Page 18 of Stocking Stuffers
Sasha rolled her eyes. Benji texted her again before she could respond.
Benji:I recommend the Rimmy. Whoever your partner is will love it.
She laughed. The Rimmy was a Lady Robin’s butt plug. It had beads that moved around the neck, which was supposed to mimic the feel of being rimmed. Her brother was a menace.
Sasha:I’m stuck in a Hallmark movie. There’s a Christmas tree in my room, and I bet I get bullied into singing carols by the end of the day. What the hell should I do?
She fully expected Benji, her cynical little brother, to tell her to slick on black nail polish and embrace her hatred of the season. Her siblings knew how much Christmas got to her. They’d been there during the fallout of her broken engagement, had helped pick her up when she was sure she’d never get out of bed, and had trashed thousands of dollars of Christmas wedding decorations for her so she’d never have to see them again.
Benji:Fa la la la la, bitch.
Well, he was a dead end.
Sasha:I should have asked the divorcée.
Benji:Only if you wanted to listen to Rosie fuss over you.
Sasha groaned. A meddling, worried sister was the last thing she needed.
Sasha:You suck.
Benji:Like a pro.
She wrinkled her nose.
Sasha:That’s enough of that. Are you at your apartment? Do you have all the bread and milk you’ll need?
As Sasha checked up on her brother—he had two older sisters who loved to fuss over him—ensuring he wasn’t going to starve during the snow-pocalypse, thin light started to filter through her window. She crawled out of bed and peeked outside. It was a solid white hellscape.
Another day in holiday paradise.
Once the shower shut off and she heard Perry’s door to the bathroom close, she snuck into the en suite. Her Double Trouble was still on the counter, which filled her with ridiculous giddiness.
She grabbed the toy and brought it into the shower with her. It was waterproof after all. As the water rushed over her head, she let her mind wander and rubbed the vibrator over her clit. Images flashed through her mind, some fragmented and disjointed. She conjured up the lips, the eyes, the smile of a woman she’d slept with last month.
She pushed the Double Trouble inside her pussy, upping the vibration.
Good, so good.
A different smile hit her unexpectedly. Perry’s.
The huskiness of his voice. The uninhibited ring of his laugh. His open, expressive face.
Oh fuck.
Heat ripped through her as more images of him burst through her brain.
The corded muscles in his neck standing in stark relief. The bones of his hand as it worked the Fancy Fleshstroker. His eyes rolling back. His fingertips slipping through the slickness of her arousal.
She had to bite her wrist to muffle her cries as she came.
Once the ripples of pleasure began to ebb, she slumped against the wall of the shower in shock. She was officially giving the Double Trouble her stamp of approval.
But where Perry Winters was concerned, she was so fucked.
She finished showering, using shampoo and soap that smelled like peppermint, because of course even the toiletries in this place were Christmas-themed. Out of the clothes Valerie had lent her, she chose a pair of loose sweatpants and a sweatshirt that saidMatriarchy Knows Best.
When she finally made it downstairs, Valerie and Perry were in the kitchen cooking cherry-stuffed French toast together. From the doorway of the kitchen, Sasha watched as Valerie hip-bumped Perry out of the way. They laughed and teased each other, until Valerie started singing a Christmas carol.
