She shakes her head. “Not even once.”
“I don't understand how any man could keep their hands off of you,” I say running my own hands down her back, desperate to see her in nothing but a pair of panties and later, not even those.
“I’ve always been a little shy, I guess.”
“You seem like you can hold your own though,” I pushed back, remembering her at the poker game.
“Fair enough,” she says. “But confidence with words and confidence with my body are two different things.”
“You're not confident with your body? I ask. “God, how's that possible?” I ask with a chuckle. “You're fucking…” I shake my head. There are no words to describe how hot she is. Sitting here in those tight little leggings, this snug sweater. Damn. She looks smoking.
“Well, I could say the same about you, Smith,” she says, her hands running over my chest as she begins to unbutton my flannel shirt one button at a time. Her nails are red and green, and they catch my eye.
“You like Christmas, huh?”
She nods. “I’ve always loved the idea of it. I can't say I've had very many memorable ones, but the idea of stockings hung on a mantel, a Christmas tree in the corner, hot cocoa.” She laughs. “I mean, I gotta be honest with you, you’re kind of nailing it.”
“Good. I like the thought of nailing things tonight.” We both laugh, and her hands run over my bare chest. “I’ve always had a sweet spot for this holiday. When my mom and dad were alive, they always made it the best day of the year.”
“They're gone now?” she asks softly.
“Yeah. Passed away five years ago. “
“I’m sorry,” she says her voice soft and shaky. I know she means it. Her words practically crack.
“I’m guessing you've had your fair share of loss too, haven't you, Sugarplum?” I ask her.
The wounded look in her eyes is back, and I’d do anything to take her pain away tonight. Maybe I can make her forget all those years when she felt alone. When she felt like no one was looking out for her. I'll show her that I can be her North star, the man she can count on.
“I’m having a hard time sitting here and not devouring you,” I admit to her, my cock aching in my jeans. She pushes off my flannel, my chest bared to her and God, I want her shirt off too.
“Do what you like to me,” she says. “Because I want all of you, Smith. I like the idea of a man like you touching me, making me feel alive and beautiful. As if I'm yours, even if for just one night.”
“You know I want more than one night,” I tell her, and she closes her eyes, shaking her head, unable to believe words like that, and I know it's because she has no reason to trust a man. To trust me. But what she's going to learn here real damn quick, is that I don't mess around.
I say what I mean, and I do what I want and God, I want to do her now. “I’m going to need you in my bed, Sugarplum,” I tell her. “I don't want my Christmas present from under the Christmas tree. I want it on my mattress. I want to unwrap you piece by piece until you're naked in my arms. I want to kiss every inch of your skin until you're begging for more.”
“For a man who's never been laid, you sure have a way with words,” she teases as I take her hand and lead her to my bedroom.
“Baby, I've been practicing for this moment for twenty-seven years.”
She turns around, giving me a smile. “You're crazy, Smith.”
“Sounds about right, because your body is driving me fucking insane right now.”
She looks over her shoulder, a few steps ahead of me. “Yeah?”
My eyes are on her ass when she walks in front of me, my hands ready to squeeze those cheeks together, to run my mouth up and down her ass, up her back, to her neck, and finally, her lips. “I need to make you mine.”
“Prove it,” she whispers and so I do. I drop to my goddamn knees and spin that girl around, teasing down her leggings past her hips and her creamy thighs. They’re so sweet and I run my hands over them. My mouth kisses her belly. I kiss her pussy and she runs her hands through my hair. I can smell her sweet pussy scent and it’s like a siren call, calling for me. She's wet, so damn wet for me, and I groan in need.
“I need to taste you, girl,” I tell her. She whimpers above me.
“Then taste me,” she says. “Taste all of me.”
I ease her back on my bed and kneel on the floor before her. I pull down her panties and spread her knees. Her scent my goddamn downfall. I press my mouth to the place it belongs, to her pink pussy, her virgin hole ? the one that she's offered me. She tastes like honey. Like the color of her hair. I run my fingers over her pretty little cunt, needing her to open up so I can taste all of her.