A Festive Feud: A Holiday Romantic Comedy(24)

This would be the time to stop. To sit up, get my thoughts straight, and tell him that we’re done… doing whatever it is we’re doing.

Except when his hand slides underneath the fabric of my shirt and his fingers ghost along the hem of my panties, I know that there is no way that is happening.

There’s not a chance in Santa’s freakin’ winter wonderland that I am telling this man no. Not when he lights me on fire like this.

This… pull between us is just too strong. I’ve never wanted anything in my life as badly as I want Jackson Pearce.

Not the man I knew as my nemesis.

But the man I’m beginning to realize has more to him than I ever imagined.

As if reading my mind, he rasps, “Let’s worry about the rest later. Right now, all I want to do is taste you, Emma.” Lifting my shirt, he holds my eyes intently. “I want to feel you come on my cock again. I want to spend the rest of the night forgetting the world until it’s just you and I.”

I nod, helping him pull the baggy T-shirt over my head and discard it, leaving me in nothing but lace.

“You and these fucking panties. Pink and frilly, just like you.” His words are a grunt as he tears them from my body with a swift pull, much like the last time.

I’m beginning to think this man has a fetish for ripping my panties.

He licks his lips, then bites down on his bottom lip as his eyes roam my body, sending a bolt of arousal through me. Why is that so hot?

The man is looking at me like I’m his next meal.

“I’m committing this to memory, Snowflake. Every single inch of you.” His slow perusal stops in between my thighs, and his hands slide up, parting them so he gets a full view of my pussy.

I already know I’m wet and throbbing just by the way his gaze makes me ache.

Reaching behind his neck, he quickly pulls his shirt off and throws it to the side.

My mouth waters at the sight of his broad chest, chiseled abs, the delicious dips of his Adonis belt. The man looks like he stepped right out of a magazine, not from a construction site.

I drag my eyes down every sharp line of his muscles, stopping at the trail of hair leading below his waistband.

“Now, who’s looking at who?” He grins, unbuckling his belt and flicking his jeans open with one hand. He pulls the belt free with one powerful tug.

Dear God.

“I wonder what you’d look like with my belt around your wrists? On your knees like the good girl you are, taking my cock. Mmm.” His eyes search around the room, and his brow arches when it lands on the small Christmas tree in the corner.

Standing from the bed, he walks to the tree, plucks a thick red satin ribbon from the branches, and turns to me. “How about we play with this instead, Snowflake?”

My heart races when I imagine him… tying me up with that, and my entire pussy throbs in response to the mental picture. A visceral reaction that I couldn’t control even if I wanted to.

God, I am such a slut for this man.

He could play with me however he wanted, and I’d probably agree.

When I nod, he walks back to the bed with the ribbon fisted in his hands, his pants hanging open, the bulge of his cock tenting beneath his briefs.

“On your knees,” he commands, low and rough.

I roll onto my stomach without hesitation and lift up on my hands and knees, hiking my ass high in the air. I can feel his eyes on my ass, on the pulsing spot between my legs, as he comes to a halt behind me. The heat of his body makes me squirm in anticipation of what’s to come.

His hand meets the curve of my hip, sliding to the front of my stomach and up to my breasts, where he pinches my sensitive nipple between his fingers. Taking his time, he rolls the peak between his fingers roughly, then slides his hand higher to my throat, where he grasps lightly, lifting me off my hands till I’m sitting up on my knees.

“Wrists, Snowflake.”

Three syllables is all it takes for wetness to coat my thighs.

Obediently, I put my wrists behind my back, and I feel his fingers brush along the skin inside. He leans forward, gently pressing his fingers to my throat as his lips ghost against the shell of my ear. “If at any time you want me to take the ribbon off, say stop and I’ll remove it. Okay?”

I nod.

“I need to hear you say it, Emma. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I breathe. “I understand.”

Gathering my wrists in his hands, I feel the soft satin of the ribbon brush against my skin as he fastens it on my wrists, binding them together.

“Good girl. This is for your pleasure,” he murmurs as he lowers me to the bed with my cheek pressed into the mattress. “Feel okay?”

“Yes. Feels perfect.”

He gently spreads my legs apart, and then I feel the hot wash of his breath against my core. I’m so turned on, so needy, so desperate for his touch that I’m not above begging.

Palming my ass, he spreads me open. “Tell me what you need.”

“Your… Your mouth. Please.”

His chuckle vibrates against my skin, and I whimper at the sensation.

“Only because you asked so nicely.”

His tongue drags through my wetness from my clit to my ass, lapping at me over and over until I’m writhing, my nails cutting into my palms as I push back against his mouth.

It’s obscene and dirty, the way he’s eating me from behind, my face pressed into the mattress and my hands bound.