Mistletoe With My Mother in Law

LUCIEN POV

Elena's green eyes locked on mine across the kitchen island, dark and unblinking, like she could already taste me. I was still sitting on the barstool, my legs slightly parted from the way she'd stepped between them moments earlier. The hem of my soft holiday trousers rested pooled at my ankles; she'd already undone my belt, and neither of us had made a move to stop. The soft glow of the Christmas tree lights reflected off the marble counter, casting warm shadows across the room.

"You're flushed, Lucian," she said, her voice low and rough, cutting through the faint sound of jazz music playing in the living room. "Your cheeks are pink, your breath is hitched, and I can see your length straining against that thin fabric like it's begging for attention." She leaned closer, her elbows on the marble so her full breasts rested heavily on the edge of the counter. "Tell me I'm wrong."

I couldn't say a thing. My breath was shallow, and I was already throbbing, pre-come dampening the front of my boxer briefs. The winter chill outside contrasted sharply with the suffocating heat building between us in the kitchen.

She reached out slowly, deliberately, and dragged one fingertip along the inside of my knee, then higher, tracing the crease where thigh met hip.

"I've watched you squirm every time I hug you goodbye," Elena murmured, her voice a dangerous purr. "I've seen the way you stare at my breasts when you think I'm not looking. I've felt how your body leans into mine just a second too long." Her nail scraped lightly over the fabric covering my hardness. I jolted, a sharp gasp escaping my lips. "I can tell how much you want me, Lucian. Don't pretend you don't."

Heat flooded my face, coiling lower in my belly. "Elena..." I whispered, the sound desperate against the quiet background of the holiday house.

"Say my name like that again, and I'll make sure you have a mindblowing orgasm."

She hooked two fingers under the waistband of my boxers and tugged them down, exposing me completely to the warm kitchen air. She brought the fabric to her nose, inhaled deeply, and ran her tongue along the damp patch with a slow, deliberate stroke.

Cool air hit my sensitive skin and I whimpered. Elena looked up at me, her gaze clearly hungry. She pushed my legs wider apart, framing me against the edge of the island. "Look at you. So hard already. Dripping for your mother-in-law."

Before I could speak, she ran a finger down my length, catching the slick moisture at the tip and smearing it along the shaft to tease me. Then she wrapped her hand straight around me, and I gasped at the intense warmth of her grip, my back arching completely off the barstool.

Her touch was firm and commanding, the friction immediate and perfect. She stroked upward, her thumb pressure hitting hard against the sensitive underside of the head, while her fingers settled into a slow, tight rhythm.

"Fuck," I breathed, my hands gripping the edge of the counter so hard my knuckles turned white.

"That's it. Let me hear you." She pumped steadily, her wrist flexing, the wet friction of my arousal loud in the quiet kitchen. "You're twitching so much. You greedy boy."

I clutched the edge of the counter, my thighs trembling violently. She tightened her grip, pulling me closer to the edge, and I moaned brokenly into the empty house.

Her other hand reached up, yanking the front of her holiday dress down, freeing her breasts into the warm light. Her nipples were hard, aching and begging to be touched. She took my hand and guided it, pressing my palm against her soft, heavy skin. "That's right. Feel me. Show me how badly you want to take what's yours."

I moved my hand shamelessly over her, my pulse throbbing fiercely, my shaft leaking more pre-come under her tight stroke. The pressure coiled tight, unbearable and electric.

"Come for me, Lucian. Drench my hand."

I lost it a sharp, ragged groan tore out of me as the climax ripped through. My hips bucked forward, pulsing and pulsing, shooting thick ropes over her knuckles and wrist. She kept stroking through it, drawing out every single shudder until I was shaking, whimpering, and completely spent.

She withdrew slowly, her fingers glistening in the soft light of the kitchen. Holding my gaze, she brought them to her mouth and sucked them clean, her tongue curling around each digit like she was savoring a fine winter wine.

"Sweet," she murmured, her eyes dark with satisfaction. "So fucking sweet."

Then she dropped to her knees on the hardwood floor.

My heart slammed against my ribs at the sight of her in front of me. She leaned in, burying her face between my thighs without a single second of hesitation, taking my leaking hardness straight into her warm mouth.

Her tongue was hot, flat, dragging from the base all the way up to the oversensitive tip in one long, filthy lick. I jerked, instinctively trying to pull back from the intensity, but she pinned my hips down with strong, unyielding hands and swirled her tongue around the head again slower this time, savoring every drop.

"Too much" I gasped, my fingers tangling in her hair.

"Too bad."

She sucked me deep into her throat, hard, and hummed against me. The heavy vibration made my eyes roll back. She flicked the tip rapidly with the point of her tongue, then softened the friction into broad, bobbing strokes. Every few seconds she dipped lower, taking all of me, taking me with wet, greedy thrusts.

I was loud. My groans, pants, and half-formed pleas were loud enough for anyone in the vacation house to hear. But thankfully, nobody was home; everyone else was out in the snow, leaving us completely isolated. My hands fisted tightly in her dark hair, holding her securely against me. She growled in approval, the sound vibrating straight through my core.

She sucked with steady, pulsing pressure, her hand reaching up to squeeze my thighs. The combination was devastating. My legs shook uncontrollably around her head. Another orgasm built impossibly fast, sharper and more intense than the first, and I bucked my hips helplessly against her face, riding her mouth.

"Elena fuck I'm gonna"

She moaned around me, her throat clamping down tighter, her tongue relentless. I came a second time with a loud cry, my back arching sharply, toes curling and hips grinding hard against her face as a fresh release flooded her mouth. She swallowed it all, licking me clean through every single aftershock until I was entirely limp, trembling, and barely able to breathe.

Only then did she rise.

Her lips and chin glistened in the dim light. She leaned in and kissed me deeply, slowly, letting me taste my own release on her tongue. When she pulled back, her eyes were heavy-lidded, dark, and thoroughly satisfied.

"You're amazing," she whispered, her thumb brushing gently over my bottom lip. "I'm going to want to do that again."

I could only nod, still completely dazed, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

She stepped back, smoothed her holiday dress down almost tenderly, covering herself back up. Then, she turned to the counter and poured us both another glass of red wine, acting as if she hadn't just completely unraveled me on the kitchen counter while the Christmas lights flickered softly in the background.