Page 59 of An Innocent Christmas

Another gasp, but this time he swallows it, his tongue dancing with mine.

I moan again, my hips jerking?—

“Oh!” I cry, the pleasure burning through me.

That’s—the hard jut of his erection, his big body over mine…

It’sgood.

It’s great, far better than my vibrator, and when his hips start moving against mine, slow and steady and inexorable, I feel it.

Pleasure coiling.

Need sharping to an arrow’s point.

My head drops back, breaking the kiss, my breaths coming in rapid gusts. He doesn’t stop, just murmurs softly in French and my pleasure-muddled mind is slow to translate the words.

“That’s it, beautiful. Ride me. Ride me until you come apart in my arms.”

There are other words too, ones I can’t process.

Because I’m flying up the edge, readying to leap, to plunge, to?—

“Oh!”

I grind up against him, my legs tightening around his waist, my gaze locking onto his, getting lost into the molten blue of his eyes.

And then it’s on me,overme, taking me under.

I don’t see his eyes any longer, nor the satisfied smirk on his mouth.

It’s just…pleasure.

My orgasm ripples through me, exploding out from my middle, snaking through my limbs, which go lax, fall against the mattress.

I’m not aware of anything for long minutes.

Eventually, though, I become conscious again of him on top of me, his hand stroking lightly up and down my side, and manage to peel open my eyelids.

His smile is cocky.

“You—” I break off, my cheeks feeling hot.

Now the curve of his mouth goes soft, his hand on my side stilling. “Me what?”

“You didn’t…” I whisper. “You know…”

He bends down, lips nuzzling along the underside of my jaw. “That wasn’t about me, buttercup.”

Then he rolls off me, grabbing my wrist and hauling me to my feet.

“Nowit’s time for lunch.”

Eighteen

Jean-Michel

“I’m sorry about this, buttercup,”I murmur as I usher her into my office.