Page 121 of The Import Slot
“In your ass?”
As he says it, he tenses up and groans before discarding the dildo and leaning down over me.
“I can’t get enough,” he says.
It’s weird. I feel closer to him when we have anal sex. It feels more intimate.
He pulls out, and I roll off the bed, heading into the bathroom, where I sit on the loo. He follows me into the bathroom and washes himself before kissing me. Yes, we’ve crossed this line.
“Do you want a tea?”
“I’d love a tea.”
He leaves me to get myself cleaned up, and I jump in the shower quickly, careful not to wet my hair because that’s a fucking effort.
By the time he’s back, I’ve sorted myself out, and I’m on the bed with the crossword.
“So, what are your thoughts?”
“I’m struggling with this twenty-seven down,” I say, my lips curling into a smile.
He sets my mug down and dives onto the bed, rolling me over so I’m straddling him. “On tonight, and the sex.”
“Obviously, the sex. I honestly don’t know how you can make me come so quick. It’s ridiculous,” I say. He chuckles at this admission. I feel like I’m burning with need all the time. “But I loved it. And I’m looking forward to tonight.”
“You need to get ready.”
We’re having Christmas drinks at Ryan and Danny’s place tonight, and most of the guys from the team are coming.
“Do you think this escalated quickly?” I ask.
“What, the sex?” he stands up and pulls his t-shirt over his head.
“No, us. One minute you’re flying over from Toronto to play hockey, the next minute, you’re shopping for a Christmas tree with your girlfriend.”
“You know, I saw you the first day I got here. You were picking up that laptop from Danny outside our building, and I knew I was in trouble.”
“What?”
“I just knew there was something special about you. You fucking rocked my world and changed all my plans, but I’m not sorry.”
I share the details of my first sight of him as I drink my tea. How I wanted to see him hot and sweaty.
Vicky bangs on the door. “Jenna. Are you done having sex? We need to get going.”
“Shit. I haven’t done my hair or anything yet,” I say, getting up.
“I’ll go. You come over when you’re ready.”
I’m glad I’m dressed anyway because the door swings open, and Vicky is standing there holding a box of decorations I recognise from the office.
Someone found a pile of decs in the back of a storage cupboard, along with a few discarded Secret Santa gifts, which gave us the idea to do our own. I got Jani, but I don’t know who got me.
“I’ll meet you over there,” I tell Vicky.
“You’d be ready if you weren’t too busy fucking.”
The awkwardness shifts as a dark-haired guy wearing a Christmas jumper pokes his head around the doorframe.
