Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 145731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
He drops his face to my chest and makes the most decadent moans as he hungrily licks off every last drop of candy cane whipped cream and candy cane bits from my breasts. When he’s done, I’m squirming on the bed, my skin sticky from the sugar and cream, my thighs aching with want.
“And to think once upon a time you spat a candy cane in punch,” I muse, even though my breath comes out in staggered gasps.
The corner of his lips quirks up. “I guess this was meant to be.”
For a hot, delirious second those words race through me. It almost feels like we could be that way. But then I kick that thought out of my head. This is sex. A delicious midnight sex surprise. That is all.
My eyes drift down to a huge bulge in his jeans. “Well, is that a candy cane in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”
His eyes narrow. “Isla, I’m always happy to see you,” he says, then moves off the bed and stands at the foot of it, unbuttoning his jeans slowly, like a stripper, like a tease. I’m even more turned on than I was before. He takes his time pushing his jeans down, and when they’re just past his hips, I do a double take.
“Rowan,” I whisper, barely able to contain my own excitement over his…outfit.
“Yes, sweetheart?” He sounds so damn pleased, and his confidence is the hottest thing ever.
“You wore them for me.”
“Of course I did. It’s all for you, sweetheart.” Then he drops his jeans to the floor.
He’s wearing only the candy cane boxers that his teammates gave him and that he sent me a photo of long ago. “I’ve been hoping you would wear them for me,” I admit, a stupid smile on my face.
“Yeah?”
“They make you festive as fuck,” I say.
“And that turns you on?” he asks while rubbing the heel of his hand against his hard length.
I part my legs for him so he can see the evidence of my arousal. “Well, do I look festive as fuck?”
With a salacious groan, he stares wantonly at my center. “You really fucking do.”
He climbs onto the bed, reaches for my panties, and skims them off in seconds. He looks like he’s about to dive in and feast on me, but I say, “Give me your dick. I want to taste you.”
Normally, he’s all too happy to eat me up, but he must hear how desperately I want him since he pushes off his boxers, then straddles me up above my tits. He leans forward, offering me his cock. It’s glistening at the tip with a bead of arousal.
I part my lips, asking for him. He feeds me the head of his dick, and I greedily lick it. I draw him in as much as I can with my hands tied, sucking and licking till he’s moaning and groaning.
And fucking my eager mouth. Like I want him to. I’m sloppy and loud, but squirming as I try to get as much of him as I can.
With a bitten-off groan, he says, “Enough,” then eases out. “Can’t wait any longer. Need to feel you right fucking now.”
I strain against the scarves, lifting my hips. “In case it wasn’t clear, that’s exactly where I want you.”
He reaches for a condom from a collection on the nightstand, then rolls it on. After settling between my thighs, he sinks inside me. I arch my back, so hungry for him. Pleasure shoots through me, sparking through all my veins, filling all of my cells. I’m close already.
When he grabs my hips and practically slams me onto his cock, I scream out in pleasure, “So good.”
“I know,” he grunts out. “It’s always so good with you, sweetheart. It’s so fucking good I can barely stand how much I want you.” He sounds borderline mad at himself, and it’s hot as hell.
His cock is masterful, hitting me in the right spot over and over, and I ache to touch him, to rake my nails over his back, to grip his ass and encourage him deeper, but the scarves keep me restrained, and that naughty thrill lights me up again.
“It’s driving me fucking crazy how much I need you,” he grunts out as he thrusts deep into me.
“How crazy?” I ask, egging him on.
“It’s infuriating,” he says with another rough punch of his hips. Pleasure bursts inside me, coiling tight and hot, and I’m not far off.
“Then fuck it out,” I urge. “Fuck it out now.”
He takes my command and runs with it, pumping hard and fast, a punishing rhythm. When I feel close, I strain against the scarves even more.
“Want me to free you?” he rasps out.
“No. I want you to make me come.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
As he fucks me hard, he rubs dizzying circles on my clit, owning my pleasure as I’m tied up with my scarves, the remnants of candy cane bits and whipped cream on my body. Soon, very soon, he sends me over the edge after midnight. Seconds later, he’s grunting and cursing as he follows me there.