Heating Up the Holidays 3-Story Bundle (Play with Me, Snowfall, and After Midnight) by Lisa Renée Jones Read Free Book Online Page B

or I’ll stop.”
    “You are so unfair.” My lashes flutter, a dull throb deep in my sex expanding, tightening. “I don’t think I can.”
    “You can.”
    I am suddenly exposed, vulnerable in some unknown way I don’t want to be, and I blurt out, “We can’t do this.”
    “We’re already doing it.” He licks my clit.
    “Oh … I … oh.”
    “Have you forgiven me yet?” His fingers stroke inside me, and the words echo over my sensitive flesh where I want his mouth again.
    “No,” I gasp, and reflexively I squeeze his shoulders with my thighs and fight the urge to shove his head back down.
    “I’ll keep trying, then.” And, thankfully, his mouth closes over my clit again, suckling deeply. My hips lift with the empty ache inside me that his fingers cannot satisfy. I ignore his command to stay upright, falling back on my hands. He tugs me closer, and somehow I’m lying on the hard surface of the table, my legs around his shoulders.
    My hands go over my face, my breasts thrust in the air. He laps at me, licking and teasing, his fingers stroking, pumping, and sensations ripple through my body. I am close, so close to release, but every time I am on the edge, he seems to know, licking to the left or right. My nipples are tight balls of pain, and I reach up and caress them, doing what I have never dared with another man, stroking away the pain he will not. And still it is not enough.
    “Please,” I beg. “I need … I need …”
    He suckles deeply and pumps his fingers faster, harder, and I am there … I … am … there. My body tenses and buckles with a tight piercing sensation, a moment before a wave of absolute pleasure overwhelms me, stealing my breath. I lose time and my surroundings, gasping back to reality to realize my fingers are twined tightly in his hair, and I’m pretty sure I haven’t been gentle.
    I yank my hand back and look to my left, trying to hide my face, trying to process what has just happened. He maneuvers my legs to the side and then his hand slides under me, lifting me, pulling me to a sitting position, where I can’t hide from the depth of his intense stare, which is so much more. It is as if he sees all my broken pieces I wanted to believe no longer exist. It is a daunting thought, and embarrassment swims like shards of glass inside me, pricking already raw places. I have become his conquest, of which I am certain he has many.
    I turn my face to the left again, but he cups my cheeks, forcing my gaze to his. “What’s wrong?”
    “You’re my boss. Or ex-boss. That’s what’s wrong.”
    “Right now I’m Damion. Just a man. A man who wants to be inside you more than he wants to breathe.” His fingers trail down my shoulder, teasing my skin, lower, until he’s teasing my nipple, touching me freely.
    Damion
, I whisper in my mind, shivering with the sensual way he is touching me. But I am back inside my own head, too aware of how nearly naked I am in every sense of the word, too aware to not see that he is not. And for a moment I want to run. I want to get away and hide, and this makes me furious with myself. No more running. No more hiding. I shove aside weakness and force myself to think clearly, to claim what I want.
    My hand goes to his hip, my courage growing. This is a hotel fling and he wants to fuck me. I want to fuck him, too. I am not holding back. I am not going to romanticize what isn’t romantic. I’m going to enjoy this and then go back to my real life, which does not include this place or this man. I find his zipper, and my fingers trace the hard ridge of his erection.
    He groans and I am empowered, hungry for him, urgent to feel his need match mine. To know he burns to be inside me the way I burn to have him there. My eyes lift to his, and I let him see what I feel. I let him see the lust and demand. And it’s like he snaps. Or we snap. Like my action has opened a door and suddenly we are set free.
    His mouth comes down on mine, and he tastes