right now.

I pull off my sweater, my cami beneath revealing my cleavage, and Mav groans.

“You’re killing me here, Indecent,” he moans into my breasts, pulling down the stretchy material along with the cup of my lacy bra. The stiffened peak of my nipple beckons him, and he rolls his tongue around it.

“Not my name,” I say, my head rolling back as I pull at the hairs on the nape of his neck, holding him against my breast.

“Are you sure? There’s no other word to describe these tits, Indy. These tits, this pussy.” He cups my sex again. “Is this pussy wet for me, sweetheart? Are you soaking your indecent little panties for me?”

Holy shit.

His words spread over me like butter on toast, melting, filling every crevice. The hard throb of his erection pulses against my clit as I wrap my legs around his waist, hooking my ankles together. He pushes me down onto the kitchen table, kissing down my breasts, my stomach, biting at my sex over the top of my leggings.

“I can already smell how turned on you are. Such a dirty girl aren’t you, Indy?”

God, why is that so hot?

“Yes,” I whimper, arching my back.

“Need to be fucked by a real man, that does real work. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, God, yes, I want it.”

“You want to be fucked by me, Indy. Say it.”

I open my eyes and watch him staring at me with dark eyes, blown pupils like he’s taking me like a drug, like I’m overpowering his senses. The only thing that makes sense is more, more, more.

“Say it,” he repeats.

“I want you to fu—”

A buzzing interrupts us, and Mav pulls back sharply. His gaze runs down my body. He’s on the edge, like a coil wound too tight. He’s ready to snap at any moment. Our heavy pants accompany the ringing of his phone, and we stare at each other for a moment.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket.

“I need to answer this.”

“Are you kidding me right now?” My eyes widen.

He ignores me, answering the phone whilst rubbing his palm over his three-day-old stubble. The rough scrape has inner walls tightening. “Charlie. Talk to me.”