Page 34 of The Naughty Elf

She’s so warm against me, and I can’t seem to release her now that I’ve gotten my arms around her. I steal another kiss. Its soft touch lingers, rebuilding that tension that started the second she stepped into my office a month ago.

I should really let go of her.

But I keep her close, rubbing a hank of her red hair between my fingers. “I don’t want things to be weird. Awkward.”

“Given what’s happening in your pants right now, I have a feeling we won’t be able to avoid awkwardness as much as you think we will.” When she reaches down to cup my growing hard-on, I have to bite back a groan.

Desire has my cock raging now. If we were alone, I’d spread her across her desk and feast on her. Fuck, it’s one of the only things I’ve been able to think about over the course of the entire weekend.

“I can behave myself.” The gravel in my voice doesn’t help sell that point. Let’s be honest—I’ve been replaying Friday night over and over again, intermixed with newer scenarios, like her riding me in my office chair.

I almost grabbed a handful of myself this morning because the daydreams wouldn’t release me. Now that I have the chance, my hand reaches down to fill itself with her ass. I’ve been itching to touch her all morning. And I’m so fucking greedy for her.

The move tips her against me, smashing her breasts against my chest. I sink my other hand back in her hair and tease us both with the tension a mere inch of distance can create.

Ginger’s breath grows uneven, her fingers curling into my shoulders before she pops up to nab my bottom lip between her teeth.

My cock twitches in my pants as I grind my hips into hers.

Then her mouth drops to seal under my jaw by my ear. Every coherent thought vaporizes.

“Fuck,” I breathe out.

She’s being careful not to leave a mark, kissing and sucking gently. Her teeth are grazing instead of biting. But I want her to mark me. I want all of it when it comes to her.

My fingers tighten in her hair as her teeth scrape down my throat and pinch the sensitive curve of my neck. It pulls a low moan out of me. I’m two seconds away from planting her ass on her desk and burying myself between her thighs.

“It’s too bad you’re wearing a tie…” Ginger whispers against my damp skin. She toys with the knotted fabric. “I can’t reach that spot you really like.”

I suck in a slow breath. “You are so fucking tempting.”

She laughs softly and plants another few kisses on my skin. “Am I?”

I have to stop kneading her ass, stop rocking her against the steel rod in my slacks. A flash of light from a passing vehicle shines through the window and zaps some sense back into me, and I slide my palm up to her back again.

Leaning her back enough to look at her, I graze my thumb along her jaw. God, she’s beautiful. Her mouth is swollen from my mouth, from kissing the stubble along my throat. Her eyes are sparkling with desire and mischief. Ginger spreads her hands over my chest, smoothing out my tie.

“What are your plans for Christmas?” I ask, even though we’ve had this discussion more than once. She spends Christmas Eve with Gracie and her parents, and the day after Christmas morning lounging around and eating leftovers.

“You already know my plans.” Her voice is soft and sultry, caressing me in more intimate places than her hands can reach.

“What about the day after?” I get Emily on Christmas Eve, and we go to her mom’s for Christmas breakfast. But the rest of the day, I can already see myself sitting on the couch, pining over Ginger.

“That depends. Why?” Her fingers slip between the buttons of my shirt to touch my skin. It sends a shock all the way down to my toes.

“What if I want to see you?” My touch slides down her throat now as I slowly force myself to tuck away all the things I’m craving for later.

Ginger hums, drawing another little circle over my overheated skin. “I guess you’ll have to ask me when you decide that you do.”

Footsteps stomp up the stairs, and Ginger stiffens in my arms before she pulls away completely. It’s insane how much I miss her when she’s only a few feet away.

16

GINGER

Christmas morning is a blast. Gracie opens her pile of presents, which is only slightly bigger than the pile she got last night at her grandparents’ house.

I’m lounging on my couch as Gracie tries out her new pastel set on the dining room table. Her art closet is going to be overflowing once we try to pack everything away at the end of Christmas break. Until then, though, my daughter has free rein to spread out in the living room and kitchen table. At least until it’s time to sit down and eat like a proper family.

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