Page 25 of A Grinchmas Delight

I smile down at her. “Okay.”

She rummages through her small purse and unlocks the door. She and Maia disappear inside and I wait outside. I look around at the house in front of me. It’s small and quaint. The yellow is old and faded and there are hedge bushes on either side of the small concrete steps leading to the front door.

The front door opens and a drunken Dayra walks out with an oversized bag over her shoulder. I consider giving her shit about herspend-a-nightbag but think better of it. She’s just drunk enough to tell me to go fuck myself and there are parts of her that I would sell part of my soul to see, let alone touch.

I offer her my hand and she hops up into the passenger seat of my truck. I close the door and walk around to the driver’s seat with my dick hard despite the cold temperature outside.

I swear this woman could make me hard even if I were standing in the middle of an ice storm wearing nothing but my socks. Something about her does it for me. Everything. Sheirritates me. She bothers me. She gets under my skin like no one else can. And she makes me absolutely crazy for her.

“Did you get my email today?” I ask as I head in the direction of my house.

“Mmhmm,” she hums.

“And? Are you applying?” I pry.

She shrugs and leans over the center console. “I think… we should talk about something other than work,” she says, trailing her fingertips down my chest in a beeline for the buckle of my slacks.

I hiss when she strokes me through the thin material. I press my foot down on the gas pedal. I need her now.

“Fuck,” I groan as she glides her hand over my shaft again.

I whip into my driveway and grab her by the nape of her neck, pulling her lips to mine. She tastes like alcohol and bad decisions.

“Out. Now.” I grit, pulling way from her. I open my door and grab her hand as she slides out of the truck. I open the front door with her in tow.

My heavy front door slams behind us. My body is buzzing, drunk on lust as I stare at Dayra. Standing in my kitchen, looking so goddamn beautiful.

She steps closer until our bodies are flush against one another. The room is quiet. The air is thick around us. My heart hammering in my chest is all I can hear in the deafening silence. I run my fingers across her collarbone, beneath her green cardigan. I slowly press it off her shoulders and down her arms, revealing her bare skin.

She drops her arms and it falls to the floor. I grip the tucked-in white shirt she’s donning and tug it over her head. This is the most of her I’ve seen without clothes and the more I see, the more I am desperate to have her.

Her pale skin is dotted with freckles sporadically. A whole world of constellations on her body that I want to memorize and search for every night.

Dayra’s arms instinctively cover her stomach, trying to shroud her body from my prying eyes.

“No ma’am. Let me see all of you. All of this perfect body you carry around underneath those clothes everyday.”

Her eyes meet mine, a question lingering somewhere in them that never leaves her mind. She drops her arms, looking up at me through half-lidded eyes.

She slips her hands inside my suit jacket, pushing it over my shoulders. I take it off and toss it on the island in the kitchen and begin unbuttoning my shirt. Dayra again runs her hand over my chest and pushes it off my shoulders.

Her fingernails scrape the skin of my peck and this dance we’re doing is tantalizing.

“I’ll never get over the fact that you have all of these tattoos. I can’t believe I never knew. No one knows. You just walk around all day having these beautiful pieces of art covering your skin and no one knows.”

“These tattoos, they’re so much a part of me. Each one a piece of me bared to whoever sees it on my skin. My body is my own private journal. It isn’t for everyone.”

Her hands roam over my chest, skimming down to the buckle of my belt. I undo it and she pops the button on my slacks free. She pushes them down, revealing a pair of boxers beneath. I step out of them, leaving them in a pile on the kitchen floor. I can’t bear to be this far away from her any longer. I pick her up, her legs wrapping around my waist. Her hands are tangled in my hair as her tongue tangles with mine. I walk us to my bedroom, pushing the door open with my foot.

Inside my bedroom is a small tree on the nightstand that I setup just for Dayra illuminating the room. The white lights givethe room a warm feel. After I left the office, I came home and decorated this tiny tree, in the hopes that I could get her to see it and what do you know? The bartender had Johnny text me about Dayra needing rescuing and who am I to leave a damsel in distress?

“Oh my God,” she gasps, spotting the tree. She stares at it then back at me, then back at the tree, putting her feet down on the floor.

“Tell me that the Grinch secretly loves Christmas?” she asks.

I smile at her. “The Grinch does not. But he is pretty fond of a girl who does.”

Her smile fades a bit, but she tries to mask it.

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