Santa’s Pucking Hat Trick (The Forbidden Reverse Harem Collection)

18. Rachel

18

RACHEL

A fter exhibiting inhuman restraint in the car on the way over, the second Sawyer and I were through the door of the guest house, we exploded into a passionate replay of our original kiss at the ice center. Lips, tongues, teeth clashing with frantic energy even though we had nowhere to be, no reason to rush beyond our own desperation to feel each other. I tangled my hands in his gorgeous curls, finding them just as soft as I’d imagined them to be, while his rough beard scraped my face deliciously, making me think it’d feel even better between my legs. He kissed me forward, pushing me back toward my bed until I stumbled onto it, breathless and laughing.

Sawyer’s hands roamed across my chest, exploring the new territory he’d been given access to. His strong grip, possessive and erotic, seemed to ground me in the moment. I sighed as he touched me, massaging my breasts, building the anticipation for when his hands would find their way under my clothes, onto my bare skin, everywhere.

He was taking his time, though. Tracing the edge of my neckline with his thumb, giving me that tiny bit of skin-to-skin contact that made my pulse quicken but not undressing me like I wanted. He pulled away from our kiss to give attention to my jaw, his warm mouth in that delicate place making me shiver. I reached for him with all of my body. My knees came up to bookend his hips, hugging him closer to me; my arms came up around his waist, pulling him ever closer.

“You smell so good,” he breathed into my ear, turning me to jelly. “Can’t wait to taste you.”

“Fuck, yes,” I whispered back, almost a plea. And with that, he started to make good on his unspoken promise. His hands began a slow, careful extrication of my clothes, amping up the tension so that by the time I was down to my bra and panties, I was struggling to regulate my breath.

He took a long moment to look at me, going so far as to pull back, breaking all contact, like he needed to concentrate and couldn’t be distracted by something as trivial as lust. He drank in every newly exposed bit of my skin like he was looking at a long revered artistic masterpiece. Not like I was being studied, but appreciated. Worshipped.

I felt his eyes like an extension of his hands, warm and leaving physical reminders of him everywhere they touched.

“I like the way you look at me,” I told him quietly, and he met my eyes, my blue-gray coolness meeting his warm, earthy hazel. Sawyer smiled, closed-lipped and almost sweet.

“I like looking at you,” he said simply. Then he moved back over me, his hands sliding instinctively from my hips, up my ribcage, wedging their way behind my back. It took no time for him to unhook my bra, and when it had been flung across the room like shackles being released, he had more of me to savor with his eyes.

“Oh, Rachel,” he sighed low, his hands sliding gently up to cup my breasts. He held them in his hands, enjoying how full they were. “Look at you. You’re a fucking dream.”

It was so sweet, even despite the expletive, that I felt myself swoon inside, not unlike when he’d revealed the plan for our private skating lessons. I’d never been with a man like this. Roman had been complimentary, had made me feel like a sexual goddess; Wes had been sweetly shy, and I relished the power I felt when he melted under my touch. Sawyer was different—a gentle exterior with raw, masculine power underneath. Not unlike his elegant Audi.

But unlike the car, I knew he’d be slow. Take his time. Drive me wild with need before he filled me up like I so badly wanted.

He started to trail slow kisses over my body, proving me right. Kisses for each of my collarbones, the swell of my breasts, my taught nipples. The pale valley between my breasts too—a delicate, sensitive place I expected him to overlook.

He wasn’t interested in overlooking anything. He took his time kissing down my stomach, and when he finally reached my panties, placing a hot, passionate kiss over the front of the damp material, I had to cry out with need. Instead of letting me twitch against the bed and wine and beg for him, though, he held me down, firm hands on my hips, confining me with his strength. Then, he took his sweet time teasing me to absolute madness.

A gentle finger traced every edge of my panties, a tickle-light touch that would have had me squirming were he not holding me down. Kisses on each of my inner and upper thighs. A nuzzle against my pussy, his nose barely brushing near my swollen clit, giving me the tiniest taste of pleasure. Then, when I was about ready to cry, he finally dipped one finger inside my panties from the side, testing my wetness with a slow swipe through my folds. He hummed, satisfied with how ready I was. Then I watched him lick my juices off his finger like I was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted.

He was trying to kill me.

I wanted him to just rip my stupid panties apart and eat me like his last meal. But he was patient as he finally pulled my last scrap of clothing down my hips, my thighs. He made sure to caress each of my knees, my calves, even showing my bare feet some tenderness by kissing each of the arches, showing me how it felt to be adored. Then, he looked at me, bare to him, and sighed.

“Gorgeous,” he said before he leaned in.

When his mouth touched my pussy for the first time, I could have cried at the relief of it. Warm and sensual, with the perfect rough contrast of his beard scraping my inner thighs, I could savor this feeling forever and never be bored. Sawyer licked me carefully, acquainting himself with my body, the sounds I made in response to his ministrations and what he could do to elicit more of them. I delved my hands into that long hair of his, relishing the eroticism of holding him down, encouraging him to keep pleasuring me the way I needed. He was more than happy to oblige.

Heat was building at a steady pace, and Sawyer was playing games. He’d reach my clit with his plush lips, giving it the perfect level of pressure and attention, then slide away to lick other parts of me, indulging himself. Then, I felt his hand come up to join him, a thick finger tracing lazy circles around my entrance before he finally delved it inside me, adding a lovely fullness to the whole affair.

I moaned as his finger thrust in and out of my wetness, another tease, a preparation for the full girth of him I couldn’t wait to take later. Now he was taking this seriously, his tongue finding a fast, delicious rhythm on my clit that had me writhing underneath him. It was so good, part of me never wanted to come, to let it end, but I got the feeling that he wouldn’t take my orgasm as a reason to stop. He ate me for the love of it, enjoying my taste as much as I enjoyed being tasted.

As if reading my mind, Sawyer confirmed, taking only a second to stop worshiping my clit so he could growl, “You taste like heaven. I could spend forever with my face buried in this pussy.”

“Yes,” I moaned, wanting that too. “Don’t stop.”

When his tongue found my clit again, it was with a lovely, firm pressure that surprised me into my first orgasm in seconds. I let out a shocked whimper as my body began to shake, my pleasure cresting and throbbing throughout all my muscles. Sawyer hummed in satisfaction, continuing to lick me, though he backed off my sensitive clit.

I was lost in a sea of sensation as my orgasm subsided. Sawyer wasn’t ready to stop, was having too good a time exploring me with his tongue, his finger still slowly sliding in and out of my channel. It didn’t take long for me to feel the telltale signs of my arousal approaching a peak again. I was panting, half crazed with need and overwhelmed by how good this was. How good Sawyer was.

When he plunged a second finger inside, hooking them both upward to stroke my G-spot right as he sucked my clit between his lips, I came apart again, harder this time. My back arched off the bed, my grip on the roots of his hair tightening to something that may have hurt him, but he only kept up his efforts to bring me all the way through my orgasm. He licked me safely, tenderly, like he feared I’d really break into a million pieces. It was mesmerizing, being touched by this man. I could hardly think straight when he finally pulled his mouth off me and began to kiss his way back up again.

I felt myself reach for his cock, the shock when I realized he was still fully clothed. My hand scrambled to remedy that situation, pulling up his shirt and half undoing the button and zipper on his pants before he stepped in to help. He laughed at my clumsy fumbling, a lighter, happier sound than I’d ever heard him make. Sure, he’d smiled and laughed with the kids at the ice center that morning, but this was different. Maybe it was more real to me because I knew I’d made him laugh like that. I had caused the gorgeous smile that split his lips, white teeth showing with his auburn facial hair framing it so well—even when it was still damp from my juices.

How could he be adorably sweet and sinfully sexy at the same time?

I had to kiss him. It was messy, nothing seductive or graceful in it, but I didn’t care. Sawyer didn’t either. He kissed me back, just as wild, the salty tang of me on his tongue. I moaned into the kiss, reaching again for his cock, sliding my hands down his now bare abdomen, the coarse hair that had fascinated me at the photoshoot. When I found his erection through his light gray underwear, I gasped.

Sawyer was rock hard, and he was huge . Roman and Wes had been plenty impressive in their own ways, both deliciously filling when they’d been inside me, but Sawyer’s cock was thicker and longer than any other I’d seen. He smiled wickedly at me as I helped him get fully naked, and when he was bare, I couldn’t stop looking. Taking all of him in.

“You…you’re so big,” I gasped out, taking in every thick, gorgeous inch of Sawyer’s cock. He was glistening with precum, and I couldn’t help but reach out a hand to grab his base, noticing with a shiver that I couldn’t make my thumb and middle finger meet on either side. As much as I looked forward to feeling him stretch my pussy to its limits, I was almost worried he wouldn’t fit. I had a decent amount of experience—more in the past few weeks—but I wasn’t a fucking pro . He made my vibrator look puny.

There was something of Roman’s usual overconfidence in the way Sawyer was trying to hold back his smile. He watched me holding him, satisfied with my awed reaction, and he leaned in to kiss my jaw.

“It’s all for you, sweetheart. If you want it, it’s yours.”

God, did I want it. I edged closer to him, pressing our naked bodies together in an intimate hug, relishing the way his erection nudged my lower stomach. “I need it,” I told him, barely a whisper. “Raw.”

Sawyer shivered, understanding my meaning—no condom, nothing between us. Part of me knew that it was stupid, frankly, to have unprotected sex with a third man in as many weeks, but I didn’t care. This was why I took the pill in the first place. I needed us skin to skin.

He needed it just as badly. He wrapped me in his arms and laid me gently back on the bed, holding some of his weight off me but still giving me the perfect amount of pressure that felt like safety. Our kiss was slow, passionate, our tongues and mouths savoring one another so completely. Then, together, Sawyer and I guided his cock to my wet entrance.

I held the base while he brought the tip, slick with his need and mine, into contact. He kissed me a few times, smaller, more reassuring ones as he slowly thrust his hips forward.

It was going to be a tight fit, even as soaked and open as I was to him. Sawyer helped me breathe through it, whispering sweet words into my ear about how I was so tight, felt so good, was such a good girl. His hand came up to tease my nipple, a gentle massage that was just as erotic as it was relaxing. Slowly, carefully, he kept pushing forward, stretching my walls to their limits.

The pleasure was greater than any pain. I’d never felt so full, so utterly claimed before. By the time I’d adjusted, spreading my thighs further apart and wrapping my legs around Sawyer’s waist, I needed him to thrust like I needed my next breath. I locked eyes with him, entranced by that golden hazel hue, and told him what I wanted next.

“Fuck me slow and hard, Sawyer. Please.”

He was more than happy to oblige.

Together, we fell into a rhythm like the ebb and flow of the tides. He rocked into me, careful and full of passion, his body showing mine nothing but love. It was all I could call it. Sawyer wasn’t just fucking me. He stroked my hair with his large, strong hand, kissed my mouth like he would be more than happy to have only that, and moved inside me in a way I could only describe as making love. The tenderness of it was shocking.

My reaction was even more so. Pleasure built like a slow, delicious ascent, so satisfying that I could feel happy tears spring to my eyes even as I moaned and gasped and begged him for more. It was so intimate, our bodies pressed entirely together in a way that restricted his movements, but Sawyer was a natural. He knew just how much to pull back, just how hard I needed him to rock back forward, filling me to bursting.

I was getting close, so close to another orgasm, when Sawyer slowed his rhythm more, making it torturous. Fuck, I loved his torture—wanted this to last forever, even if it meant I had to wait years and years to come again. He used his impressive strength to roll us over in a smooth motion, not separating us. Now I was on top of him, my breasts hanging and pressing into his chest, my hair falling like a veil around his face. Sawyer growled in pleasure, craning up to kiss me hard, pulling my lower lip between his teeth in an almost savage bite.

I cried out as I sunk back onto him, somehow feeling him even deeper than before from this new angle. Sawyer held my hips, guiding me into a new, faster rhythm. I followed him in perfect sync as he thrust up into me at the same time, both of us growing breathless and moaning into each other’s mouths.

It didn’t even take another minute. As he fucked up into me and I pounded down on him, the first spasms began, and then I was screaming in an orgasm that had my whole body shaking, twitching, lighting up in multicolored bliss. Sawyer groaned, a triumphant sound, and in another few seconds, another few delicious thrusts, I felt him jerk to a stop, his cock inside me twitching violently as he came too. A perfectly poetic end to the whole affair—intimate, sweet, but no less intense for it.

We’d agreed in the car that Sawyer wouldn’t stay the night. This wasn’t a onetime thing, since I doubted either of us could deny ourselves the opportunity to do that again, but there were rules to no-strings arrangements like ours. One of them was no emotional intimacy. No matter how loving and tender the sex had been, there was no reason for me to believe we could cuddle and fall asleep in each other’s arms after the fact.

But that was exactly what happened. We stayed connected for as long as either of us could stand it, and then we rolled over into a more comfortable position, him pulling his cock out of me at last. I slung my leg over his as I snuggled in and laid my head on his chest, listening to his beating heart. We told ourselves it would only be a minute. That he’d get up soon and leave, and I’d go to bed in my guest house alone. But we both drifted off to sleep, still wrapped in each other, and the warmth of him permeated my dreams.