The Billionaire’s Christmas Bride by L. Steele

22

Weston

"Oops." Her lips quiver and her chin wobbles. She drops her gaze to my chest.

I glance down to find splotches of the brown gooey mixture sticking to my pullover. "That item of clothing costs £7000," my voice is calm. No hint of the anger that bubbles up inside… Along with something else—frustration. 48 hours… I’ve tried to teach her to obey. I’ve ordered her to obey me, told her to follow my directions. I’ve walked naked in front of her, slept with my body coiled around hers. I’ve raced toward her when I thought she was in danger… Been on the phone making sure I could find a way to protect her… And what does she do? She greets me with this…this goop? A low growl rumbles up my chest.

She blinks, "Did you just…did you?"

"What?"

"You, ah, sounded like Max when he’s frustrated."

I glower, "Did you compare me to a bloody mutt?"

A snort spills from her throat.

The fuck?"Are you laughing at me?"

"Me?" She bites down on her lower lip. Her cheeks redden. She lowers the bowl—her hand trembles… Is it from my proximity or from the weight of the vessel? Maybe it’s fear of how I’ll react. Good. The blasted container dips. I grab hold of it.

"Ah, thanks," her voice is strangled.

"Don’t thank me." I reach past her, lower the bowl to the counter.

"Wait," she bursts out.

"What?" I frown.

She angles her body, scoops up some of the mixture. She glances from it to me, "It, uh, has chocolate."

"So?"

"I missed a spot."

"Excuse me?" I glare at her.

She bites her lips and her eyes gleam.

"Don’t you fucking dare, Princess, I—"

She tosses the stuff at my face. It hits my cheek, and some of it drips down my chin, onto my chest.

"There," she angles her head to the side, "much better."

"That’s it," I growl, "you’re going to pay for that."

She squeaks, tries to duck around me. I plant my injured hand on the other side of her, caging her in.

"Apologize," I growl.

"No."

"Say you’re sorry."

She sticks out her tongue, "You can go and dunk your swollen head in that stupid hot tub."

"I have a better idea." I reach for the mixture in the bowl, scoop up a palmful.

"No, no, no." She angles her body, takes in what I am doing. "You won’t," she breathes.

"Oh, you bet I will." I smash the gooey stuff in her face.

She screams, wriggles around. I thrust my hips into her, to hold her in place, then rub the mix into her face, down her neck, across her chest… over the fabric of her blouse that encloses her breasts, and draw circles around her erect nipples. The blood rushes to my groin. My dick lengthens, nestles happily into the valley between her legs.

"Wes… Weston," she gulps.

"Shh!"

I glare at those peaked delights. I reach behind her to gather more of the goop and trail it over one breast, then the other. The mixture dribbles down from each mound. "Beautiful." I lower my head, close my mouth around one.

"Ah," a moan leaves her mouth. "Wes… Please."

I glare up at her. "Stay still," I command. "Don’t say a word."

She purses her lips, draws down her eyebrows. She opens her mouth.

I click my tongue. "Don’t," I growl, "Nothing; nada."

"But—"

"Another word and I’ll stuff this mix in your mouth, and I promise you, that would be a waste, cause I plan to use every drop of your muffin mix to draw out your pleasure."

She swallows, then presses her lips together.

"Excellent."

She stares at me.

"Should I reward you for that little bit of compliance, hmm?"

She nods.

"All right then." I reach behind her, snatch up some of the mix. I hold my fingers to her lips, "Open."

"But—"

I plop my fingers inside her mouth. She bites down with her teeth and I feel the tug all the way to the tip of my dick. My cock thickens, pushes up into her.

Her gaze widens.

"Feel that, Buttercup?"

I bring my other hand to massage her breast, then press my hips forward with enough pressure that her pelvis cradles every throbbing inch of my very aroused shaft.

She swallows, and the suction on my fingers, sends a shudder of heat racing down my spine.

"Fuck." My breathing grows shallow. I ease my finger out from between her lips, and bring it to my own. I lick my glistening fingertips.

She moans, "Jesus." She gulps.

"Nothing to do with the man above," I mutter, "but if I don’t have you right now, the one between my legs is going to hate me for a long time."

She chuckles. "You’re so corny." She grins up at me, her features alight, with so much mischief, so much life, that fuck, my cock thickens even more.

I frown. "Silence," I snap.

She winces, then pouts.

Fucking adorable. I shake my head. The fuck am I doing, thinking about her in those cutesy adjectives? And cutesy—? What the fuck? How did that even get in my vocabulary. I frown down at her and she stares back.

"I’m corny, hmm?" I reach behind her, grab the bowl with both hands, then upturn it over her head.

She gasps.

The mixture flows down her face, her neck, her chest, down to where our bodies are joined. "That’s better." I place it down behind her, then straighten. I step back, rub the mix down her front, across her stomach, to the valley between her thighs.

Her breath hitches.

I pat the mix into the apex of her thighs, onto her jeans.

"Ah," she trembles. I sink down to my knees, then thrust my face into her sweet, core. I bite down on the fabric that covers the crotch of her jeans and her entire body bucks. She grabs at my hair and tugs. The pain rams straight down my spine, to my cock. I grip her thighs, pry them apart, then dig my teeth into the now-damp cloth that stretches across her pussy.

She screams. "Oh, my God, ohmigod…oh…my…"

I rise to my feet, bringing her up with me, and hoist her onto the counter and straight onto the bowl I’d placed behind her, which tips sending more of the gooey mess to pool around her. She shivers, tips her chin up.

"I need to be inside of you."

She nods. She opens and closes her mouth, her gaze pleading with me. But she doesn’t speak. About time. "You worried about our arrangement?"

She jerks her chin.

"So maybe I should…" I step back.

She scissors her legs around my waist.

"Don’t want me to go, huh?" I study her face. "Want me to fuck you?"

She frowns back.

"Where?"

She purses her lips.

"In your mouth?"

She shakes her head.

"Your pussy?"

She nods.

"I have a better idea." I lean in until our breaths mingle, "How about I take your arse?"

She swallows; her pupils dilate.

"You want that, huh?"

She bites down on her lower lip and her little teeth worry the tender skin.

I rub my thumb over the swollen skin and she gulps. "Maybe I’ll save that for later, huh?"

Her shoulders rise and fall.

"Maybe I shove my fingers in your arse, while I tear into your pussy with my dick, while I stick my tongue down your throat?"

She nods, then shakes her head, then throws her hands up.

I know the feeling."Decisions, decisions." I chuckle.

She digs her thighs into my hips, uses it to leverage herself up, then smashes her lips to mine.