Page 6 of Sugar Dusted Dad Bod

Not gonna lie: it smells a little musty. I didn’t bother decorating at all last year, not with us working so late and with no one in my life to come over and see the place.

Back aching, I wrestle the box out, trying not to let myself look over at the bed. It’s made, yes, and the sheets are fresh, but it’s better not to let my brain go there. That’s not what this visit is about, no matter how much I wish it was.

Jasper’s done with the netting when I get back into the living room, and he’s positioning the tree the only place it will fit: in the window, to the side of the sofa. Half blocking the bookcase, but hey—at least it hides my mess.

“Wow.” My cheeks ache as I break into a wide grin, carrying the box of decorations over to Jasper. “It looks so good!”

It really does. The tree is big and burly and strong, just like my boss, with bristly green branches and a pine-fresh scent.

Jasper looks satisfied. He folds his arms and inspects the tree from pot to tip, then nods once.

“Right,” my boss says, turning for the door. “I’d better get gone.”

“Wait!” I blurt, nearly tripping over myself as I try to block his way. “Stay for a while longer. I’ll make us drinks and put on carols while we decorate.”

It’s selfish, I know, to keep him here when he’s so tired, but IneedJasper to stay. Need him around, period. His sturdy presence is addictive, and I get so lonely on these dark winter nights.

Jasper gazes at me for a long moment, turmoil behind his blue eyes, before he looks away and nods.

“Okay. I’ll stay.”

“And I’ll make you the biggest, strongest coffee you’ve ever drunk,” I promise, dropping the box on the sofa with a soft thump.

Jasper booms out a laugh. “You’d better.”

* * *

With a few table lamps casting a warm glow through the living room, carols playing softly from the TV, and two giant mugs of coffee, each with a shot of whiskey… we’re good to go. Coats are shucked and slung over the back of my sofa; boots are kicked off by the door. We’re getting comfy.

It’s so nice having Jasper here. He fills the space—not just literally with his bulk, but in other ways too. My apartment seems cozier, lighter, happier. My boss wraps tinsel around hisneck like a feather boa to make me laugh; he lifts me up by the waist so I can put the star on the top of the tree.

Thatis a moment I’ll never forget in all my life.

Jasper’s big hands gripping my sides, so firm yet gentle. The way he lifts me so easily, like I weigh less than a single sack of flour. The heat of his chest against my back as he waits patiently for me to place the star.

It takes me longer than it should, too, because all I can think about is how easily Jasper could turn me around and wrap my thighs around his waist; how he could hold my ass up in one strong hand and fuck me while standing.

By the time my boss sets me back down on the rug, my legs are jelly and there’s a telltale slickness between my thighs.

God, I want him.

“Looking good,” Jasper says, both hands still on my waist as he regards our decked-out tree. The branches drip with baubles and tinsel; it’s not subtle at all, but somehow that’s better. It looks homemade, exuberant, and cozy. Like a tree in someone’s home instead of a shop window.

Obviously, I can’t speak with Jasper’s hands on me. Can barely breathe, it feels so good. Warm and secure and so big and sexy.

“Cady?”

With effort, I unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth. “Uh-huh,” I say. “Looks good. Thanks, Jasper.”

His hands let go, and I can breathe again.

Tree decorated, we both crash onto the sofa to drink our coffees and dig through the other decorations.

“What kinda fucked up demon is this?” Jasper asks, holding up an Elf on the Shelf by one ankle. I shriek and bat it back into the box.

“Don’t let it out! I swear it watches me.”

Jasper shudders, then keeps digging through the leftover stuff. “Well, I’m taking that little creep with me when I go tonight. He’s going face down in a city trash can.”

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