The Plight Before Christmas(105)

Orders die on my tongue as he delivers on every one without prompt while I hold on for dear life. His chest bounces uncontrollably with fast breaths that hit my ears as I hold onto him, frantically grappling for any semblance of the woman I was mere minutes ago. Batting the fear aside, I allow myself to get lost as he frantically pumps into me, filling me again and again. We share breath as our kisses get sloppy, urgent. Our movements become jerky, completely unrehearsed as we’re overcome with the desperate need to get closer.

“Eli,” I warn.

“I’m there,” he counters as we both begin to fly toward the edge.

The sheer force of emotion in my chest combined with his movements steals my ability to speak as he plunges into me, and I crest over. The pulse of his orgasm extends my bliss for endless seconds. After what seems like a mere second of recovery, Eli lifts and kisses me breathless before murmuring. “Now that’s out of the way…” His fingers travel south—as do his lips—as his eyes light with blue fire. “It’s so fucking on.”




Stamina. Stamina. Stamina. Stamina. Stamina.

The man has upped his game.

If it’s possible to go out tonight due to death by orgasm, I’m cool with it.

Count? I have no idea.

Palms braced on his muscular thighs, Eli spreads them wider, my back to his chest, one hand palming my throat, keeping me locked to him as the other massages my clit. He pumps his thick cock in and out of me in measured strokes from beneath as I climb.

“Made for me,” he whispers heatedly, “for me,” he declares, increasing his pace as I bounce on his girth once again on the verge.

“Eliiiii, I’m—”

“I know,” he whispers, with a hint of smug amusement, “I can feel you tightening around me because you fit me. Now,” he whispers, flicking my clit like he’s plucking the perfect note, “give it up.” Body shuddering, I pulse around him as he turns my head, delivering his kiss, tongue first. I suck on it feverishly, going limp in his arms, and I can feel his smile against my ear when I go lax against him.

“You done playing?”

“Mmmm,” is the only reply I can muster as Eli flips me to all fours on the mattress, gripping the back of my neck before burying himself to the hilt. His name spills from me as he begins to fuck me ruthlessly. Arching my back, I match his thrusts taking him deeper.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmurs, his hands gripping my hips as he pistons his own. We’ve spent our time wisely, going from tender lovemaking to filthy fucking and back again, delivering on the heated promises we’ve been making with our eyes, and I. Can’t. Get. Enough.

“Coming again, Bee?” he whispers as I crest over, squeezing him as his beautiful inches hit me perfectly, riding me again past satiation. Feeling him harden further, I know he’s close, and he stops suddenly and dips, kissing the small of my back as he pulls out of me before gently turning me over.

“I don’t want it to end,” he whispers, running a gentle thumb up and down my landing strip before lowering it to massage my clit.

“Eli—”

“There’s so much I want to do to you, with you. I can’t fucking wait,” he breathes. “How long do we have?”

“Twenty minutes, tops.”

“Shit,” he dips and briefly sucks my clit before slowly pressing his cock back into me. The second I begin to move my hips, he grips and stills them.

“Hell no, I’m fucking you.” He drives the point home by pinning my wrists above my head and thrusting into me, hard.

Eyes hooded, he gazes down at me, his whispers filthy, as I memorize the look of his toned body, which is bathed in the moonlight—the corded muscle of his shoulders, the flex of his pecs as he works his hips.

He’s mine. Mine. Mine to admire, mine to lust after. Mine to love.

I read his expression and see the same possessiveness in his gaze.

“Yours,” I murmur. His eyes close as he increases his speed, and I know it was that word that set him off. When I again get lost in the skilled roll of his hips, in his naked form, he grips my chin.

“Look at me,” he commands, “watch me come.” He thrusts in, once, twice, and his lips part as he pulses inside of me. A long groan pours out of his throat as I topple over with him, clenching around him and taking every drop.

Exhales hitting my dampened skin, he gazes down at me as he pulls out slowly, and I wince. “Sore?” He flashes me a wicked grin. “Want me to lick it better?”

“Still so dirty,” I murmur, stroking his shoulders with my palms.

“You tainted me,” he says, tracing his finger around my nipple, “stole my innocence.”

“Well, wherever your sexual imagination came from, it wasn’t me.”

“Inspired by you,” he smiles as his eyes trail down my body and back up. When he pauses his finger, I look up to see his expression softening as his eyes implore. “Whitney, I want you to come home with me after Christmas. I want to know everything I don’t. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work. We don’t live that far apart.” He laces our fingers. “Will you consider it?”

“Yes,” I say, not being able to think of a single reason why not as I squeeze his hand. “So much has changed…I’m still reeling.” I catch the lock of hair cresting over his brow and thread it back into his thick mane. He catches my hand as I withdraw it and kisses my palm.