Page 3 of Midnight and Mistletoe

“Yeah. Fuck. Yeah.”

“Say my name when you do.”

He takes me back into his mouth, deeper this time, and I lose it embarrassingly fast. My hand fists in his hair, and I gasp, “Foster,” as I come. He takes it all, works me through it, and doesn’t let me go until my legs are trembling and my breathing is a mess.

He kisses the inside of my thigh. Then my hip bone. Then he stands and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

I pull him down onto the bed and roll us so he’s flat on his back. His jeans are still on, which offends me on a personal level. I fix that until Fox is stretched out naked underneath me, silver-streaked black hair fanned against my pillow and those dark eyes hooded with lust. I take a moment to just look at him.

“You’re staring,” he says.

“You’re pretty.”

“You’re supposed to be reciprocating.” He points down at his hard cock as if I would have ever missed it.

“I’m getting to it.”

“Griffin,” he begs.

I settle between his knees and take him into my mouth without any of the finesse he showed me because I don’t have his patience.

He makes a sound that’s almost a curse and almost my name.

“Fuck. Fuck. Griffin⁠—”

I hum in response. He makes another sound, higher this time, and his hips twitch up before he catches himself.

“You can,” I say, pulling off just enough to speak. “Fuck my mouth. Whatever you want.”

“Jesus.”

I take him back in and let him lose control, just a little. He does, one hand tight in my hair, guiding without forcing, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

The small part of my brain that isn’t laser-focused on bringing him pleasure is still wondering how my night turned one-hundred-and-eighty degrees from stress and worry into this.

When Fox starts babbling, my name mostly, but also fuck and please, I know he’s close.

“Griffin, I’m going to… Finn⁠—”

I don’t move despite his warning as he comes with a sound I want to bottle and keep forever. I take it, all of it, until he’s twitching and oversensitive and pushing weakly at my shoulder.

I pull off, kiss his hip, and crawl up his body to collapse next to him.

For a long moment, we just breathe.

“Fuck,” Fox says finally, his voice wrecked. “I missed this.”

“Yeah.”

“That mouth of yours.”

“You keep saying that.”

He huffs a laugh, one hand coming up to drag lazily through his hair. “Give me ten minutes.”

“For what?”

“Round two.”