Page 11 of A Stolen Christmas

“Another time,” I said politely, smiling, as I didn't want to offend the man. “I don't want to spoil my appetite for dinner. Welcome to the neighbourhood, goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Sirah,” he murmured, causing the fluttering sensation in the pit of my belly like last time.

Did I tell him my name when we last met, or did Irene say it out loud?

Either way, the way he said my name in the low, husky voice gave me tingles in places that were on lockdown. I turned away from him as a shiver ran down my arms and shoulders, but it had nothing to do with the cold weather. As I put my key into the lock, I tried to remember the first time I met Ryan, and I didn't remember having this kind of reaction.

The house was lovely and warm when I went inside, but I didn't remember putting the heating on or figuring out how to set the timer. I placed my bag on the sideboard and went into the kitchen to put my marinated salmon in the oven and prepare the vegetables.

The truth was I was trying to stay close to spy on my hunky neighbour. The man could fill out a shirt and pants exceptionally well. I caught glimpses of him hanging up various lights and decorations. My heart wasn't in the Christmas spirit this year.

My parents were off to the Canary Islands, and my brother was going to his girlfriend's house for Christmas dinner. The girls had their own holidays planned in Reading, and even though Sonia had invited me, I felt as if I would be intruding, so I had resigned myself to a single divorcee version of Christmas. I may just get drunk and watch the terrible Hallmark movies.

By the time dinner was ready, Saul was packing his toolbox away. I was curious to see what his decorations would look like once he lit them up. I saw the lights switch on, but they went off just as quickly. I couldn't see them properly from the angle of my front windows. I heard him close his door and was disappointed that my man meat show was over.

However, it didn't stop me from flicking my long-forgotten bean that night when I lay awake thinking of Saul. After all the stress from the separation and divorce, it was my secret guilty pleasure to screw my lockdown policy for one night.

∞∞∞

I didn't see Saul until Monday morning when we both left our houses simultaneously. He glanced sideways, and so did I when I noticed he had hung some mistletoe between our houses. He saw me staring at it, and I blushed, considering the violating things I had thought about on Friday night.

“A man can dream,” he said before he locked his door. “Do you catch the Tube or a bus to work?”

“The Tube,” I said quickly, looking down at my door, focusing on locking it and not thinking about kissing him across our balconies.

“Would you mind if we walked together?” he asked when I turned towards him.

“Uh, sure,” I said as I walked across to the stairs.

“Great,” he beamed, and he did the same to climb down his stairs.

He wore a tailored suit with a dark coat over it, but it did nothing to hide his build. The underground tube would be busy in the morning, and the likelihood of getting a seat was slim to none. I hesitated because he held his arm out for me when I reached him. When I glanced up at him, he had a soft smile on his face. I slowly slipped my arm into his, and he instantly tightened his arm around mine.

“I don't bite—unless you want me to,” he whispered as he began walking toward the tube station.

My eyes widened in shock at his words, but as we walked, I could do nothing but envision him biting me.

Chapter 8

Saul

My chest puffed out in pride, walking through our street with Sirah by my side. I had spied on her all weekend, but Friday night was my favourite. Not only was she wearing my cum on her body and hair, but she came long and hard in her bed.

When I heard her soft gasps of pleasure, I followed suit, cursing the wall between us. Our bedrooms were on the ground floor, and one wall separated us. I was so close to my goal that it was driving me crazy. The long game I played was paying off.

“Where is your office?” she asked when we approached the station.

I glanced down at her. She wore a dark brown coat, and only her camel-coloured skirt and shoes were showing. Her heels gave her a few inches, but she was still much shorter than me. I could tuck her under my arm if I thought I could get away with it.

“In the city. What about you?”

“The same,” she said with a smile. “What a coincidence.”

My brain buzzed with a million responses, but I smiled politely and nodded. I might need to reconsider coming to work with her because being this close to her was a temptation. She needed to be ensnared and coaxed into a cage like a little flight-risk bird.

I released her arm as we approached the barriers. I didn't travel by public transport often and rarely during peak times. Sirah pulled her gloves off, and she had a deep wine colour of nail polish on her fingernails.

This was new, I’d never been turned on by nails before, but when I envisioned them wrapped around my cock I moved my coat over my dick. I reached into my pocket, swiped my card and followed Sirah. My eyes moved up her legs, and all I could do was think about fucking her.

---