Page 17 of Christmas With the Jerk

I nod, my eyes lingering on the train scene. “Yeah. It’s... nice.”

Nice is an understatement. The hotel is elegant, with high ceilings, chandeliers, and holiday decorations on every surface. The lobby’s centerpiece is a massive, intricately decorated Christmas tree that towers over us, ornaments sparkling in the soft glow of the lights. The scent of fresh pine from the tree mixes with the warm cinnamon from the holiday display near the fireplace.

For the first time since this insane trip started, I feel myself relax. Just a little, but it is a marked change.

Woodley turns to me, her eyes twinkling a bit more than usual. “Look at the hot chocolate station and the Christmas craft room. I could totally lose myself in here. Too bad we are here to work.”

I smirk. “A little better than last night’s accommodations, right?”

“Just a bit.”

As we approach the front desk, I feel something between us shift. It’s almost as if the cold barrier erected between us is starting tothaw. Maybe it’s the atmosphere, maybe it’s just exhaustion, but for once, we’re not looking at each other like rivals.

“Welcome to the Grand Meridian,” the receptionist says with a warm smile. “I have you in neighboring rooms on the tenth floor. Both are king-bed rooms. Is that acceptable?”

I glance at Woodley, who shrugs. “Works for me.”

“Same here,” I say, taking the keycards she hands us.

We step into the elevator, and for a moment, there’s a comfortable silence between us. I lean against the wall, watching as the floors tick by. There’s even a warmth in the elevator. It’s amazing what a change in scenery and light at the end of the tunnel can do for the mood. I take a deep breath, happy for the peace that has finally settled over us.

When we reach our floor, Woodley looks at me as the doors open. I had her one of the key cards with the sleeve indicating she will be in room 1015. I look down at the other one, room 1017.

“I think I’m going to take a long, hot shower,” she says with satisfaction. I think she has the right idea.

I chuckle. “Same. I feel like I’ve been on the road for a week. Want to meet up to go through all of this at some point?”

She smiles, and it’s not forced this time. “How about we meet in an hour? Down at the lobby bar? We can grab some real food and go over everything.”

“Sounds like a plan.” I hold up my keycard. “Room next door if you need anything.”

She nods and steps toward her room, the door clicking behind her as I make my way into mine.

Inside, the room is warm, inviting, and a world away from the cold motel room last night. The bed looks like heaven—a king-sized masterpiece with fluffy pillows and a comforter that practically begs to be slept in.

I can still hear the faint murmur of Christmas music from the hall. God, I’m so glad to be here after everything.

I can’t wait for a proper, hot shower. I need to wash off this trip—literally and figuratively—before I head downstairs.

As I step into the bathroom, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, the tension still etched on my face. We’re almost there. One more day, and this pitch will be behind us.

But it’s not just the pitch on my mind anymore.

It’s Woodley, too. And I’m not sure how I feel about that.

Turning on the water, I inhale the sweetness of a nice, modern hotel room. The sound of the shower a siren call for my weary body. I strip away the layers of clothes, each piece a discarded memory of the journey here. I step under the showerhead, letting the water cascade over me.

The heat is a shock to my system, but it's a welcome one. It's like I'm shedding more than just dirt and sweat. I'm washing away the tension, the frustration, the relentless pressure that's been riding me since we left. And with each droplet that runs down my body, I feel a breath of happiness, a sense of relief to have made it here, to this moment of solitude.

As the water pounds against my skin, my mind drifts to the night before with Woodley. It was unexpected, a wildfire of passionthat consumed us both, and now, standing here, the memory of her hot body against mine ignites a flame that refuses to be doused by the spray.

For the first time since I experienced it in the flesh, I close my eyes, the steam enveloping me, I allow myself to relive the moments with her. The way she moved, the noises she made, the feel of her skin—it's all too vivid, too intoxicating to ignore. I reach down, my hand wrapping around my growing erection, and I begin to stroke, each motion fueled by the memory of her touch, her taste.

My breaths come quicker, matching the rhythm of my hand as I let the fantasy take over. I can almost feel her lips on mine, her nails clawing at my back, her legs wrapped tightly around me. My strokes become more fervent, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable crescendo.

I brace one hand against the tiled wall, the other working faster, the water providing the perfect friction as I chase the release I desperately need. And then it hits me, a wave of ecstasy so intense that my knees nearly buckle. I jerk forward, my body shaking as I come, the sensation washing over me like a tidal wave, carrying away the last of the built-up anxiety.

The relief is palpable, a floodgate of tension opening and spilling out of me in hot, pulsating waves. It feels so fucking good to let go, to release not just the physical buildup, but the emotional weight that's been pressing down on me.

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