A Festive Feud: A Holiday Romantic Comedy(13)

There are only a few things in life that I believe would truly bring me to my knees, and I know without a doubt that this is one of them.

Emma Worthington is one of them.

Her hands reach for me, hurrying me along, and I shake my head. “If I’ve only got one night with you, Emma, I’m taking every fucking second of it,” I say, tracing my tongue along her nipple. “Don’t rush me. Let me look at you.” My voice is hoarse with need, and I don’t miss the way she squirms beneath me when I speak.

My tongue dips to the hollow of her chest between her tits, trailing lower and lower in a path to her navel, where I dip it inside before tracing the skin above her waistband.

I quickly pop the button of her pants free, and when she shimmies them down her hips, I toss them to the side, leaving her in nothing but pale pink lace with a damp spot on the front.

Fuck, I want to taste her. I want her to soak my face until I’m drenched in her.

My tongue sweeps across the lace, and she gasps as I tear it from her body in a single rough pull.

“Jackson!” she mumbles in a breathless protest. “Those were expensive.”

“Don’t care. Take my card and buy a thousand fucking pairs,” I grunt in response, my eyes flicking to her bare pussy just inches from my face. She’s soaked, and I can fucking smell her arousal.

In the dim light of the fire, she’s glistening as I use my fingers to spread her open wide, my eyes raking over her perfect pussy.

“Goddamn,” I mutter, unable to stop myself from flattening my tongue and dragging it through her wetness. I reach down, palming my cock, which is now impossibly fucking hard and seeping just from the taste of her.

Her hands fly to my hair, tugging at the strands as a soft cry tumbles from her lips.

She tastes so sweet I want to stay here for the rest of the night, licking her clit, fucking her with my tongue until she’s sated and exhausted from all of the times she comes. But with only one night, I have to use my time wisely.

I flick her clit, swirling my tongue around the bud once, and then again before sucking it into my mouth. Hard.

Her back bows from the rug, her hips bucking against my mouth as I slide a finger inside of her, hooking it up to hit the spot that has her writhing. She’s tight and warm, clenching around my fingers as I fuck her.

The sound of me eating her pussy like a starved man, combined with the sloppy sounds of her pussy taking my fingers, fills the room. It’s dirty and unhinged, but fuck, that’s exactly how I feel about her right now.

That’s exactly what this is.

“Oh God, Jackson…” she pants, and my cock pulses at how fucking good it sounds to hear my name on her lips. For her to say my name in pleasure instead of with animosity.

I want to hear it over and fucking over again, echoing on the walls of my house as I sink my cock into her and fuck the shit out of her.

I’ve barely started, and she’s already close, her walls tightening around my fingers.

“Come, Emma. On my tongue,” I command, loving the way she tugs harder on my hair when I suck her clit into my mouth, then add another finger inside of her, stroking her G-spot. “Soak my face, Snowflake.”

The nickname that she hates so much is what finally sends her over the edge, that and the bite to her thigh that has her legs snapping closed around my head. Her back arches, a flood of wetness coating my tongue.

I lap at her pussy as she writhes, the orgasm rocking through her, making her entire body tense until she’s sensitive and pushing me away.

With one last gentle press of my lips to her clit, I climb up her body, caging her in with a smug grin on my lips. I bring my fingers to my mouth, holding her gaze as I suck them clean, savoring the taste of her. “Your pussy sure doesn’t hate me, Emmie, because you just came all over my face.”

“Don’t say another word,” she says, leveling her gaze on me. “Not a single word, Pearce.”

My brow arches. “Back to last names, are we?”

Even in the dim light of the fire, I can see her cheeks are flushed, and her lips are swollen from my kisses. The sight of her freshly orgasmed is almost as sexy as the creamy skin of her inner thighs, which are now scratched and red from my beard brushing against them as I ate her pussy. As she practically rode my face.

It causes something primal to stir inside of me, an unfamiliar feeling of possessiveness rising to the surface. I want to mark her everywhere. Not just her thighs.

Her ass, her pussy. I want to paint her with my cum.

I feel her hand brush along my jean-clad cock, and I hiss in response, my gaze lingering on hers.

“One night,” she repeats our words from earlier, squeezing my length through the thick fabric. She toys with the button, popping it free, then lowering my zipper slowly.

Leaning forward, I capture her lips, swallowing her whimper as we work together to unbutton my shirt. When it takes longer than anticipated, she lets out a frustrated huff against my mouth.

I chuckle, then reach behind me and pull it off at the neck. Before I can even toss it to the side, her hands are on me, roaming over the expanse of my chest, to my abs, and lower to where my pants hang open.

“God, of course you’d be built like some… Greek god.” It sounds like a compliment, but I’m pretty sure she means it as an insult.

“What were you expecting, Snowflake?” I murmur, pushing the jeans down my hips until they’re off and out of the way.