His Christmas Cookie

“So perfect,” I tell her in Russian as I lose all ability to translate. I can’t think when her naked body is before me, and I fall to my knees in front of her.

My hands grip the width of her hips, and I suck on her nipples one after the other. Her fingers dig into my hair as I keep doing it until she rolls her hips forward, demanding attention there too.

I kiss my way down her stomach and bite the little curve of her belly. She hisses when I graze my teeth lower and then put my hand on the back of her thigh. I pull it up and rest it on my shoulder as I open her for my mouth.* * *“Kiska, you smell like petals.” I trace my knuckle over her lower lips, looking up at her. She watches me with wide eyes as I place a kiss there. “You are soft like roses here.”

“Frost.” She grips my hair, silently begging me to give her what she needs.

In this moment there is nothing I would deny her. Not my mouth, my cock, my soul.

“Da, I will give you what you want, kiska.”Chapter 7CookieWant isn't the word I’d use. What I need is for him to make me cum. I have one hand digging into his hair and the other braced on the sink behind me. I can’t pull my eyes away from Frost as his warm breath tickles my sex. My nipples are so hard it’s almost painful, which I never knew was a thing. How can something hurt and feel good at the same time?

If he’ll give me anything I want, then why isn't he? My body is screaming for it, and he knows it. I need to cum like the last time we were in a bathroom together. I’ve tried to give myself that relief since then, but my fingers were never going to be as good as his. I try and push his head against me, but he doesn’t move.

“Ask for it.” He blows on my sex, making me whimper. He nips my thigh when I try to get closer.

“Please, Frost.” I start to beg because there’s no fighting this man. When he gets his hands on me, I lose all control.

“Please what?” His words are lazy, and there’s no urgency to them at all. He blows on my sex again, and I want to smack him. It’s not exactly possible with his head between my legs, but I’m desperate.

“Make me cum!” I shout.

I know it’s not going to take much to send me over the edge. I’d already been thinking about him when I was in the shower, playing out one of the many fantasies I’ve had about him. I couldn't get myself off today when I normally can without a problem. This time there was nothing, my body went on strike, but now that he’s here, the floodgates are open.

“Anything for you, kiska,” he says before he buries his face against my sex.

I knew I was close, because the first time his tongue slides across my clit, I cum. My fingers tighten in his hair, and my face flushes with heat. I don’t know if it’s from the orgasm or the embarrassment of cumming so quickly.

He says something in Russian before he’s on me again. His tongue swipes quickly over my clit before sucking it into his mouth.

“Stop,” I beg him because my clit is too sensitive. My whole body jerks at the sensation; it’s one I’ve never felt before. He gives me a few more licks, his eyes locking with mine.

“Do you really want me to stop?”

Stop? Why on earth would he ever stop?

“No!” I blurt out.* * *My body is still as needy as it was before the orgasm, and that’s all the encouragement he needs to hear before his mouth is back on me. When he pushes his tongue inside my body, my hips thrust forward. He keeps thrusting it in and out of me as if he’s fucking me, and I cry out. He pulls his mouth away and replaces his tongue with a finger as he goes back to licking my clit.

“Frost,” I breathe. I’ve never felt anything so wonderful before.

He adds another finger, and I keep rocking my hips with each thrust. I enjoy the small burn I feel as he makes both fingers fit inside. I close my eyes and picture him on top of me. It’s not his fingers making me feel so full; instead it’s his cock.

“Eyes on me, kiska, or I stop.” I open my eyes at his warning. “I want you to know who is doing this to your body. Who put that look on your face. I want to know you’re thinking of me and only me.”

Who the hell else would I be thinking of? The man takes up all my thoughts. It doesn't matter if he’s eating me out or not. It’s been that way since I first laid my eyes on him at Thanksgiving.