Misadventures of a Curvy Girl (Misadventures #18)(57)
Christmas Eve
“Greta! No! Bad Greta!”
My dog has grabbed the end of Ireland’s long scarf with her teeth and is trying to tug it free of its owner, growling a little at the red fabric when it doesn’t do as the dog likes.
Laughing, I come over and pry Greta’s teeth off the scarf and then banish her to the kitchen to her bed by the wood-burner. Normally we don’t get much snow in December here, but as an early Christmas surprise, the skies darkened and rumbled and dumped a good eighteen inches onto our hilly stretch of the plains. Enough snow to cover the long grass on the hills that crest around the farm—more than enough to sled on.
And sled we did, Greta-dog bounding through the drifts around us as we took turns on my childhood Flexible Flyer, and we went down the hill so fast that even Ben giggled.
Ben. Giggled.
And now we’re back home, red-faced and snow-crusted, and I know exactly what I want to do with the rest of my Christmas Eve. I unwind the rest of the scarf from Ireland’s neck as she pulls off her hat. Clouds of silky dark hair glisten with specks of powdery snow, and as she tosses her hat onto the table, I can see several big snowflakes still caught in her eyelashes.
Beautiful.
Ben catches on to what I want to do right away and joins me in undressing our woman. He tugs off her gloves, slowly, finger by finger, and then kisses her red, cold-nipped fingertips until she’s shivering from something other than cold. We unzip her jeans and peel the denim from her legs, and I drop to my knees and press my face against the cold skin of her thighs while Ben takes off her sweater.
“Your beard tickles,” she says, but her laughter changes into a soft gasp when I mouth the soft triangle between her legs, letting my warm breath blow over the silk that cups her pussy. Even after all these months, she still gets this hitched, surprised breath when I touch her there. It goes to a man’s head, all that wonder. And the look on her face when I make her come? Makes me feel about eight feet tall.
I want to see that look now, even though we aren’t anywhere near a bed, and I press my lips harder against her and kiss her through the fabric, licking and licking until she’s soaked through and rocking her pussy against me.
“Put your hands in his hair,” Ben grates out. “He likes that. He likes being your toy, don’t you, Caleb?”
My nod has the added bonus of stroking my tongue against her clit, and she cries out, her hand threading through my hair and holding me fast to her cunt.
I obey the unspoken command, sucking her pouting little bud until her thighs are quivering against my face, and then I hook a finger around the wet fabric and allow myself a taste straight from the source. I slick my tongue between her folds as I coax one of her legs over my shoulder, and she leans back against Ben for balance as I fuck her cunt with my mouth.
“That’s it,” Ben coaxes darkly. “Open up your pussy for Caleb. Let him inside.”
She slides her leg farther across my shoulder, and the plump outer petals of her sex unfurl even more, allowing me to lick deep, right at the very heart of her. I fumble with my fly as I taste her, unable to stop myself from pulling out my erection and giving it a few rough strokes.
Fuck, she tastes good. Sweet, with the tiniest hint of sour and salt. Her pussy is so tight, even around my tongue, and it makes me shudder with anticipation to think of how it’s going to feel on my cock. Wet and hot and squeezing me, like her body is demanding my come.
I’ll give it to her. Now that we’ve all been tested and she’s on birth control, we can finally fuck raw, and the feeling is like nothing else in this world. My cock gives a hard flex just knowing what it’s about to get.
Ireland writhes against my mouth, and I realize Ben has his cock freed too so her silk-covered ass can rub against him. He’s got his big hand wrapped around her throat now, and whatever he’s murmuring in her ear has her getting more and more worked up. I can taste her need, and I can feel it in the fierce tug of her fingers through my hair.
“Enough,” Ben finally growls. “Up to bed. I need to fuck.”
Stumbling upstairs, Ben and me shedding clothes as we go, we kiss and grope and grab until we’re all in our bed. I drag Ireland against me so her tits are crushed into my chest, and I lick at the seam of her mouth until she parts it and lets me in. I can never get enough of kissing her, of feeling her lips so soft and yielding against mine, and her tongue like hot silk with her perpetual cinnamon taste from her favorite gum.
I reach down to mold my hand over her cunt, and my fingers brush against Ben’s fingers as he plays with the little star of her ass, probing it open a little more roughly and urgently than normal.
He knows what we’re going to do tonight, and it’s got him all worked up. I can’t blame him. I could almost come against Ireland’s soft belly right now just thinking about it. But I hold it together long enough for Ben to order Ireland to take my cock and feed it inside her.
There’s a moment—always that first moment—when the plump head won’t fit. When my erection is too big and her pussy is too small, and the pressure is so insane that I think I might erupt right then and there, before the entire tip is even inside.
I live for that moment.
Holding my cock in both hands, she stirs the swollen head against her opening before she tries again, rocking and circling until finally, finally, I start to sink into her tiny channel.