The Stocking Was Hung

“Lie back,” he orders in a low voice, his fingers going back to gently brushing over me until my thighs start to shake with need and excitement.

I immediately allow my arms give out and fall to my back on the bed, my spine arching and a gasp flying out of my mouth when his thumbs part me and I feel his warm breath ghosting across my *.

My eyes squeeze closed and my hands clutch the blankets on either side of my body when I feel one of his long fingers make a lazy trail down my center and then back up again, spreading my wetness along the way.

He uses the tip of that one, perfect finger to circle my clit, so soft and gentle that I growl in frustration. I want his mouth on me, I want his fingers inside me, I want everything he has to give me, and I want it now.

“Say my name, Noel,” he begs quietly, the pad of his finger lazily trailing back down through my wetness and up to lightly circle my clit again.

“Sam,” I whisper with need. “Oh my God, Sam.”

I hear him growl and before I can take another breath, his mouth is on my body. His hot, wet, perfect lips wrap around my clit and he sucks it into his mouth.

“Fuck!” I shout, my back bowing even more as he brings his thumbs back to spread me open for his oral assault.

His tongue replaces his finger, slowly licking me from top to bottom, stopping at my clit to circle around and around it until I feel like I’m going mad with the need to come. Every inch of my body tingles as he continues to swirl his tongue around my swollen nub, spreading me open as wide as he can with his thumbs.

He licks and he sucks and he devours my *, alternating between teasing my clit with the tip of his tongue, to plunging it inside of me, fucking me with it.

I’m hot. I’m wet. I’m a writhing, cursing mess of need on this bed and my hands immediately let go of their grip on the blankets, transferring it to the hair on top of Sam’s head. I slide my fingers through the short length and hold on for dear life when two of his fingers plunge inside me.

I hold his face against my * and my hips start to move against his mouth. He tortures me with his tongue against my clit and his fingers curl up inside of me, making me gasp with pleasure and call out his name.

“You taste like heaven,” he breathes, his mouth hovering right against my clit while his fingers continue their slow, torturous movements in and out of me. “Come for me, Noel. I need to feel you come with my mouth on you.”

“Yes, holy shit, yes,” I moan, my hips jerking toward him as he lowers his mouth once again to my * and resumes that delicious swirl of his tongue around my clit.

I’m right there on the edge of bliss, the slow pump of his fingers in and out of my body making the tingle and pleasure of my orgasm speed through me like a rocket.

“Let. Me. Feel. You. Come,” he urges me in between swipes of his tongue.

I clutch his hair in my fingers and tug so hard I don’t know how he isn’t screaming in pain as his fingers thrust deep inside me and make my toes curl with pleasure.

“Sam,” I say on a breath. “I’m coming, fuck, I’m coming!”

I feel my * pulse, my heart beat centered around that area, enhancing everything until I can do nothing but writhe on the bed and buck my hips against his mouth when he sucks hard on my clit and fucks his fingers into me roughly. My release is never-ending, and I feel like I’m floating in a cloud of orgasm heaven as I continue to move my hips and drag out this feeling for as long as possible.

He holds his fingers deep inside of me and his mouth pressed against my clit as I slowly come down to earth, aftershocks of my orgasm making my hips jerk every few seconds until I finally open my eyes and let go of the death grip I have on his hair.

With one last swipe of his tongue all along the center of my *, he sits back on his legs and my arms fall to my sides on the bed.

“Holy shit, do you have a permit for that mouth?” I mutter, my breath puffing out of me like I just ran a marathon.

He laughs and I feel the bed dip when he sits down next to me. I bonelessly roll over to my side as he lies down and wraps his arms around me, pulling me up against his fully-clothed body.

“Best. Present. Ever,” he tells me with a smile.

Sliding my arms around his waist and hooking one leg over his hip, I hug him to me tightly, wishing I could take a picture of this moment, frame it and put it on my nightstand.

We stay tangled up together in bed, the only sounds in the room are the muffled voices of visitors outside in my parent’s yard as they show up in droves to take a walk through the light display.

I want to tell him to never leave. I want to tell him this stupid charade stopped being a charade the moment he kissed me under the pot mistletoe. I want to ask him if he’ll be my boyfriend for real and not for a fake show for my family.

I want so many things that I’m just too fucking afraid to ask for. Things I’ve never wanted in my entire life, but suddenly can’t stop thinking about with my face pressed up against his chest while I breathe him in.