Holliday looked sexy as fuck wearing a black lace bra and boy shorts. Her normally light eyes were dark, penetrating. Every glance seduced me under her sexual spell. She prowled forward on all fours towards the edge of the bed, and her hair fell in a sexy tangle around her shoulders. Jesus Christ. The way she was looking at me had me nearly coming right then and there. But I maintained my restraint. It was hard. Pun Intended.
“Absolutely stunning,” I said, working the buttons on my dress shirt.
She rolled up to her knees as I stepped to the foot of the bed. Her hands skimmed across my chest and over my shoulders, pushing the fabric down.
Leaning forward, I brushed her long hair out of the way, kissing along the soft spot between her neck and her shoulder. Her scent was intoxicating. She smelled heavenly, like warm sugar and flowers. I didn’t even know if that was a thing, but fuck me if it didn’t make me want to devour her all at once.
I cupped her face in my hands, memorizing every beautiful line and angle. My thumbs gently grazed across her lips and her cheek.
She looked up at me through heavy-lidded eyes, “Kiss me, Ronan.” Her voice was breathy. Needy.
I threaded my fingers through her hair, gripping the back of her head, pulling her lips to mine. I kissed her long and hot. Sliding my tongue with hers, teasing, tasting, and savoring the feel of her soft lips against mine, locking it in my memory. The softest, most delicate moan escaped her throat—a sound of pleasure. Bringing her closer, I circled my arms tight around her waist. Her flat stomach pressed against my erection. Slowly, I started grinding against her. Holliday moaned again as her body went lax in my arms—a sign of surrender.
I bent my head to kiss down her throat and gripped her waist with one arm, dragging her up the bed with me. With our mouths still pressed together, her hands slid through my hair, pulling and tugging at my curls, urging me on.
Then I remembered—the camera.
I eased down her body, pressing kisses all over her silky-smooth skin. I licked a line from her neck to her breasts before making my way down her stomach, where I stopped at her navel to wink at her. My fingers skimmed the edge of her panties. Her hips bucked. I knew what she wanted, and instead, I kissed above her scar on her inner thigh. I met her eyes; she gave me a sexy little smile. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips were swollen, and her silky, dark hair was fanned out against the mountain of pillows. I’d never seen her look more stunning.
“Ronan, please,” she begged.
“I’ll take care of you. I promise.”
***Amazon Top 100 Best Selling Author in Romantic Erotica, Erotica Fiction and Holiday Romance***
Christy Pastore lives in the Midwest with her husband, two lovable dogs and their crazy cool cat. When's she not writing flirty and dirty books or updating her celebrity fashion blog, she loves shopping online, binge watching her favorite shows and daydreaming.
She believes books, especially love stories are an escape from the real world.
A few of Christy's favorite things:
Bold Heroine's -- Swoony Hero's with a Naughty Side -- Guilty Pleasure Reads and TV Shows -- Designer Handbags -- Men In Suits -- Black and White Photos-- Sexy Accents-- Snow-- Pinterest -- Twitter -- Instagram-- Wine-- Champagne-- Soy Latte's -- Gummi Bears-- Gourmet Grilled Cheese Sandwiches -- Pickles-- Popcorn --Sparkling Water-- Eye Cream-- Pedicures-- Traveling-- 80's Music-- Musicals-- Movie Trailers -- Celebrity Red Carpet Interviews -- Award Shows -- Making Lists.
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