Page 39 of Naughty-ish

His fingers tickle the insides of my thighs, teasing me as he draws closer to my center. “How naughty do you want to be?”

“Very, please.” My own voice is unrecognizable as I sweetly beg.

“Still too polite.” He chuckles into my skin while his fingers trail all the way up my legs and stroke over the wetness in my underwear.

I whimper with need.

“You’re wet,” he murmurs at my ear, kissing just below the lobe. I want his mouth and I turn my head, hoping he’ll kiss me like he did during the party. Instead, he presses a kiss to my shoulder while his fingers slip inside my panties. His head pops up, eyes seeking mine. “You’re soaked.”

He’s touched me before. He shouldn’t be surprised. Still, I’m embarrassed by how ready I am for him, and I turn away, but he catches my chin and gently forces me to face him. Keeping his eyes on mine, he lazily slips a finger inside my channel.

My breath hitches. My eyes shutter closed. His touch feels incredible as he works his finger in and out. In and out. I’m so wet I hear the suction. He releases my chin, and I twist again, my back fully to his front as he works a second finger into me.

“Look at how I touch you.” The command forces my gaze to fall between my thighs, watching him please me inside my underwear. The wooden chair beneath him creaks as my hips start to undulate, working in tandem with his fingers sliding to and fro. I don’t know what to do with my hands, so I reach behind me with one arm and cup the back of his head. My other hand rests on my thigh as my leg trembles, and a quake begins. My belly jitters, and my toes curl in my heels.

I can’t watch, but I feel . . . oh, do I feel him.

“I’m so close,” I warn.

“I know, honey. Be naughty on my lap.” More words float from his mouth, getting filthier, gaining speed in dirty directions. His thumb presses at my clit, strumming over it.

“Oh God,” I whimper again. Like the logs in his fireplace, I crackle and hiss and come apart from the heat racing up my center. The flame is so fast, my breath catches. I sizzle from the release. I want to squeeze my legs together, but he keeps me in place, spread over his thighs as I am, open and exposed. Slowly, I come down from the high, but like a candy cane addict, I want more.

Nick senses my hunger when he frees his fingers but continues to stroke over my sensitive folds. My legs still tremble but my hips rock, eager to keep his attention.

“Gonna get naughtier.” He presses me forward to remove me from his lap. I stand with my back to him but glance over my shoulder and watch him unbutton the remaining buttons on his jeans. He shucks them down his hips enough to release a beautiful cock.

Long, and hard, and ready for the taking.

He reaches for a little box on the bookshelf beside him. Inside, he pulls out a foil packet and holds it up for me to see. We don’t need to talk about this. He’s keeping us both safe, and I dismiss any thoughts of how readily he had a condom available. Once he has himself covered, he reaches for the edge of my underwear and drags it down my legs. For half a second, I can’t believe we are really going to do this. For the other half of a second, I’m vibrating with the need to please him. Still glancing over my shoulder, I watch him stroke himself once, twice, before guiding me back over his lap.

“Like this?” Wonder fills my whisper.

“Keeping up the Santa fantasy.”

“You said not to mention him,” I remind him.

“That I did. But I want you on my lap as you were, begging me to bring out the naughty in you.” His voice drops. “Hands on my knees, honey.”

I do as he directs, and he lifts me by my hips. He positions himself at my entrance, pausing me in place. “Ready to be a bad girl, Holliday?”

I don’t answer before he tugs me downward, allowing my body to draw him in. My nails dig into his kneecaps as my legs spread as wide as they can over his lap. Thank goodness for the heels I’m wearing to stabilize my feet. He drags me down until he’s filled me to the hilt.

Sweet peppermint. He holds still, giving my body time to adjust to him.

“Holliday,” he murmurs behind me, his voice strained. “I fantasized how it would be with you, but I never . . . not like this . . . it won’t be enough.”

I don’t have time to ask what he means before he’s lifting and lowering me, making me ride him like a wild steed. I bounce, and I bump, and I groan as he taps a place inside me that hasn’t been tapped in so long.

“Honey,” he whispers, picking up the pace as he tugs me down over him and surges up into me. “Touch yourself.”

“Oh, God,” I purr, sliding my hand between my legs and working my clit as he pistons me over him.

“You’re so close,” he groans, already reading my body. His encouragement spurs me on.

We might only ever be this one night, but this is what I wanted.

He is my Christmas wish.