She spun around, smashing her lips against mine.

Her taste.

Her sighs.

Fuck.

“Those gifts should be for you,” I groaned into her mouth. “This Christmas belongs to you.”

She pulled back, staring at the black and white card. “This is perfect.”

“I have other presents for you, Story.” I dragged my nose down her cheek. “I have a mountain of them. For you. For our baby.”

“I didn’t get you anything,” she whispered.

“Don’t buy me things, Snitch.”

“But you can buy me a mountain?” Her gaze flitted to mine. “How is that fair?”

“It’s not.” My smile ghosted her lips. “I want to give you a lifetime of unfair.”

“I’ve been so worried about you,” she mumbled through my kisses. “I can’t do this. I need some way to talk to you.”

“I should have brought you a phone. I’ll get you one as soon as possible. Until then… Wait,” I finished, grimly.

She wrapped her arms around my neck. “I could write you handwritten letters using the servants?”

“No.” I gritted. “Do not use the servants.”

“But you did?”

“That was a risk I’m not willing to take again, but I had to last time. I had to see you.” I dragged my nose up her neck, biting the soft skin at her jugular.

Our lips met once more, her hands tangling into my hair.

“Why? I feel like…” She sighed into my mouth. “I feel like I’m five steps behind you on everything, five steps behind everyone, trying to play catch-up. I know you’re keeping secrets. I don’t know why. Please tell me what happened to you. Why did no one react when those guards forced you to your knees?”

Story pulled back, a wrinkle between her brows, waiting for me. Unintelligible raised voices drifted back to us. We were only a few feet from the sitting room, hidden just around the corner, and one of my mother’s many Christmas trees blocking the view of us.

“Grayson?” Story pressed.

Her dress was thick velvet, the kind of shit that takes another person to put on. Impossible to just slide a hand under or inside—unless I felt like ripping it again.

I slid down her body. “Because it wasn’t the first time.”

Her small hands landed on my shoulders. “What happens if you’re caught? Are you going to get in trouble for being here?”

I get a decent beating. “Nothing.”

Her eyes landed on my nose. “Don’t lie to me.”

She wanted to talk, and maybe we should’ve, but I didn’t have answers to the questions in her eyes. I don’t know how to save her, but I could make her feel good.

I squeezed her thighs. “Little wife, you don’t need to worry about me.”

I lifted the thick fabric of her dress, sliding under. The hoop beneath was large enough to fit almost my entire body, and I felt like some rogue in a long forgotten era. Sheer white stockings slid up her perfect thighs, and the sounds of Christmas faded away until it was nothing but Story, her gasp buttercream frosting sliding down my throat.

Fuck. I’d missed her cunt. She was so wet, her thin white panties outlined every pretty, swollen fold. What a perfect fucking pussy.

Tags: Mary Catherine Gebhard Crowne Point Erotic
Source: readsnovelonline.net