Page 28 of My Secret Santa Dallas

He slid me over his shoulder and dropped me on my feet; I was disoriented as he backed me up against a wall, eyes searing. “Picture, now.”

“Nope.” I shoved the picture down my shirt. “You’re not getting it.”

His gaze turned predatory. “You think that will stop me from getting it?”

“Yes.”

“How much do you like this shirt?” he asked.

What?! My brow knitted in two. “It’s quite comfortable. Why?”

He let the sound of the cloth ripping in two serve as his reply.

“Dallas!” I yelped, both hands flying to my bra. “That was expensive and?—”

“I’ll buy you another. On second thought, no, I won’t.” His voice thickened, his gaze drawn to the peekaboo cutouts on my black lacy bra, basically see-through, dainty, alluring, and sexy.

The folded picture was tucked in the center gore of both cups, sticking up as if saying hello, pick me, pick me. Dallas plucked the photo up, unfolded it, gazed at it, and then ripped it to shreds.

“There,” he said. “No blackmail material for you.”

“You know Mr. Garrison has the original,” I said, with my chin up. “What’s to say a couple hundred wouldn’t persuade him to give me a copy or five?”

His elbows met both sides of my head, and he leaned in close enough for me to go cross-eyed. “He wouldn’t do that to me.”

“A couple thousand then and an aggressive ad campaign that would get people from Nebraska coming to his shop,” I said.

Dallas’ eyes dropped to my lips. “You’ve got a smart mouth.”

“And I know how to use it, too,” I replied, feeling the air change to something simmering and sultry.

I kissed him.

It’s the wrong thing to do for about a thousand and ten reasons, and I know I will regret this later, but he kissed me back hard. Our bodies crushed together, his hand on my hip, his mouth opening, the kiss deepening.

His tongue searched my mouth like he’d been looking for buried treasure. The fingers of my other hand were speared through his hair, gripping the thick strands, his body firm against mine as his hand moved from my hips to behind me, kneading my spine.

Peeling my mouth away, I whispered, “This a bad idea.”

“I’ve had a couple of bad ideas in my life,” he said, eyes roaming over me. “Some of them turn out pretty good.”

Our lips crashed again, the kiss no less harsh than before. Dallas slid one hand up between us, teasing at my breast, and my body reacted. The nerves on my skin seemed to go into hyperdrive as I ran my hand over his torso and down under his shirt, his hot muscles flexing against my palm.

“And this one?” I asked.

“We’ll shotgun it,” he said, popping the front clasp of my bra, hiking me up the wall, and sealing his lips over my pebbled nipple.

“Fuck,” I gasped as he pinched the other one, rolling it between his fingers as my head went back against the door, my eyes shut.

His chuckle was nothing but devilish as he pulled off from my skin, kissed up my neck, and suckled under my ear. “Not yet, smart mouth. You said you know how to use your mouth. Prove it.”

As he dropped me to the floor, he shifted his hips, pressing me harder against the door, the thick ridge of his cock pressing into my thigh, even though there were fourlayers of fabric between us. The feel of his arousal, the feel of him, sent a thrill of pleasure through my body.

I slid my hand along his thick length. I knew I’m already wet for him and getting wetter by the second. “If you want my mouth, at least say please.”

He chuckled. “That is not how it works. What I say goes.”

I cupped his cock— hard, tilted my head and whispered. “Say, please.”

---