Page 26 of Stocking Stuffers
Chapter Five
Perry watched Sasha come down from her orgasm and plotted.
He wanted a date, and it should have been the simplest thing to ask for. She might say no.
Okay, she’dalreadysaid no.
He’d read enough romances to know that a good grovel could go a long way, but he didn’t really have anything to grovel for. Maybe a better plan would be to beg. Or execute a grand gesture.
He suspected none of those things would work on her. The romance novels he’d read had left him completely unprepared for this.
He evidently wasn’t made for no-strings arrangements. All she’d had to do was hand him a sex toy, and he was ready to start talking about the future. It might as well have been a ring.
She’d made sex fun, and he hadn’t had that in a long time. Sex had always been serious business. He wanted the laughing, the adventure, the eye-opening intimacy.Andhe wanted the girl.
With one last suck on the short, heavy dildo, he let it slip from his lips and tossed it behind him. The heft of it in his mouth had been obscene and dirty. And weirdly perfect. He didn’t think he had any desire to suck an actual penis but putting a fake one in his mouth had made him hot all over. Judging by Sasha’s dark, shocked expression, she’d been equally affected.
A slow grin spread across her face, and he was helpless to do anything but stare until the desire in him turned into a different type of longing. He couldn’t keep it inside.
“Sasha, I like you. What can I do to make you—”
She touched a finger to his mouth, silencing him. “Don’t ruin it.”
“Okay.” His voice wavered, and he put some space between them. He needed to not be naked right now.
“Perry, I’m sorry.”
He waved her off with a fake smile. “It’s okay.” He tossed her clothes to her, and they both got dressed. “I’m sorry I made it weird.”
She tipped her head back and peered at the pitched ceiling. “I can’t feel my toes yet.”
He laughed, pleased she was still reeling, and sat down beside her. She had a distinct way of putting people at ease without revealing anything about herself, and he wanted to know everything. Why she didn’t date, why she hated Christmas, why her eyes seemed to scream each time he was tender or sweet toward her, how she got into the sex-toy industry. Everything.
But those topics were ones you eased into, ones you told friends or lovers, not strangers who you were fucking to pass the time during a snow-pocalypse.
Sasha’s gaze drifted to the bookshelf spilling over with paperbacks. “I have a theory about what your favorite romance subgenre might be,” she said.
“Oh yeah?”
“Historical romance.” She turned back toward him in time to see him wrinkle his nose. She chuckled. “I’m that wrong?”
“A bit.”
“You sometimes talk like an old-timey hero.” He barked out a surprised laugh, and she ran a fingertip along his bearded jaw. “And you kind of look like a Mr. Darcy. All mysterious and dark haired, as if you should be walking along the rainy moors. Except you’re too smiley.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint, but you’re wrong.”
“What’s your favorite?”
“I think you’ll be surprised.”
“Hit me. I’ll brace myself.”
“Paranormal. Shifters, to be specific.”
A huge grin stretched her cheeks. She was so fucking gorgeous.
“I love that,” she said. “What’s the best book you’ve read recently?”
