Page 66 of Sinning for Santa

“You say stop, but your body says please don’t stop.”

Dammit. Why am I like this?

“Do you know how easy it would be for me to slip your dress up, Jaxcen? How easy it would be for me to slide my cock into your tight pussy?”

“Stop being crude,” I pant, hating the way my voice gives me away.

“Why would I stop when you enjoy it so much?” His lips press to my cheek then, the kiss gentle yet his gaze still hard in the mirror. “You’re such a dirty girl, Jaxcen. So dirty and filthy and it’s fucking beautiful.”

Tears pool in my eyes.

Not from fear, or because I’m hurt. But because of how much I’ve yearned for someone to see me. The real me. And not be disgusted.

Why did it have to be this monster?

Because monsters know each other, Jaxcen. Monsters belong together.

“I’m not a monster,” I whisper, shaking my head.

“I never said you were.”

His voice startles me, and I realise I’d sunken into my torment so far that I must have spoken the words aloud.

We stare at each other for a long beat in the mirror, and I know the moment he feels me relax, because he does too.

“I want to make you feel so fucking good that you forget your own name, little mouse. But I can’t do that here.” He gestures hishead to the old couple at the end of the bar, and the crazy haze that had swept over me lifts as my embarrassment sinks in.

Oh my… I threatened people with a knife. I tried to stab Devon.

“Shit. I’m sorry,” I whisper, and he smirks.

“Sorry for trying to stab me or for wanting me to fuck you right here in the bar with an audience?”

My cheeks heat at the idea of people watching. Of the roles being reversed and instead of watching, I’d be the one being watched.

I need my head checked.

“Let’s take this upstairs.”

Devon suggests, stepping away from me, and hell, why do I miss his nearness?

“No,” I protest quietly, eyeing the couple at the end of the bar that are staring into their drinks still. What is with them?

“No?”

I glance up to see Devon frowning at me, then to the knife in his hand. The one that I tried to stab him with.

My gaze darts to his thigh to see the denim sliced a little, but there’s not much damage, and since there’s no blood, I assume I didn’t knick his skin.

Dammit.

“I’m not going upstairs to have sex with you,” I mutter, trying to remember what I was even talking about.

“We’ll see.” He smirks, gripping my arm and leading me out from behind the bar, placing the knife on the counter before he calls out. “Ronnie! All clear!”

The door to outside opens, and I notice there’s no music playing anymore as Ronnie steps back in, his eyes scanning the space.

Shit. They must think I’m batshit crazy. And perhaps I am. Perhaps I’m unhinged again.

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