Page 19 of Naughty Santa

She ground against him a little and he groaned.

Then she felt him rummaging around, but she didn’t bother to turn around, too intent on rubbing her ass against him, so ready to take this to the next level.

“Fuck. No condom,” he admitted, his voice a little ragged.

“Oh.” Dammit. She didn’t have one either. Who would have thought she needed to pack condoms for her trip to Indiana. She was using the shot for birth control, but they should use a condom. Seriously. They barely knew one another. That was the smart thing to do.

Sometimes Paris really hated being smart.

“Does—”

His hand slid into the front of her jeans, cupping her through her dark purple silk panties with his big, hot hand.

“You’re wet.”

She really was. So much so, it probably should have been embarrassing. But she really didn’t care about anything but him moving his fingers about an inch to the left.

“Please, Joe.”

He slipped his finger under the elastic edge of her panties and against her clit.

It was like the guy had GPS helping him find just the spot. Not only had he located it, he pressed against it like it was what he had been born to do.

“Please tell me that someplace in this town sells condoms,” Paris said breathlessly.

He laughed against her ear, a deep, rumbling sound. “Yeah. We’ll be able to find condoms, Paris. Lots of them.”

“Oh, thank?—”

Then he slid his finger deep. His big, thick finger. Very deep. Her knees went a little weak. She gripped the counter and gave a moan that made him groan in response. He tipped her head back, settling his hand against the base of her throat in a surprisingly hot gesture, and kissed her. He stroked his tongueinto her mouth in unison with his finger as it pumped in and out of her pussy. Then he added a second finger, and his thumb found her clit.

That was it. She was done for. Everything deep clenched hard, and she came fast, clamping onto his fingers, and gasping his name into his mouth as he continued to kiss her.

“God, that’s so fucking hot,” he told her gruffly when their lips parted.

It really, really was.

Paris slumped back against him, and he held her with an arm around her ribs until she caught her breath. Then he pulled his hand out of her pants.

She braced her hands on the counter again, as she felt his hands on her hips and his lips on the back of her neck. That was a very sweet gesture, especially considering what he’d just done to her. Which, while maybe not sweet, had been very nice.

Joe was definitely a nice guy.

She took a deep breath and pulled her shirt together as she turned in his arms. Paris smiled up at him. “I?—”

Suddenly there was a thumping out in the foyer, followed by a hiss, a screech, a bark, and what sounded like nails on wood. Specifically, doggie toenails on a hardwood floor.

Louis came skidding into the kitchen, and right on his heels was Roscoe. Looking very pissed off.

“Oh my God!” Paris literally pushed Joe back and scooted around him, sweeping Louis up just as Roscoe got to him and took a swipe. Louis whined, and she frowned down at the cat. “What the hell?”

Joe moved to pick the cat up. The thing hissed at him, but Joe looked unimpressed. “I think he misses Lydia. He wasn’t like this before.”

“Aw.” That melted her heart. “The poor thing.”

Louis seemed to sense that her sympathies had switched because he whimpered and licked her chin. “Oh, yes, you’re a poor thing too,” she assured him. “But Roscoe is lonely.” Paris looked at the cat again. The animal looked like he wanted to scratch her eyes out. She wasn’t a cat person, but Roscoe had lost his person. He was alone now. He had to be scared and sad.

She could become a cat person.

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