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“Want to see what Christmas movies are on?” he asks.
I stare at him over my hot chocolate mug. “Have I brought you over to the dark side?” I lean back into the couch and blow on my drink.
“I’m not sure I’d go that far, but I figure that’d be your preference and I aim to please.”
Part of me is disappointed I haven’t been able to make him fall in love with Christmas, but I still think I’ve softened him to the idea. This might be a marathon and not a sprint. The man I met on our blind date would not have put together a spread of hot chocolates and offered to watch a holiday movie. Baby steps, but steps forward just the same.
“Well, I’ll never turn down a Christmas movie. But you pick this time.”
“All right.” He lifts the remote off the table and scrolls the stations for a few minutes before he settles onNational Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation,which probably ranks at the top of my list of all-time favorite holiday comedy movies.
Once we’re both done enjoying our hot chocolates, I cuddle up to where he’s seated in the corner. His arm wraps around me and drapes over my shoulders, his hand hanging near my upper arm where he aimlessly lets his thumb rub the cotton of my shirt. There’s nothing innately sexy about the movement, but with each pass of his thumb, it feels as if he’s running it over a raw nerve that makes me want to press my thighs together. My breathing picks up and my breasts grow heavy.
I know Andrew said he wants to hold off on progressing physically with each other, but man oh man, he’s making it difficult. With this one gentle touch, it feels as if he’s mercilessly teasing me. That, coupled with the scent of his heady cologne and the feel of his hard chest against my cheek, has long since stolen my attention away from Clark Griswold.
The tension in my body grows tighter and tighter until I feel as if I’m a rubber band that’s been stretched to its limit. I tilt my head back and look up at Andrew. As though he feels my gaze on him, he looks down and our eyes find one another’s. Only seconds pass before our lips meet.
I guess I’m not the only one strung tight with the sexual tension between us. Our kiss is deep and desperate.
He tastes sweet like hot chocolate, and he devours me with his kiss. I grow wet between my thighs and my nipples pebble. A soft moan escapes me, and it must be his undoing because he grabs my waist with both hands and hoists me up and over so that I’m straddling him.
The feel of the hard ridge of his cock in his pants causes me to grind down onto him. He lets out a growl and his tongue glides up the side of my neck to my earlobe.
“Meant to tell you when you took your coat off earlier, love the shirt.”
Not what I was expecting him to say, but I smile. I was thinking of him when I put on my shirt that says, “When I think about you, I touch my elf.” A cartoon elf at the very bottom hem hangs in front of my pussy.
“I thought you might.” I try to keep my voice even, but it comes out weak and breathy as he bites my earlobe.
“Mind if I take it off?” He leans back and meets my gaze, waiting for approval.
I nod. I know it’s not what we talked about, but I’m horny and all the reasons he talked about waiting don’t matter right now.
He takes the hem of my shirt and lifts it over my head in one swoop, leaving me in my white lace bra and black leggings. My stomach fizzes with nerves as his gaze roams my body, but it’s clear he likes what he sees when I feel his dick grow even stiffer underneath me.
Andrew leans in, capturing my nipple with his mouth and running his tongue over the lace. It’s just enough to give me an idea of what it would feel like if I wasn’t wearing my bra, but not enough to satisfy me. He does the same thing to the other breast, and my hands push into his hair and tug. I need more.
As though he can read my mind, he undoes my bra, sliding the straps down my arms and tossing the lace aside. He squeezes and holds the weight of my tits in his palms. His thumbs rub over the nipples a few times, making them stiffer, then he pinches each and squeezes. The sensation is both pleasure and pain and my head whips back.
I feel his mouth on my right nipple while his hand explores my other breast. I look down as he worships my tits. There’s something übererotic about just being the observer while he pleasures me. My breathing picks up until I’m panting.
“Andrew,” I moan, expecting what, I don’t know. All I know is I don’t want this to end.
His fingers rub my mound over my leggings. Instinctively, I grind down on his hand, desperate for more friction.
“You like that?” He meets my gaze, waiting for my answer.
I nod, words too complex for my brain to figure out right now.
While still holding my gaze, he moves his hand away and I whimper from the loss. But he snakes his hand down past the elastic waist of my leggings to my mound.
He wastes no time spreading me, groaning when he feels how wet I am. “This all for me?”
Again, I can only nod. He grins a self-satisfied smile, and though that same grin probably would’ve pissed me off the night we met, right now it holds the kind of promise I’m looking for—like he knows he’s already earned it.
He pushes one finger into me, then another and curves them. My hands tighten in his hair as the sensation rockets through my core and radiates outward.
I assume he’s going to continue, but instead, he drags his fingers out of me and brings his hand to my breast, rubbing his wet fingers over my nipples and spreading my essence there. Then he moves in and sucks hard on one, then the other.
