“I’ve seen the library at Windfall. You’ve probably read even more than me.”
“Uh, no. Not even close. What happens in this one?” I put my hand on a book at random. It turns out to be Lady Chatterley’s Lover, by D.H. Lawrence. Whoops.
“Don’t pretend like you don’t know that one. You like the Brits, remember?”
“That doesn’t mean I’ve all of British literature.” I look around the room again. “I mean, you have.”
“It’s not great, anyway. Too stoically British for me. You should read it.” A wry smile pops onto Sterling’s face as he adds, “Might give you pointers on falling for someone beneath you.”
I shake my head. I hate it when he says things like that, but I don’t want to fight—so I pretend he means something else. “Are you saying you’re a libertine?”
“Your virtue is not safe.” He pulls me toward him, his hands greedy for my body.
Francie’s voice sounds behind us in the hall as Sterling gives my earlobe a playful nip. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight, you two.”
She shuts the door, leaving us alone. “I still can’t believe she’s okay with me being in your room.”
“Like people our age don’t sleep together in Valmont?”
“We’re raised to sneak around,” I tell him. “It’s the proper thing to do.”
“Wait, where were we?”
“You were assailing my virtue.”
“Right,” he says, and his hands are on me again. “Where do you come down on opening presents before Christmas?”
He pops the top button of my red plaid pajamas.
“We always open presents on Christmas Eve.”
“What about Christmas Eve’s Eve? I’m not sure I can wait until Christmas morning,” he explains. “You are my present, right?”
“As long as it won’t ruin Christmas or anything.”
He pops another button, just between my breasts, and I can feel the familiar electric throb of his hands on my body. I close my eyes and let it take over.
“See, that’s your problem right there, Lucky.”
I peek down at what he’s talking about. “Huh?”
“The bow is supposed to go on the outside of the present.” He points to the small silk bow sewn on my bra.
“You know, I wasn’t sure I had it right. That’s why there are two bows.”
“Two?” He fiddles with the drawstring on my bottoms. “Where’s the other one?”
“You’ll have to look.”
He bunches the fabric of my shirt in either hand and pulls me toward him. He peers down at my chest, inspecting my body carefully. “No, not here.”
He drops on one knee, pulls up the loose flannel fabric of my bottoms. “Am I closer?”
“You’re getting warmer.”
His hands run up the backs of my thighs. When they reach my ass, he takes his time, clearly enjoying the inspection process. “It’s not here, either.”
“You know, when I’m really excited for a present, I can’t help ripping the wrapping off.” It’s not exactly true. Most of the Christmas presents I’ve received seem to have been picked off a shelf during a brisk walk through Nieman Marcus. I learned pretty quickly not to get my hopes up.
Sterling rises to his feet and fixes me with a hungry look. My eyes flutter again as I feel his hands grab the fabric around the clasped buttons of my top. A sharp yank separates one side from the other, and I hear the buttons cascade to the floor in every direction.
“What am I going to wear on Christmas?” I gasp, but Sterling distracts me immediately.
With two strong hands below my ribs, he lifts me from the ground. He’s pinned the cuffs of my pant with his feet, and they slide free of my hips as he lifts, pooling beneath me. That’s what I get for suggesting he rip open his gift.
“Found it,” he says triumphantly. His teeth nip my skin as he bites down on the matching bow of my panties. When he gently lowers me to the small bed, his teeth are still clasped on it.
He draws my panties off with the bow between his teeth, and I nearly combust. Sterling smirks as my hips wiggle closer. Sliding his palms down my inner thighs, he coaxes them open before dipping to yoke himself with my knees.
I try to say something, but the feel of his breath there robs me of words.
His warm tongue incapacitates me further, and I hear myself moan in pleasure as if I were outside my own body. He takes his time, moving slowly over a large area, then increases the tempo and pressure until I’m pulsing to his rhythm.
He sucks my clit into his mouth, and it’s as if I can feel every drop of blood in my body go to meet him. I bite my lip, trying to stifle my pleasure. There’s no way these walls can stand up to the pleasure threatening to spill out of me. There’s a swirl and a nip and the first loud moan escapes.
Sterling’s hand covers my mouth. Apparently, he’s worried about traumatizing Francie, too.
His other hand spreads me, and then his tongue dips lower. I whimper against his palm, covering his hand with my own to help smother my noises. He seems to sense that I’m close, and his tongue thrusts into me while his hand clamps down on my cries.
The pleasure is tidal, drawing me out and pushing me back. But something’s missing. The waves fade and I yank his hand away from my mouth. “I need you. Now.”
“That bed is awfully squeaky.” He shakes his head, and a painful throb fills the absence of his mouth.
“Then screw the bed.” I shove him away and drop to the floor. He gets the idea, falling back on his heels, as I reach over to my bag beside the bed and remove a condom. He watches, his eyes narrow and hooded, as I roll
