Christmas with My Ex’s Dad: An Age Gap Holiday Romance (Forbidden Silver Foxes)
Christmas with My Ex’s Dad: Chapter 11

It’s time to face him again.

I take a deep breath and walk back into the kitchen. Griffin stands there, wiping down the counters with a rag, his silver hair glistening under the dim light. The tension between us hangs in the air, suffocating.

“We need to talk,” I announce, my voice steadier than I feel. I cross my arms to brace myself, but there’s no escaping the heat that floods my cheeks or the moist warmth that pools between my trembling thighs. I can feel my nipples harden beneath the flimsy fabric of my dress, straining against the constraints of my bra.

Griffin sets the rag down, leaning casually against the counter with his arms folded across his broad chest. A flicker of amusement crosses his face, and his eyes lock onto mine with a calm intensity that sets my heart racing even faster. “About what?” he asks, his voice low and direct.

“You know what,” I retort, my voice wavering despite my best efforts to sound confident. The memory of his touch during dinner still lingers on my skin, a ghostly reminder of the forbidden pleasure that he offered me. My mind reels with conflicting emotions – I know I should be outraged, offended even, but all I can think about is how much I crave more of his wicked touch.

“Did you like it?” he asks, his voice low and carnal, like a predator stalking its prey. His eyes bore into mine, searching for the truth that I can’t help but conceal.

I struggle to find a response, my cheeks burning hotter than ever under his probing gaze. The truth is no man had ever touched me like that before, and the memory of it still makes my heart race and my breath hitch in my throat. Is this what I really want? Do I want to give in to the forbidden allure that is Griffin Taylor?

Yes.

“Cat got your tongue?” Griffin presses. My body tenses as Griffin’s footsteps echo closer, the teasing lilt in his voice making my heart race. “You didn’t stop me, Faye. So, I’ll ask again—did you like it?”

I bite my lip, averting my gaze and feeling the weight of his stare upon me. My pulse quickens, my thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and desire. What am I supposed to say? The truth. With a slow, hesitant nod, I admit the truth.

Griffin’s smirk grows, and he steps even closer, our bodies nearly touching. His voice, now barely more than a whisper, sends shivers down my spine. “Did you like what you saw earlier? In my room?”

My face turns scarlet at the memory, the image of him masturbating flashes in my mind. My teeth sink into my bottom lip as I struggle to form a response, my breaths coming in shallow gasps.

“Come on, Faye,” Griffin urges, his fingers lightly brushing against my arm, sending a jolt of electricity through me. “Tell me how you felt.”

My thoughts race, a mix of longing and uncertainty swirling within me. This is wrong. But as I search for the words to deny him, my traitorous body betrays my inner turmoil, a soft moan escaping my lips.

His eyes narrow, his expression a mixture of triumph and curiosity. “That’s what I thought,” he murmurs, tracing a finger along my collarbone, making my skin tingle with anticipation.

“I want you, Faye. And I know you want me too,” he murmurs, his voice husky and low.

I shake my head, desperate to deny the truth that pulses through my veins. “This… this can’t happen.”

Griffin tilts his head, a wicked grin playing on his lips, and his hand trails lightly up my thigh again. “Why not? We’re two single adults. No one’s getting hurt.”

The warmth of Griffin’s breath on my ear sends shivers down my spine, making my nipples harden even further beneath the thin fabric of my dress. His body presses against mine, his muscular form a welcome contrast to my own soft curves.

To hell with reason – I want him, and I want him now.

Griffin’s hand trails slowly up my thigh, his fingers tracing a path of fire along my sensitive flesh. His touch ignites a flame within me, a fierce longing that threatens to consume me whole. My breath comes in shallow gasps, my pulse quickening with each tender brush of his fingertips against my skin.

I can feel the dampness between my thighs growing, a slick reminder of my own arousal. “Griffin,” I moan, my voice barely audible even to my own ears. I tilt my head back, exposing my throat to him. In that moment, I am his, body and soul.

Griffin takes full advantage of my submission, his lips trailing down my neck with a hunger that matches my own. His teeth sink gently into the sensitive flesh at the base of my throat, making me gasp with pleasure and pain. I can feel his erection pressing against me, hard and insistent, demanding entry inside of me.

My hands find their way to his chest, my fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt as if possessed by a mind of their own. I need to feel his skin against mine, to know that this is truly happening and not just some wild fantasy conjured up by my overactive imagination.

With a growl of frustration, Griffin grabs my wrists, pulling my hands away from his chest and holding them captive above my head. His eyes burn with a fierce desire that takes my breath away, leaving me panting and gasping like a fish out of water.

Griffin’s lips find mine again, his kiss deep and carnal like a drugging potion that leaves me dizzy and weak-kneed. My breath comes in ragged gasps as I strain against his grip, desperate for more of his intoxicating touch.

His free hand roams freely over my body, caressing and kneading my soft flesh with a skill that speaks of years of experience. His fingers find the zipper at the back of my dress, tugging it down slowly like a man unwrapping a precious gift. The fabric falls away from my body like a discarded cloak, leaving me standing before him in nothing but my bra and panties.

Griffin’s eyes rake over my half-naked form with a hunger that leaves me breathless and trembling.

His fingers find the clasp of my bra, releasing it with a flick of his wrist that sends the fabric fluttering to the ground like a fallen angel. My breasts spill free, their nipples hard and sensitive like tiny pearls begging for his touch.

Griffin doesn’t disappoint, his hands cupping my breasts with a gentleness that belies his strength. His thumbs brush against my nipples, sending jolts of pleasure straight to my core. I moan aloud, my hips bucking involuntarily against him in a silent plea for more.

His hands roam lower, tracing the curve of my waist before settling on the waistband of my panties. His fingers hook into the fabric, tugging them down slowly as if savoring every inch of bare flesh that is revealed. I step out of them willingly, leaving myself completely exposed to his gaze like a wanton hussy begging for his touch.

His fingers find my entrance, slick with the moisture of my own arousal. He teases me gently at first, his touch light and tentative like a man testing the waters before diving in headfirst. I moan aloud, my hips bucking against his hand in a silent plea for more.

He obliges, his fingers sliding inside me with ease, filling me up in a way that leaves me gasping for breath. His thumb finds my clit, rubbing slow circles that send waves of pleasure crashing over me like a tidal wave. I can feel myself spiraling towards the edge, ready to tumble headfirst into the abyss of ecstasy.

His thrusts grow faster and harder, matching the rhythm of my own panting breaths. My body tenses as I teeter on the edge of release, my muscles tensing and quivering with anticipation. With one final thrust, I tip over the edge, my orgasm crashing over me like a tsunami that leaves me breathless and trembling in its wake.

Griffin’s lips find mine again, his kiss deep and passionate like a man savoring a rare vintage wine. His fingers slip from inside me, leaving me feeling suddenly empty and alone. I cling to him desperately, unwilling to let him go even for a moment.

“Please,” I beg, desperate to feel him inside of me.

But Griffin has other ideas, pulling away from me with a regretful sigh that speaks volumes. “Not yet, Faye,” he murmurs, his voice low and commanding like a general addressing his troops. “We have all the time in the world.”

I know that he’s right – we do have all the time in the world, and I want to savor every single moment of this illicit encounter. But right now, all I can think about is how much I crave more of his wicked touch, how much I need him to fill me up and send me tumbling headfirst into the abyss of ecstasy once more.

But for now, I must be patient – and wait for all of the things he wants to do to my body.