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That just won’t do.
“Wider,” I rasp out, sinking to my knees on the floor next to the bed. I grab each ankle and drag her across the comforter, pulling her toward me until her pussy, pink and glistening, is only inches from my face. It’s ready for the tongue lashing it deserves, the one I’m about to release on it.
“Oh God,” she cries, her breath hitching as I lick her slit from ass to clit, my stubble scraping her skin. I’m glad I didn’t shave this morning.
My palms on each warm inner thigh hold her wide open. Her muscles quiver under my fingertips, even though I’m barely getting started. I flick my tongue over her bud and am rewarded with a low moan as her body arches.
I capture her clit between my lips and suck. Her hips lift off the bed and her legs strain to close, but I don’t give her an inch. Using the flat of my tongue, I swipe up her length again, burying my face deeper. Her scent, her taste, the feel of her finally relinquishing the control she holds on to so tight, it’s a heady combination and my cock twitches.
“Garrett,” she breathes, her fingers weaving through my hair, but I ignore the plea and continue to lavish attention on her pussy. I circle her entrance with my tongue, dipping inside as she clenches around me.
I swore to myself I was just going to taste her, but I can’t resist. I slide two fingers inside her tight channel. She contracts around me, her body clenching. It pushes her over the edge and she detonates.
An orgasm rips through her, every muscle in her body flexing as she cries my name. Her thighs squeeze my head and she squirms when I don’t stop, when I flick her clit again and again. But her sounds, the little sighs and groans, and murmurs I’m learning, and memorizing as fast as humanly possible, confirm she’s relishing every second.
CHAPTER11
VERONICA
I wadethrough the fog of a deep sleep and crack open a single eye. Too bright. Wincing, I roll over, dragging the thousand-count Egyptian cotton sheets and comforter with me. Some of my muscles are smarting as if I’ve just run the NYC marathon in record time, but others are so limp I could have just finished an hour-long Swedish massage.
It’s so cozy in this bed I feel like a hibernating bear who was woken up weeks before the first signs of spring. I have no idea what time it is, although the wall of windows reveals it’s well past dawn and snowing.
I haven’t slept this hard in years. Must have been thanks to the long evening of passionate sex with a man in his prime. A man who, although he claimed to be out-of-practice, knew his way around my body and exactly how to pleasure me over and over and over again. A man who was insatiable and wouldn’t stop until I was satisfied.
I’m naked and not surprised, but the effort of hunting for something to slip into seems so insurmountable at the moment I snuggle back into the warm cocoon and close my eyes. But my attempt to snooze is fruitless. I toss and turn, unable to drift off when the memories of yesterday, and last night, are a million times better than any dream.
I’m completely gone for him. And not just because he’s great in bed, although that certainly doesn’t hurt. Garrett is open and straightforward. He knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to go after it.
He’s lived and loved and lost and now wants me. And I want him. It’s that much sweeter because I didn’t think I’d ever feel this way about someone again, but I do.
Garrett’s not in here, but he can’t be far. The dozens of votives sprinkled around the spacious room are lit, casting their dancing shadows on the walls and ceiling. They smell like Christmas, and with a start, I remember it’s Christmas morning.
But rather than the dread that normally accompanies this holiday, my spirit is light. I’m optimistic about the future. For the chance to build a relationship with the single dad who hired me only days ago. My one hesitation remains what he wants. Garrett loves me, I have no doubt about that, but he wants marriage and I’m not there. Not yet, and honestly, I don’t know if I’ll ever be.
But dwelling on my concern is not how I want to spend Christmas morning. I yawn and stretch from head to toe, my neck cracking when I roll my head from side to side. The instinct to reach for my phone and check in with work is strong, but my phone’s not in here. Plus, the urge isn’t as intense as usual. I’ve got other things on my mind. Starting with tracking down a certain tall, dark, and handsome man whose bed I’m in.
Reluctantly, I throw back the covers and tug the sheet off to wrap around me as I pad into the bathroom. The space, twice the size of my bedroom, is a well-appointed oasis. It eclipses the spa on Fifth Avenue where Tierney and I treat ourselves to a day to celebrate our birthdays together every April by a mile.
The marble tiles are cool under my bare feet, but I pull up short at the sight of an enormous freestanding oval soaking tub, big enough for two. It’s surrounded by plush white towels and a basket of amenities. I perch on the edge and tuck the sheet under my arms so I can examine the assortment of bath bombs and salts, oils and loofahs, plus a selection of bubble baths that at first glance look like fine wine.
“I can draw you a bath.” Garrett’s low voice catches me off guard and I spin to find him leaning against the arched doorway in a t-shirt and jeans, sporting a sexy smile.
Automatically, I protest. I could do it myself. “Oh, you don’t have—”
“Let me,” he says, pushing off from the wall to come to my side. “I want to.” He brushes my hair behind my shoulder. “That is, unless you’d like coffee first.”
My ears perk up. “Coffee?”
“And breakfast.”
“You’ve had a busy morning.”
“Actually,” he says, rubbing his stubble. “I slept in and skipped my workout. I should tell Kendall. She’d be proud.”
Why? “Because it’s Christmas?”
“Because,” he says, pressing a kiss to my hair. “I had better things to do.”
