Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 44479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
I pull back just enough to look into her eyes, my hand still cradling her face. “Then we deal with it,” I say firmly, leaning in to kiss her neck, trailing my lips down the soft skin there, feeling the way her body responds to every touch. “But right now… I just want you.”
Her breath hitches as I kiss her again, deeper this time, more urgent. Her body presses against mine, and I can feel the rapid beat of her heart matching my own. My hands explore her waist, her back, pulling her closer as the tension between us builds.
This is more than just a secret now. It’s something I don’t want to let go of, no matter what happens next.
I keep kissing along her skin, letting her soft moans urge me on. It’s electric between us, and even though we just had sex a few hours ago, I already want her again. I slip my hand into the waistband of her pajama pants. “Tell me you want me as much as I want you,” I say, my lips hovering over her skin.
“I want you, York, more than you want me.”
I glance up, looking into her eyes. “Liar. That’s not possible.” I grab her hand, sliding it between our bodies and pressing it against my dick. “Feel what you do to me.”
She runs her hand along my hardness, and then with her other hand she grabs my free hand. “Look what you do to me.” She guides my hand down her pants, past the barrier of her panties, and through her wetness. “See how wet you make me, York. I want you more.”
I shake my head. “It’s not physically possible.” I slide her pajamas and panties down her long legs. “I need inside you, Noelle.” Fuck, I need her so damn much.
She holds onto me, taking two steps back to rest her ass on a shelf. “Fuck me, York.”
I hiss. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
“Show me,” she whispers before kissing me.
For the next few seconds we’re nothing but a mess of tangled limbs and tongues trying desperately to get as close to each other as possible. I slam my cock inside her, stilling the moment I’m all the way in. “Fuck, this is what you do to me,” I tell her.
She grips me tighter. “York, I need to come,” she whines.
“Allow me,” I say, moving my hand between our bodies so I can toy with her clit. I’m so turned on, but I know I need to get her off a few times tonight. “And tomorrow, when we sneak away for some alone time I will finally put my lips where my cock is.”
“I’ve never had that done before,” she whispers against my mouth.
“Really? Well, I can’t wait to be your first.” And my chest swells with pride at knowing I’ll be the first man to put my lips down there.
I squeeze the flesh of her ass as I continue to pump my cock inside her. I keep rocking, making sure to keep the sound of our sex quiet. I’d hate to be caught by her father for the second time today.
My balls tighten as I keep pushing my dick deeper and deeper inside her. She’s biting down onto my shoulder to keep from crying out, and the thought of her wanting to be loud only spurs me on.
“I love the way you take my hard cock. It’s like you were made for this dick.” I keep fucking, slamming my shaft into her.
“York,” she begs. “Please don’t stop.”
I shake my head. “Not when it’s this fucking good, babe.”
Before I even know it, Noelle is biting down on my shoulder so hard that it nearly has my knees buckling. Her pussy grips me tighter too, and I know she’s getting off.
I slam into her a few more times before I’m spilling into her, letting my cock pulse and throb deep inside her.
Fuck.
I’m never letting this woman go.
The festival is in full swing, Christmas magic hanging in the air. It’s the kind of scene you only see in movies—colorful lights strung between trees, wreaths on every lamppost, and a layer of fresh snow blanketing the ground. Everywhere I look, there are Christmas-themed activities: kids making ornaments, families sipping hot cocoa, and couples skating hand-in-hand at the outdoor rink. The festive hum of carolers drifts through the air, blending with the sound of laughter and sleigh bells.
Noelle and I walk side by side, our hands joined together, the silent tension of keeping our secret still hanging between us. The paparazzi are scattered around the festival, their cameras flashing every so often as they snap shots of us. I can feel their lenses on us, capturing every smile, every glance—just waiting for something they can sell.
Noelle looks incredible, her cheeks pink from the cold, wrapped up in a red coat with a knitted blue scarf that matches her eyes perfectly. I can’t help but smile when I catch her glancing at me, her lips curling up as if she’s in on some private joke we both share. The snowflakes caught in her hair, the way she’s always moving, always full of life—it makes it harder to act like this is just pretend.