Page 54 of A Very Bossy Christmas
“Shit! Sorry!”
“I’m fine.” He groans. “Nooooo pain.”
He puts his hand out to hold the doors open so I can slip into the hallway. I don’t remember elevators being this difficult to use, but they’re really very dangerous and complicated. I pull him out into the hallway with me so the doors don’t close on him, and I guess the adrenaline rush of nearly dying is giving me strength, because I yank him so hard that he stumbles and takes me with him, and we fall to the carpet in slow motion.
Fortunately, our bones are rubbery, and we have a few extra inches of carb padding to cushion the fall.
So now this is happening.
I’m on my back on the floor—which is all I ever wanted—and Declan is facedown, and we’re both laughing so hard we can’t breathe.
I mean, we could barely breathe before because of the carb padding.
“Are you okay?” I finally manage to ask.
“I totally meant to do that.” He hikes himself up onto his elbows, and I swear to God, he still looks sexy right now. “Should we just fuck right here, maybe?”
“Sure.”
“Cool.”
We both stay exactly where we are for thirty seconds or maybe an hour, and then we slowly crawl toward his room, which is closer, and lean against the door.
“I’m going to stand up now,” he declares.
“I’m going to watch you do that.”
He slides up the door, going up, up, up.
“I’m so proud of you!”
“I’m just getting started making you proud, baby,” he says as he fumbles around, trying to find the key card in his pocket.
The seventh or eighth time he slides the key card through, I hear a little beep, and then the door that I’m sitting and leaning against opens, and now I’m lying on the floor again.
Which is great.
“Oops,” he says about ten seconds after it happened, because he’s unbuckled his belt and let his pants drop to the floor and I’m so fucking jealous. “I got you. Hang on.” He bends down, grabs my wrists, and pulls me across the carpet until my feet clear the door and it closes.
“Thanks.”
“I saved you.” He lies down alongside me, with his head by my feet. “I need to get you out of my ma’s pants.”
“Okay.”
He tugs at one of the pant legs for a while. “I can’t.”
“That’s okay.” I close my eyes and rub my belly. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, baby.” I feel his head on my breast. Not kissing it or anything. He’s just laying his head upon it. “We’re gonna lie here like this for ten minutes, and then I will fuck you like an animal.”
“You got it, champ.”
I’m not exactly sure how it works, anatomically, but I am one hundred percent certain that there is no room left in me for his penis. Not even the tip. And I am ten thousand percent sure that my body is too busy digesting to let me have even the tiniest orgasm.
Which really sucks.
Because I want his penis in me.
