Read Hot for the Holidays Online
Authors: Lora Leigh
Hot for the Holidays (11 page)
Sliding his hand along her side, he reached the ripe curve of her breast. He cupped the mound in his palm and lifted it, rolled his thumb over the distended peak of her nipple before lowering his head to taste it.
Drawing the tight little nub into his mouth, he suckled at her as though he was dying for the taste of her. Actually, he had been dying before he tasted her. Frozen on the inside, locked in a loneliness he couldn’t bear. For a year he had fought to prove her innocence, fought for her release. And now she was here, in his arms, touching him, arching to him as he touched her.
He moved down her body and relished each broken cry of pleasure as he fought the heated, slick folds of her pussy. Starving for the taste of her, for the heat of her, he licked through the narrow cleft, moaned at the slick essence of her and devoured her. With lips, tongue and sucking little kisses, he teased and tormented her silken flesh. Tasted her until there was no doubt in his mind that he could ever live without her, then drew in the tight little knot of her clit and sucked it, flicking his tongue over it until she erupted in pleasure.
And it wasn’t enough. He could never get enough of her.
He pressed her thighs farther apart, lifted her knees and opened her farther to his gaze.
Soft pink flesh parted, revealing the snug little entrance he sought. Tucking the head of his cock against the fluttering, clenching entrance to her snug pussy, he shifted his hips, moved, penetrated until the crest was pressed firmly inside her.
Tiny eruptions of the pre-seminal fluid jetted from the tip of his cock, filling her, easing the tender, delicate muscles, allowing her to take him without pain, without distress. It increased her pleasure while adding to her natural lubrication and allowing the wide width of his shaft to sink inside her.
Hawke watched as he took her, listened to her excited little cries and knew he wasn’t going to last long. His balls had drawn up tight to the base of his cock, a sure indication that his release was only a few strokes away.
Tunneling inside her slowly, working his way in by small degrees, he grimaced at the building rapture surging through his body.
Sweet and so hot. Her pussy wrapped around his cock like the tightest, most silken glove. Each stroke of her intimate flesh against the crest and shaft of his erection was torturous ecstasy. Sizzling fingers of electric current wrapped around his balls, stroked along his cock and had him gritting his teeth to hold back until he was firmly seated inside her.
Lifting his head, Hawke stared into her lovely face. She was flushed, perspiration standing out on her forehead as the tracks of her tears dampened her cheeks.
“My precious Jess,” he whispered, leaning closer, pressing himself deeper inside her and moved to steal a kiss. “My beloved Jess.”
“My heart.” She sobbed against his lip, and he lost it.
The hitched, breathless quality of her voice tore through him. The devotion, the love in her soft whisper, destroyed him.
Groaning her name, he began to thrust inside her. Heavy, probing thrusts that worked inside her, stroking him past pleasure, past ecstasy. He was surging through sensations that he didn’t have time to make sense of, sensations he had never known before.
His mate. His woman.
She cried out his name and his thrusts increased and he shafted inside her as he held her hip with one hand and braced himself above her on an elbow. His lips moved over her jaw, her neck.
He could feel the intensity rising inside her as well. Her orgasm was coming closer, the sweet scent of it was wrapping around him, urging him to take her fast, to fuck inside her harder. Nothing mattered but taking her, marking her, blending their scents until they were one, until they were bound so irrevocably that they could never be parted.
Gasping moans fell from her lips as his kiss moved to her neck, her shoulder. So close. She was tightening around him. Her legs lifted, wrapped around his hips, her pussy tightened, the muscles convulsing around his thrusting cock.
One thrust. Two. And she exploded. He felt it. Like an eruption of fire clenching around his dick she clamped on him as she cried out his name.
Hawke felt his own release follow hers. His teeth locked in her shoulder, the mark of their mating, as he thrust inside her again and let sensation tear through him.
A growl tore from his throat as he felt his semen jetting from him, filling her. The fierce swelling in the center of his cock locked him inside her, creating another pleasure, another violent edge of sensation that rocked them both.
Hawke fought to hold on to just enough of his senses to relish this, to memorize it, to know every emotion, every sensation that erupted around him. His and hers. Her pleasure, rising so hard and swift she lost her own senses. Her screams of ecstasy, his growls. The lick of fire across his flesh, the feel of her teeth in his shoulder.
Shock almost tore away that last edge of control. She was biting him as he bit her. Two little canines pierced his flesh and she held on for dear life, just as he held on to her.
Held on until the last pulses of pure rapture tore through their bodies then left them to float back to Earth on a peaceful, comforting cloud.
They were fighting for breath. Holding on to each other like the survivors of a storm. Sweat damped their bodies, their hearts raced and Hawke could feel her, heart and soul, wrapping around him.
Lifting his head from her shoulder, he opened his eyes and stared down at her. She was lax beneath him, her breasts rising and falling with hard breaths as her lashes fluttered open.
“You’re my soul, Jess,” he stated simply. He knew no other way to say it. “I lose you, I lose all that I am.”
Her hand lifted, touched his cheek, before her finger fluttered over his lips.
“You’re every breath I take, Hawke,” she said, her voice drowsy but echoing with such love that he felt humbled. “Every breath I take, you’re a part of it.”
They were a part of each other.
Moving to her side, he dragged her coat over them for warmth, pulled her against his chest and let himself believe.
It was Christmas morning, and he held his gift in his arms.
Looking at the angel with the broken wing, he knew that next year there would be another. A perfect one to represent her perfect love. But this one was even more precious for the wing that had been shattered. This one had survived. Just as his own angel had. Survived and still retained its beauty and the essence of what it was meant to be. A reflection of love. Not always perfect, not without trials. But always there, surviving and enduring.
Just as his Jess had survived, endured and loved.
His own Christmas Angel, and he held her in his arms, knew her taste, the feel of her heartbeat, the touch of her body against his.
A true gift from the heavens. His Jess.
His mate.
Always.
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