Abby's Christmas Spirit (6 page)

For a second Darius didn’t react, couldn’t react, the desire so hot and so fast that couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. Then he buried his hands in her hair, so aroused that he had to have her, here, now, in the kitchen against the aging Formica countertop. “My absolute pleasure,” he murmured before he kissed her.

She tasted the way he knew she would—sweet and complex, like berries drizzled in honey, the wine mingling with her own taste. It was the same, yet better than he could have imagined. It was the dream, but it was real. They pressed their bodies together tightly, the wine bottle hard between them, her leg snaking out to move seductively over his. Their tongues slid across each other, his hands in that thick, lustrous hair. She was small, delicate, her face tilted up towards him, passion bringing a pink blush to her cheeks.

He bit her bottom lip, a quick nip, just to feel that plumpness between his teeth. She let out a soft moan, her hips starting to move, rhythmically tapping her sex against his. Wanting to feel, to sample, all of her, he buried his mouth in her neck, slipping his tongue along her soft, pale skin. When he reached her ear, he dipped inside.

Abby sucked in her breath hard. The wine bottle slipped out of her hands and crashed on the hard tile of the kitchen floor. He pulled back and stared down at the mess. There was red wine splashed up both their legs and splattered across their midsections. Glass was scattered around, while the liquid rolled across the tiles through it.

“Shit, sorry.” She started to bend over.

Darius didn’t give a damn about the wine or the mess. But he didn’t want her in the glass. So he picked her up by her waist and carried her away from the drop zone. “Don’t worry about it.” If anything, the fact that she had let her fingers go slack when his tongue plunged into her turned him on even more.

Feeling reckless, driven, he lifted her up onto the counter.

Her mouth formed an “O” as he sat her down, her hair falling in her eyes. Darius tugged the bottom of her sweater down, exposing her black bra. The stark contrast of the dark color against her fair skin had him leaning forward to trace the edge where the two met with his tongue. He wasn’t sure which was silkier—the fabric or her skin.

He went back and forth, back and forth, until her fingers knotted in his head and she whispered, “Please.”

Knowing what she wanted, he dropped his mouth lower until he closed over her nipple, soaking the satin of her bra. He would have preferred lace, would have enjoyed the peek-a-boo effect it provided, where he could see the raspberry ripeness of her taut nipple, but this worked. It was a tease for both of them, the barrier between his suck and her skin. He tormented her and himself for several painstaking minutes, until her legs moved restlessly on either side of his waist and she whimpered. Only then did he finally peel back her bra and cover her warm tight bud with his wet mouth.

She groaned. He resisted the urge to do the same. Instead, he immediately pulled back and went to the other breast. He gave it the same treatment and he paused to savor the way she looked, her full creamy breasts spilling out of the top of her bra, her skin dewy from arousal, her eyes dark with desire. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders onto her bare chest, her hands gripping the edge of the counter. Darius thought she looked stunning, sensual, naughty, with her chest bared and her bottom half so neatly covered in tights and the feminine skirt. Her sweater was tucked into the skirt, and there was a sash that finished off her waistband. Something was sticking out of the sash.

With a grin, Darius realized it wasn’t what he would expect from the average woman. It was a piece of greenery. Like something plucked out of the yard. But it was so Abby, and he loved that about her. “What is that?” he asked her. “And why is it in your skirt?”

“Huh?” She glanced down. “Oh, that’s mistletoe. I was… never mind.”

He couldn’t quite believe his luck. “You were hoping to coax a kiss out of me?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“I’m happy to oblige.” Darius gave her a wicked grin. “A kiss goes under the mistletoe, you know.” With that, he flipped up her skirt and went under.

Abby gave out a startled, “Oh!” when Darius’s mouth made contact with her right smack between her thighs. She hadn’t been ready for that. Granted, she was wearing thick winter tights, but that wasn’t enough of a shield between her and the delightful sensation of his hot breath blasting her clit as he nibbled at her.

This was an interesting turn of events and she should really be questioning how wise it was to be barreling towards the point of no return with Darius Damiano. But no matter what her head told her, her body and her heart weren’t about to listen. This had been fated to happen since the first time she’d dreamed about it. Or more accurately, from the minute Darius had set foot in this house a decade ago.

It probably hadn’t hurt that she had found the erstwhile mistletoe by the fireplace and had used it in her spell casting. It was historically a symbol of fertility and sexuality and Abby was well aware that using it in a love spell gave it even more power.

She had asked the universe to bring love and passion to her, and bam, just like that, she was being offered part two of her request. So she was just going to let her head loll back and enjoy this very pleasant granting of her spell.

Darius ran his thumbs across her inner thigh as he ate at her. It was creating a desperate need to feel his tongue on her directly and she wiggled around on the counter, making little sounds of both encouragement and frustration. Surely he wasn’t going to take all day the way he had with her nipples. She had been on the point of begging when he had finally yanked down her bra. She couldn’t wait that long now.

Lifting her backside up, she tried to get her fingers up under her skirt so she could pull her tights down.

It had the misfortune of causing Darius to remove his mouth from her altogether. “Easy now,” he murmured into her thigh, nuzzling her with his nose.

“Help me with these,” she said, giving it another go. This time she only succeeded in toppling to the right before she caught herself and regained her balance.

Darius only seemed interested in burying his nose in her crotch and driving her mad with want.

Or so she thought.

So fast she barely had time to blink, he tore down her tights with a firm grip on each side. Her thong went with it. So suddenly cool air hit her hot core, already damp from his attentions. He stared at her sex so intently, studying her, that Abby swallowed hard, her eyes drifted closed as she felt the moisture increase.

“You’re wet for me.”

It wasn’t a question, with good reason. She was so swollen and aching, her slick lubrication trailed down her thigh, as if to urge him to do something about it. “Yes,” she told him, her voice sounding rough and foreign to her.

His tongue lapped that sticky errant liquid, starting at the bottom of the trail and heading north until he met the place of origin, her sopping slit.

“Darius,” she breathed, grabbing his head again for control, a sharp jolt of pleasure shooting through her.

It had been so long since a man had been between her thighs that she had almost forgotten how sharp, how intense it was. How each lap of a skilled tongue was like an electric jolt. She marveled that it could be so different from a man’s finger, so different again from her own finger. But nothing compared to this and she spread her legs further, wanting him to consume her.

His hands firmly gripped her thigh and raised it so her calf draped over his shoulder. He did the same to her other leg, hooking her panties and tights behind his head, until she was splayed out for him, her back resting on a kitchen cabinet. It felt too time consuming to stop and take the shoes and tights off, and he seemed to agree. He was back at her with a barely a pause, dipping his tongue inside her in a way that had her squirming. The way he neglected her clit so intentionally, and mimicked his cock plunging into her, was sweet, delicious torture.

Grabbing for something, anything to hold onto, she found a cabinet knob and held on for dear life as saliva pooled in her mouth and her eyes squeezed shut. She bit her lip, but she couldn’t hold back the soft moans that burst through at regular intervals. It was better than it was in her dreams. As exciting and satisfying as that had been nothing could compare to this, the long, slow slide of his tongue in and out of her. When she thought she was going to come from that alone, her inner muscles starting to tense, he pulled back.

“Oh my God, don’t stop!” Feeling like she might actually die from denial, she tried to raise her bottom to encourage him but she couldn’t maneuver right.

“Shh. I’m not stopping.” He changed tactics, nibbling at the soft fold on each side of her damp opening, further frustrating in a delicious exotic tease.

It wasn’t enough. She wanted everything. She wanted his tongue, his fingers, his cock, one right after the other, and she wanted it now. She would beg if she had to. “Darius, please.”

“Please, what? What’s wrong, baby?”

“I… you…” She forgot what she’d been planning to say when he finally, for the first time, flicked his tongue over her clitoris.

He stopped. “What?”

“Don’t stop.” She pushed his head back down.

Then jumped when he bit her inner thigh. “Then quit interrupting me.”

He had a point. She was going to shut up. Let him work.

Which he did. He licked. He sucked. He showed an amazing understanding of her most intimate body part, as if he’d done this many times before. Which he had, in their mutual dreams. Every time she inched towards the edge, in danger of having an orgasm, he changed positions, stroke, rhythm, denying her and starting all over again. He was driving her beyond insane. She was incoherent, incapable of any rational thought, willing to say anything, do anything if he would only let her finish what he had started.

“Let me come,” she begged, when he pulled away yet again to blow on her sensitive swollen button.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

Hello. “Yes,” she practically screamed.

Darius slid two fingers inside her and stroked his tongue across her clit with enough skill to earn him a spot on a talent show. It was all she needed to finally free fall into a violently intense orgasm. She held the cabinet now with one hand, his hair with the other, and hung on for dear life as her back arched and her body trembled in ecstasy. Abby had never had an orgasm like that, one that swept over her like a gale force wind, wrapped her in its swirling madness, and wouldn’t let her go.

Maybe it was the length of time since she’d been with a man. Maybe it was because before her self-imposed celibacy she’d been young and the two guys she’d been with nothing more than boys really. Or maybe it was that this was Darius.

Her body had been waiting for his touch.

When the waves of pleasure slowed, then subsided, Abby shook her head a little, gasping for air, her mouth breaking into a smile. What the hell. That had been something she had not been totally prepared for. “Wow,” she told him.

“I’ll take that as a good sign.” Darius lifted her legs back down and stood up, wiping his lips.

“A very good sign.” Abby slipped down off the counter, her ass numb, and her arms stiff from her tense position and death grip on the cabinetry. “Do you have a condom?”

“Unfortunately, no. But that’s probably a good thing. Trent is going to be here soon and I don’t want him seeing you with your skirt up to your tits.” He leaned in and gave her a slow, sensuous kiss.

She could taste herself on him and it caused her body to stir again. “Oh, is that how it would be?” she asked, making a half-hearted attempt to pull up her panties and tights. They were in approximately the right place, but there was some serious bunching. She didn’t care.

“Of course. Maybe we can make plans to do just that tomorrow.”

“Sure.” But Abby was more concerned about now then tomorrow. Pulling him forward by his shirt, she told him, “It’s your turn on the counter.”

His eyes widened. “You want me to sit on the counter? Why?”

“How else am I going to suck your cock?” Without hesitation, she unzipped his jeans in one swift, confident motion.

He made a strangled sound. “Are you serious? You don’t have to, you know. I enjoyed making you come more than you can imagine.”

“I want to,” she told him, and it was the farthest thing from a lie she’d ever uttered. She wanted to taste him, to drive him as wild as he’d driven her. “Tis the season, you know. It’s better to give than to receive.”

Darius pulled his erection out, his reservations clearly behind him. “That’s the spirit, Abby. But I don’t think I can sit on the counter. That feels too… submissive or something.”

Abby dragged her eyes off his incredibly gorgeous and impressive piece of equipment. “So you’d rather I just about snap my neck off bending over? Just get on the damn counter.” She shoved him again, licking her lips.

His eyes darkened. “Yes, ma’am.” He hopped up, legs spread and dangling.

Moving between them, Abby ran her fingers over his chest and nipped at his lip before she bent over.

Gripping his thighs, she flicked her tongue across the head of his cock, lapping up the tiny bead of fluid that was hovering there. “Mmm.”

His hands immediately went into her hair, grabbing at the roots.

Without any warning, Abby took him deep. It was part instinct, part knowledge of him from her dreams, that drove her. She knew it would make him groan, and it did.

“Oh, baby, that feels so good.”

Sliding up and down, taking him as far into her throat as she could with each stroke, Abby enjoyed the taste of him along with the sounds he was making. He was gripping her so tightly her scalp was stinging, but she didn’t care. It only made her feel more awake, more real, more connected to him. He waffled between gritted groans and comments of awe.

“Shit, how do you do that?” he asked. “Abby, that’s amazing. You go so deep.”

She wasn’t sure exactly how she was doing it, it wasn’t like she had clocked in thousands of hours of experience. She could actually count on one hand the number of times she had given a guy oral sex. But all those nights together in Darius’s hazy, erotically charged dreams. His desires, his particular likes, had all been conveyed to her, and she knew this would be the thing that would please him the most.