His Holiday Dare by Amelia Wilde

Author:Amelia Wilde [Wilde, Amelia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-12-22T16:00:00+00:00

5

Ryan

Ellie sticks close to my side in the elevator, her arm hooked around mine like she’s afraid I might disappear if she lets go.

That’s the last thing on earth that’s going to happen. I wouldn’t leave her right now if an angel swooped down in front of me to tell me that Christ was born. Not a damn chance.

“You look so serious,” she whispers.

“I’m trying not to fuck you in the elevator, El.”

Ellie turns bright red at that, which makes it even harder to wait for the doors to option.

The elevator lets us off on the top floor of the building. There are two suites up here, separated by a wide lobby. I guide Ellie to the door on the right. Open it. Take her inside.

And I’m expecting for her to comment on the suite. On the fact that it has a big living room, a separate dining area, a full kitchen. Two large bedrooms. I have a tour offer on my tongue. A way to get her from the doorway to the bedroom. A way to slow things down in case she’s having second thoughts.

We’re three steps inside the suite when she pounces.

Literally pounces, leaping onto me, crashing into me. I catch her in my arms and kiss her.

The world is gone. It’s lost in a soft explosion of her lips and her tongue and even nips from her teeth. In the sounds she makes when I test the inside of her mouth with my tongue, the way I’ve always wanted to. Always.

I’m furious at my coat, and more furious at hers. Why did we put these on again? The coats are the reason I have to put her down so we can both wrestle ourselves out of them. When we’re finished she rises on tiptoe and kisses me again, her hands working at the buttons of my shirt.

“We could ease into it,” I say into her mouth. “There’s no reason to rush this, El...”

“Shut the hell up.”

Message received.

Teamwork is always better when it comes to taking clothes off, and she’s quite skilled at freeing me from mine. I take off the sweater she’s wearing, the tank top and bra underneath, and then I get down on my knees and tug her leggings down over her hips. Lower. I’m not a human man anymore. I’m an electric charge of want and the only way I can survive is to fuck her.

It’s so wrong, to want to fuck your best friend. It’s so wrong.

I don’t care.

She’s wearing red panties.

I run my thumbs over the fabric. She’s been wearing lacy, taunting things like these panties all the time and I never knew. She probably wears them while she sits at her desk at her library job, her glasses on when she doesn’t want to wear contacts.

“Ry, what are you—”

I’m very rude. I don’t give her time to finish the sentence before I lick her through red lace.

Her knees wobble.

I do it again.

Part of me wants to be a gentleman and lay

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