Page 132 of Off Camera
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“It would make my whole day.” I tear open the envelope and burst out laughing. “Okay, hotshot. Fake tickets to the Ella Wright concert? Very funny.”
“They aren’t fake,” he says. “They’re real.”
I whip my neck up to stare at him. “Holy shit. How?—”
“Dallas,” he says. “He and Theo Asher are friendly. Theo asked if he wanted a suite for the concert in DC. Dallas said yes, knowing Maven would probably divorce him if he turned down the offer. It comes with twelve tickets, and since you also like her music, I figured you’d want to go.”
I launch myself at him and hug him tight. Reid laughs into my neck and hugs me back. “This is incredible.”
“Is that a yes that you want to go?”
“Of course it’s a yes.Reid. You got me VIP tickets to see my favorite artist with my friends. This makes the Millennium Falcon seem very underwhelming.”
“Far from underwhelming,” he says. “Exactly even, I’d say, because they’re both things that are important to us.”
“Are you going to come to the concert?” I ask.
“Are you going to wear a short skirt and dance to her music?”
“Obviously. Maybe I’ll wear a sparkly dress. Some knee-high boots.”
“You have my attention. Can I pull you into a dark corner and make out with you? Maybe feel you up when our friends aren’t looking?
“Only if it’s during one of my least favorite songs.”
“You’ve got yourself a deal, Sinclair,” he says, and I think my heart is dangerously close to falling out of my chest.
“When do we have to leave for Dallas and Maven’s?” I ask. “Please tell me we have some time.”
“We have to be there in half an hour, but we could probably push it to forty-five minutes. Maverick said something about Nerf guns, and the thought of him with any sort of weapon is fucking terrifying. Why? Did you have something in mind?”
“Yeah. A second present for you.” I guide his hand to my leg and the top of my stockings. “They have bows. That’s festive enough to count as another gift, right?”
“Are these—” He lifts up my skirt and groans. “Thigh highs? God. You’re going to kill me. We’re never going to make it to see our friends, and I don’t care. Forget Christmas. Fucking you is going to be a new tradition.”
“I think I’ve been good this year, right?” I ask, standing. I work the zipper of my skirt down slowly, and Reid watches me like his life depends on it.
“Yes,” he rasps.
My skirt falls to the floor, and I kick it away with my toes. “Does that mean I can sit on your lap?”
“Take everything off but the thigh highs.”
“Yes sir,” I say, and his hand disappears in his joggers. I strip until I’m left in only the white stockings, and I watch him stroke himself. “Now what?”
“Come here,” he says, yanking his pants down to his ankles. “Let me show you how good you’ve been, Avery.”
“This might be my favorite part of Christmas. Ho, ho, ho, am I right?”
“Shut up and fuck me, baby,” he says, and I do.
I groan when I sink onto him. I say his name when he presses his thumb into my clit. I lose my breath when he tips me over the edge, one orgasm than a second, and I don’t give a damn we’re almost an hour late to see our friends.
THIRTY-EIGHT
AVERY
