Page 24 of Christmas Spirit
Georgie, his mouth hot and wet, taking him down to the root of his dick…
Georgie, gasping and whimpering, as Roland grabbed and twisted a fistful of Georgie’s raven-dark hair, holding his head rigid as he fucked hard into his mouth…
Georgie, straddling him, his lips swollen and spit-soaked, a guttural cry forcing itself from his throat as he wrapped his palm around his dick, rutting into his fist as he rode Roland’s cock…
Roland thrust shaky fingers through his sweat-damp hair. None of it had happened. It couldn’t have happened. He’d dreamed of Georgie earlier, and this was the same.
His teeth clenched down on his lower lip, and he winced. Sore and tender. He ran the tip of his tongue across the throbbing skin. Georgie had crushed his lips to his, as he’d ridden his cock all the way to the finish line, and—
Roland released a strangled cry, squeezing his eyes tight as his orgasm thundered through him. He fisted his palm around his cock, every throb and pulse as hard and fast as his heartbeat.
His hand slipped from his cum-soaked crotch. Prising his eyes open, he looked into the inky dark of the dead of night. The candles, every single one of them, were doused. Next to him Georgie was little more than a sleeping shadow in the darkness.
Sleeping. That’s what he’d been doing. A dream he’d woken from, when his climax had catapulted him awake.
His release was cooling on him, making him itch. He needed to wash away the evidence. On trembling legs, he staggered to the bathroom, locking the door behind him.
Chapter Fourteen
Georgie’s nose twitched and his mouth began to water. The savoury aroma of bacon filled his senses, as succulent, salty and tangy as—
He opened his eyes, blinking at the tapestried bed curtains of the four poster.
As tangy as… He swallowed, chasing the last vestiges of a dream that was already fading in the morning light. Fluttering candlelight, dancing over his body, over Roland’s body, as they’d twisted and turned and tumbled in the bed, the duvet pushed to the floor.
Fuck.
Oh, no.
Oh, yes.
No,no way. He’d dreamed about him andRoland?
Christ, he wasn’t that desperate to have screwed his boss. Was he?
No. The candles, in his dream because that’s what it was, had been aflame. He’d put them out before his fruitless attempt to sleep in the chair, before he’d slipped into bed at Roland’s command, clinging onto the edge, keeping as much distance between him and Roland as he could. If he’d put the candles out, then they couldn’t have been alight, which meant he and Roland couldn’t have… Georgie shifted, and the bed creaked.
“Good, you’re awake. You should get up because I want to go soon.”
At the window, staring out, Roland stood clutching a large steaming coffee cup. His hair was slightly mussed, as though he’d been running his hands through it. A pair of black jeans moulded themselves to his long legs, and a dark moss green jumper wrapped itself around his torso. Green, like Roland’s eyes, glittering in yellow candlelight, just before he grinned and went down—
No.No, none of that had happened, because it couldn’t have. It just couldn’t.
“Sure. I’ll jump in the shower. I’ll be really quick.”
One of the abandoned towels lay within arm’s length and Georgie tugged it over, pulling it around his waist to hide his nakedness.
I was wearing my pants when I got into bed.
They lay in a crumpled heap on the floor.
He threw a glance at Roland, who carried on staring out at the snow-covered landscape, completely still and as though he were alone. Grabbing his clothes, Georgie dashed to the bathroom, with no idea how he was going to ask Roland, Roland Fletcher Jones, hisboss, if they’d done a whole lot more than, literally, sleep together.
“It’s stopped snowing and it’s a clear sky, thank God. I’ll get directions to town from Nicholas,” Roland said, when Georgie emerged fully dressed from the bathroom.
His train. Would there even be one running?
“Sure, thanks.”
