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“Your pup has a pretty sweet life.”
“He deserves it. He was a stud dog in a puppy mill. He was about six when the sheriff closed the operation down, and he’d lived his whole life in a filthy wire crate.”
“Fuck. People are vile.”
She stepped up behind him and rested her head on his back. “Some people, yes. Not everyone, though.”
No. Not her.
Turning around, Dex framed her face in his hands.
As he bent to kiss her, she slipped her arms up and around his neck again. This time, as her body formed to his and he closed her into an eager embrace, he kept control of his head and turned all his focus to his body, cataloguing each sensation she elicited. The soft warmth of her skin, the lilt of her moans, the sinewy writhe of her limbs, the scent of her. Coconut and cinnamon, like a tropical Christmas.
She turned from the kiss with a gasp, but before Dex’s worries could rush in again, she hugged him tightly, nuzzling in his beard. “You feel so good,” she whispered and then dived in to take tiny nips of his neck.
“So do you,” he answered and grabbed the hem of her Christmas sweater. As soon as he did, Kelsey relaxed her hold of him and leaned back, lifting her arms high. Dex drew the sweater up, like he was opening a gift, and his heart throbbed to see the fair, smooth, perfect skin he bared. She wore a lacy pink bra, and the silky cups were thin enough to show how hard and tight her nipples had become.
As he tossed the sweater away, her hair fell over her shoulders in soft waves, the ends curling over the pink lace of her pretty bra. A silver chain lay on her chest, with three small charms dangling from it: a sparkling light green stone, a heart, and an infinity symbol.
He brushed a fingertip down the center of her chest, over those delicate charms, to the tiny white bow on her bra. “Jesus, you’re beautiful,” he said.
Her cheeks pinked, and her eyes fluttered shut. Dex drew her close again, brushed her hair back from her shoulders and bent to place his lips on one—and notice the faint sprinkle of blonde freckles there. He tried to kiss each one as he reached back to find the hooks of her bra.
When it was loose, he drew the satin straps from her shoulders and let it fall away.
And sweetfuck, look at her.
Dex dropped to his knees before her and held her tightly, resting his forehead on her belly. He felt her arms come around his head, then felt her bend, curling over him as if her slight body could shelter his much bigger, much tougher one.
The move brought her breasts close, and he turned his head and drew a firm, pearly nipple into his mouth.
“Oh,” she gasped softly. “Oh, yes. Please.”
He sucked harder, filling his mouth with her, and she moaned and gasped and trembled until Dex thought he’d explode. Clasping her to him, keeping her nipple in his mouth, he rolled to his feet, taking her off the floor.
Her bed was only a few steps away, and the mattress was high enough that he could lay her gently and follow with her without losing the suckling tempo of his mouth on her. As soon as his weight came down on her, she arched her back, pressing her breast even more firmly into his mouth.
Having her in his arms, feeling her react so eagerly, so enthusiastically, to his every touch made a kind of madness rise up in him. He could feel it, a desperate need, so intense it was almost hopeless, even as he held her, even as he knew she was his. His need was too great, too intense, it would burn them both alive.
“I love the way your beard feels!”
Her words, a gasping declaration, were a sudden balm, an infusion of reality, of sanity, and Dex found calm he needed. His ardor cooled to something he could keep tethered. He finally released her nipple and instead brushed his chin and cheeks over that wet, tender spot. When she whimpered and writhed in reaction, he chased and caught a wild thought and began to explore the whole terrain of her beautiful body, brushing his beard across her chest and over her other breast, sucking it deep, releasing it to move up higher, to her throat, and back down, between her breasts, over her flat, fluttering belly.
The button of her jeans rested a couple inches below her the long, narrow slit of her navel. He caught it in his teeth and popped it open, then found the pull of her zipper and drew that down with his teeth as well. A hint of pink lace peeked out from the gap.
He grabbed hold of her waistband and gave it a sharp tug, snatching her jeans and panties down to her thighs in a rush.
“Oh!” she cried, and lifted her hips to his face like an offering. He pressed his mouth to a neatly trimmed bush, the curls surprisingly dark. The hair on her head was pale gold, a color that never seemed to change. The hair on her body, everywhere but here at the nexus, was invisible or nonexistent. He’d never really thought about it before, but Kelsey was the only blonde in her family. Now he thought he understood why.
Then she pressed that dark wedge to his face, grinding herself on his beard, and the rich sweetness of her need filled his senses. Dex stopped thinking and yanked her jeans the rest of the way off.
He hooked her bare legs over his shoulders and settled in to feed.
Her pussy was sweet and pink and smooth, her thighs slim and firm and surprisingly strong, clamped as they were against his ears. Her hips writhed and bucked in time with his mouth; each lick, each suck, each nip drove her higher. Her hands found his head and clutched hunks of his hair, scratching and pulling, holding him in place.
He slid his hands up from her hips, over her belly, and found her breasts, her nipples. As he played there, flicking and plucking, she went into overdrive. He saw nothing, heard little but the speedy throb of his own heartbeat, but god, what hefelt. Her frenzied pleasure surrounded him, infused him.
This sweet, bright woman, sunshine personified, goodness and grace embodied, astonished him. In all his fantasies, he’d never imagined that she’d be so responsive, soeager. He’d detected no hesitation, no sudden shyness. What her tastes were in sex, he didn’t yet know, but it was blazingly apparent that she wantedhim.
