Free The Billionaire's Christmas (A Sinclair Novella) by J. S. Scott Page B

faster.
    “Open your eyes. I want to watch you come,” he rasped. “Tell me that’s what you want.”
    “Make me come. Please,” she pleaded, opening her eyes to meet his feral expression.
    He looked satisfied with her answer, and finally gave her what she needed so desperately. Grasping her hand with his, he moved their entwined fingers with bold strokes that had her panting and gasping. “Come for me, angel. Now.”
    Emily couldn’t have held back if she tried. It was as if he knew exactly what would send her over the edge, and she felt her impending climax clawing at her belly as the pulsation began. Letting out a long moan, she tilted her head back, her eyes never breaking contact with Grady’s fierce, possessive, and determined stare.
    “Oh, God,” she choked out as the climax thrummed through her body, her entire being shaken by an orgasm so intense that she had to reach for the handle on the door of the shower to keep herself on her feet.
    Grady held her, keeping her steady as he kissed her tenderly, as though he were tasting the last drop of her pleasure, absorbing the last of her ecstasy.
    Emily floated down slowly, Grady pulling her close and rocking her body against his as she recovered. She shivered, and he turned her so the hot water was at her back, and that small protective gesture just put her under his spell a little deeper.
    “Are you okay?” she asked, worried that he’d strained something. She’d tried to be still, but it was more movement than he should be doing at the moment.
    “I just lived a fantasy. I’m better than okay,” he answered, amusement in his voice.
    It wasn’t most men’s fantasy to watch a woman orgasm without having one of their own, but this was Grady, and he was the most unselfish man she’d ever known. The fact that fulfilling her needs was his fantasy made her want to cry for some strange reason. Maybe because he was the first man who ever really gave a shit about making her happy? Her hand slid down his sculpted abdomen and curled around his rigid cock. He was rock hard, and Emily could almost feel the blood throbbing through the shaft.
    Grady groaned and moved his hand down to take her fingers away from him. “I can’t take much more, angel.”
    “Let me. Please,” she begged, needing to make him feel as good as he had made her feel. “But you have to stay very still,” she teased. “No hurting yourself.”
    “Baby, I already hurt, but not from the damn sutures. I want to be deep inside you right now. I want to be buried in you, in your heat, until I burn.”
    Stepping back, she ran her hand down his chest, savoring the flex of muscle beneath her fingers. “You’ll have to settle for this,” she told him in a sultry voice as she followed her hand and dropped to her knees on the tile.
    “Emily. No,” he said in a husky, tortured groan.
    Her hand continued to stroke up and down the shaft as her tongue flicked out to lick the velvety head. “No?” she questioned.
    “Oh, fuck yeah,” he panted harshly.
    Smiling, she took him into her mouth and did one long suck, bringing a strangled groan from Grady as she repeated it again. She moved her tongue down his long length, and then took as much of him as she could manage. Her hands moved, needing to touch his body, finally settling her palms on his ass and gripping it hard as she devoured him.
    “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” he groaned. “That feels so damn good. I won’t last.”
    His hips thrust, and one of his hands came down to thread through her soaking-wet hair, guiding her head as she opened her jaw as wide as she could, trying to take his cock deeper. Her throat squeezed tight with every entry, massaging the front of his shaft, bringing a strangled groan from Grady with every thrust. Her fingernails dug into his tight ass, pulling him to her with every stroke.
    “Sweetheart . . . Fuck . . . I can’t . . . I’ll come in your mouth,” he growled incoherently.
    That was exactly what she