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Good thing I’d already ruined my panties because my eyes practically crossed as I imagined myself on my knees in front of this gorgeous, thoughtful man, taking him into my mouth, tasting his musky saltiness.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Piper?”
I nodded my head against his chest and then made my decision. In for a penny, in for a pound. I slid to my knees in front of him, aware of my audience, knowing Benedict and James would be watching with rapt eyes as I touched Ibrahim. Desire spiraled through me. “James can wait,” I whispered as I unbuckled his belt and opened his pants.
“Fuck,” one of my men swore from behind me as I took out Ibrahim’s cock, hot and hard, already dripping precum. I ran my finger through the salty liquid, then sucked on it. Ibrahim stroked his fingers through my hair, his deep brown eyes hooded and dark with desire.
When I finally stuck out my tongue to lick the tip of him, he groaned, shuddering with need, his hands opening and closing in my hair, as if resisting the urge to take control of my movements. For the first time in my life, I realized how much power I held when I held a man’s length in my hand, the control I had over his pleasure. On my knees before Ibrahim, I didn’t feel like the dirty whore desperate for male attention I’d always felt like before.
I felt like a queen. His queen.
The taste of Ibrahim exploded on my tongue, salty and hot, as I wrapped my tongue around him, exploring his length with wet kisses and sweet licks. I looked up through my lashes to find him staring down at me with wonder.
“Goddamn, Piper,” he swore when I finally took the head into my mouth, sucking and swirling my tongue around it like the end of a candy cane. I propped one hand on his thigh for balance, then took him as deeply as I could, hollowing out my cheeks with the effort.
The urge to gag was overwhelming. I fought it as I took him deeper and deeper. Ibrahim lifted his hands from my head and clenched them into fists at his sides as his hips made minute thrusts toward me.
I pulled my mouth off of him, fisting his length and running my hand up and down him before taking his hands and setting them back on my head. “Green, Ibrahim,” I whispered, hoping he’d understand what I wanted.
Tentatively, gently, he wrapped his long fingers around the back of my head as I wrapped my lips around him. His first thrust was hesitant—weak—as if he weren’t sure I wanted it. When I moaned around him, he jerked in my mouth, and then directed my head up and down in time with the movement of his hips.
God, this was the hottest thing I’d ever done to a man.
I fisted the root of him and swirled my tongue as he plunged further and further into my throat. When I gagged and tears streamed down my face, he pulled out. “I said green, dammit,” I snapped, pulling on his hips. I was determined to give him the same pleasure he’d so sweetly given me the day before, to worship him with the same attentiveness.
A few moments later, he shattered in my mouth and I struggled to swallow it all. Despite my efforts, it spilled out of my lips. He chuckled as he drew out, then swept the dribble back into my mouth with his thumb. Why was that so hot?
“Piper, you are incredible,” Ibrahim choked out.
I lowered myself until I rested on my heels, absurdly pleased with myself, groaning as I felt the plug shift within me. Ibrahim stood above me, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. Behind me, warm hands clasped my hips and helped me to my feet. “You are fucking perfect, Piper,” James murmured in my ear.
To my utter surprise, Ibrahim drew me into his arms for a kiss without hesitation, licking himself off of my lips, then diving inside to stroke my tongue with his own. When he’d had his fill of me, he slowed the kiss, then leaned his forehead against mine.
“I have to get cleaned up,” I whispered, knowing my mascara had smudged down my face, and my lipstick had smeared.
“I love you looking like this, messy and sexy,” he answered against my lips.
I chuckled and drew away from him. “But the Christmas carolers won’t.”
Sauntering into the bathroom, feeling like the sexiest woman in the world, I repaired my face so that we could enjoy our Christmas Eve in Denver.
Chapter Eight
Piper
WHEN I EMERGED FROM Benedict’s room—Benedict’s and my room—the three men were bundling up and getting ready to go. On the table was a large silver box with an enormous bow on top.
Benedict wrapped his arm around my waist and guided me over to it. “Merry Christmas,” he whispered.
“You didn’t have to,” I said, running my fingers over the shiny cardboard.
He laughed. “I did, actually.”
I lifted the lid off the box and carefully opened the tissue paper. Inside were red leather gloves trimmed in fur, sitting on top of a gorgeous red coat. I set the gloves on the table and lifted out the coat. It was thick and warm, made of wool and cashmere. I turned to him, my eyes wide and my hands trembling.
“This is too much, Benedict. You shouldn’t have.”
Benedict took it from me, his movements gentle and slow as he walked behind me. He threaded my arms through the sleeves, then spun me so that he could button it from the collar to where it hit my knees. His fingers traced my hips as he gathered the belt to tie it at my waist.
