Page 49 of The Naughty Elf

When he starts to slow, my lone thought is to take him with me.

My nails find purchase in his ass. I grind against him, egging him on until he’s slamming himself into me, pounding every sensitive inch of my pussy. I’m so fucking wet, and my thighs are shaking, but I don’t let go of him until I feel his frenzied cadence of his hips.

Yes, I want to feel him pulse and empty himself inside of me. And when he does, the pained look in his features is sweet. His jaw clenches against a gravely noise as his overheated body sinks into mine.

My soft moan has him planting small kisses against my shoulder and throat. I angle up for a kiss, and the one he lays on me is like I’m being worshiped.

After a minute, Sawyer gestures for me to stay where I am and saunters to my bathroom, bringing back a wet washcloth to clean me up with.

His body is a masterpiece, and I can’t help but watch how every muscle moves until he’s pressed naked into my side.

Curling up with him is as blissful as the orgasms. Lazily stroking every part of him I can reach, I sink into a dreamy place between awake and asleep. Until Sawyer sighs and slides out of my bed.

I reach for him, and he brings my hand up to his mouth, kissing my palm and wrist tenderly. “One more?”

His laugh is as bright as it is silent. He bends down to kiss me. “You need some rest, too.”

I flop back in defeat as he dresses, watching until the last moment, when I spring up and wrap myself in a robe to walk him to the door.

I wish he could spend the night, but that would prompt too many questions that I’m not ready to answer. Ones he doesn’t seem ready to field either. But when he kisses me goodbye, I don’t have any question about whether he would stay if I really tried to convince him.

My toes curl, and I’m out of my depth by the time he retreats.

God, that man knocks my socks clean off.

21

ASHLEY

Irun a hand through my hair as I pace around the new interior of lot sixteen. After the long break, I’m more antsy than ever to get back to work.

Ginger has been ignoring me, other than to respond with aMerry Christmaswhen I wished her a happy holiday. And that’s only because she’s polite. I don’t even mind the glares she keeps giving me, as long as she engages with me, but she’s barely glanced at me since I spouted off something stupid to her.

I just—I just didn’t anticipate how deeply those monstrous green claws would dig in when the guys asked her to marry them. Even though I knew they weren’t even halfway serious.

And it’s been a real shitty few weeks.

I can feel the shift when she walks down from the office. She must be bringing us all something that won’t keep as well in the fridge. Otherwise, she waits for lunch to visit. To beless distractingis what she always says.

Rubbing my chest, I wish I could take it back, but I’d been the one dumb enough to say it. Out loud. To her. In front of everyone.

I am such an asshole.

I grit my teeth at the way she flirts and smiles with everyone, and the genuine joy on their faces as they taste what she brought them.

God, I miss the way she slapped my chest when I teased her.

When she saunters up to me, my chest tightens. There’s only the electrician up here besides me right now, and I don’t want her to pass me by. So, I lie in wait upstairs.

It’s probably stupid, but I need to say what’s been running through my brain for the last week after I stopped trying to convince myself the whole thing wasn’t as bad as it really was.

I don’t want to be that guy.

Tracking her potential movements with bated breath, I brace when I know she’s near. I’m leaning against the master bathroom doorjamb, completely aware of how conspicuous I look.

Ginger steps into the master bedroom and turns to face me with the box of food in her hands. Her eyes go dark as they meet mine, and the fact that she’s still this angry with me makes my heart lift a little.

She wouldn’t be mad if she didn’t like me. Right?

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