Page 16 of Santa's Pretty Helper

Does Gabe?

I grab a peppermint brownie off the counter, taking a big bite. The sweet, chocolatey flavor soothes me, and as I chew, I try to get my swirling thoughts under control. Thoughts about my impossible feelings for Gabe, thoughts about seeing Gabe’s cam show, thoughts about Gabe’s hands on me, thoughts about Eric’s interruption and if he’ll ever see me as an adult.

I polish off the brownie and lick a smear of chocolate from my thumb just as Gabe steps into the kitchen. Our eyes meet and suddenly the air feels charged, like before a lightning strike. My heart pounds wildly in my chest as we stare at each other. I swear his blue eyes darken.

“Bella,” he says, his voice low and husky. My stomach does a slow swirl, and I curl my fingers into the counter behind me.

“Gabe,” I manage to answer, my voice barely more than a whisper. I feel raw today. Undone. My cheeks go hot as he takes a step closer. The kitchen island is between us, but I can feel the heat of his gaze as if he’s only inches away.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry if I crossed a line back there,” he says, tilting his head slightly, studying me. His concern is genuine, but there’s also something else in his eyes. An intensity that makes butterflies flutter crazily in my stomach.

I nod. “I’m fine, and you were fine. Just…I don’t know. Needed a moment.”

He leans forward, hands splayed over the top of the island. “Eric can be a bit much sometimes,” he says, and a small laugh escapes me.

“Yeah, he can. He means well, but…” I bite my lip and shrug. “Sometimes I think he’ll forever see me as twelve years old.”

“I know. That must be frustrating for you.” His gaze drops to my mouth and then I swear it drops to my breasts for half a second before returning to my face. “You’re not a kid anymore. Not by a long shot.”

“I’m not,” I say. “I’m young, but Iaman adult.”

“Oh, I know, Bella. I’mveryaware.”

Our eyes meet again, and the tension is like a live wire, pulsing with dangerous electricity. But then a few party guests wander into the kitchen and the moment is over.

With a small smile, I push off the counter and return to the living room, feeling Gabe’s eyes on my back the entire time.

Ten

Gabe

I hopped online and started streaming the moment I got home. I wasn’t planning to cam tonight, but after being around Bella all day, after smelling her and touching her and listening to her laugh, I’m wound up to the point of feeling like I’m about to lose my mind.

Now, I’m in front of the camera, shirtless, zipper of my pants undone while I rub a hand across my bulge. I ache from being half-hard all afternoon, and I need this release like I need my next breath.

God, Bella. I groan as I palm myself. She looked so fucking pretty today. So fucking sweet and beautiful. The look on her face when I gave her that book, the way she blushed when she said thank you…I could’ve come in my fucking pants.

And then when I helped her put that ornament on the tree…I didn’t want to let her go. It was physically painful to take my hands off of her.

Because she should be mine. Mine to take care of. Mine to feed. Mine to love. Mine to fuck.

Mine, goddammit.

I lean back in my chair, my bare chest filling the screen. I can see users flooding the chat, excited and eager that I’ve logged on for an impromptu show. I rub a hand across my jaw, smirking as I fall into my cam persona.

“I wasn’t planning to come on tonight,” I say, and I can hear how aroused I am. My voice is low and coated in gravel. “But…” I pause, letting out a long breath that does nothing to dispel the tension in my muscles. “Let’s just say, I had a day.”

The chat blows up, questions pouring in. I chuckle, shaking my head.

“Nah, not gonna share any personal details on here. Just…someone’s been on my mind. A lot. Someone I can’t have.” I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees, peering into the camera. “You know how that is, right? When you want someone so bad, it’s like a fucking fever?” I sigh. “You can’t think straight. You can’t focus. Everything reminds you of them.” I run a hand through my hair, tugging slightly on the roots. “Fucking torture.”

Supportive, commiserating comments fill the chat. I lean back in my chair again, my hands moving to my belt. “But you know what? Fuck it. If I can’t have her, at least I can pretend. At least I can imagine what it would be like to…” I lick my lips, shaking my head.

I unbuckle my belt slowly, putting on a show. The belt buckle clanks softly, and I glance at the camera again.

“So that’s what we’re going to do tonight. We’re going to imagine. We’re going to fucking fantasize.”

I lower the zipper of my jeans, my bulge visible through my boxer briefs. I’m so fucking hard already. I stroke myself over my boxer briefs, letting my eyes fall closed. I can’t stop myself from imagining that it’s Bella’s hand, her slender fingers wrapping around me and stroking. Owning me. I groan, the image almost too much to handle.

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