Page 9 of Christmas Kiss

“You sound like you’re in pain.”

“Not right now, I’m not.” She moans as she rolls her neck down and says, “You’re really good with your hands. That, or the hormones are worse than I thought they were.”

“Hormones?”

“Yeah. These pregnancy hormones are the worst. One second, I’m crying over literal spilled milk, and three minutes later, I’m hornier than a jack rabbit in spring. It’sthatbad.”

What the fuck is happening, and why do I like it?Why do I want to keep the conversation going? Why do I want her to tell me all the filthy ways she’s pleased herself?

“That’s gotta be difficult,” I groan, “especially without a partner to take the edge off.”

Fuck, I just don’t quit.

She rolls her neck to the side and moans again, this time softer. “You have no idea.”

My hand slides onto her shoulder blade and my thumb rolls down over her neck, working the small muscles that have knotted against the base of her scalp. Maybe if I keep moving, keep touching her, keep breathing her in, I can bank it all to think about when I’m alone later.

That’s the plan, but while I work, her silky soft hair gets tangled in my fingers and only invigorates whatever cinnamon scent is on her.

Fuck. My cock is rock hard, and my throat is dry, desperate to lick her up.

“So, how do you… take care of yourself?”

What the fuck is wrong with me?

She stays still for a moment, then looks up toward the ceiling, hesitating as though she isn’t sure how to answer the question.

I don’t blame her. It’s a stupid fucking question I shouldn’t have asked.

I’ve fucked this up. I should’ve stayed classy. Instead, I let my fucking cock get in the way, and now I’m pretty sure I’m sexually harassing an employee.

“Oh, well… I flip to some fantasy of a big, strong man with his hands all over me, and I rub one out. Well, my vibrator does the heavy lifting. I lay back and let it all happen. Honestly, I don’t know what women did before vibrators.” She clears her throat. “I’ve never met a man that can satisfy me, and doing it manually isn’t nearly as good.”

“What do you mean you’ve never met a man who can satisfy you?”

She turns back and stands, staring toward me with dark red cheeks. “I mean exactly what I said. I’ve never met a man who could satisfy me.”

“So, no orgasms…ever?”

She bites back a grin. “Not with a guy.”

Damn.I swallow hard and stare blankly ahead, trying to ignore the way her lips have parted, the sight of her chest as it rises and falls, the hardness of her nipples as they pebble beneath her shirt.

Suddenly, I want to know how many men she’s been with. Who’s touched her? Who’s laid next to her? Whoever they are, I want to murder them, then lay her back and show her exactly what pleasure feels like. I want her grinding against my beard, bouncing on my cock, creaming all over me.

“Anyway,” she sighs, “that feels too good, and all this talk has me hot and bothered, so I better get out of here and let you get back to work.” She pulls her sweater back up onto her shoulders, and though I know she wants to walk away, I smell her arousal.

I should let her leave. A good man would. He’d nod politely, and she’d leave the room, go about her business, and everything would return to normal. I’d fix the windows and work on the flooring. Then, we’d go to the wedding tomorrow, I’d play my part, and no one would be the wiser.

Instead, I reach for her arm, pull her into my orbit, stare down into her dark brown eyes, and say something more aggressive than anything I’ve ever said to anyone. “Lay back and let me take the ache away.”

For what feels like an eternity, she stares up at me and I wonder if there’s a smack coming to the side of my face. Lord knows I deserve it. I’m taking liberties I shouldn’t.

Her gaze lifts to mine and her lip’s part. “Confident one, aren’t you?”

“You don’t have to, but… if you do, I promise you won’t regret it.”

“What happens afterwards? Do we walk away like nothing happened? I’m not good at that. My face tells everything I’m thinking.”

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