Page 26 of Secret Santa

She whisper giggled while fumbling for her keys to get her door unlocked. While she attempted for the third time to get the key and the lock to connect, I took a languorous exploration of her neck. Christmas. The woman smelled like Christmas. Like chocolate and cake batter, hints of fresh balsam, and her very sensible, lemon scented grease neutralizing soap. She kept it everywhere. Her bathroom, her diner, she had little travel vial of hand sanitizer in the same lemony scent.

“We’re not even inside yet,” she groaned on a whisper.

“Then I guess you should try harder to get the key in the lock.”

She still wore one of her fifties dresses, but she’d wrapped herself in a soft as a cloud plaid shawl. We tumbled across the threshold of her apartment, my reflexes barely fast enough to brace us against the wall as we stumbled in. Having her pressed up against me did little to slate how badly I wanted to run my hands over her haunches, press her skirt up above her hips and worship that generous ass of hers.

“Priscilla, while I’m ninety-nine percent certain that we’re on the same page here. I want you to know that I’m good with whatever.”

She captured my lips in hers, pressing her teeth into the fullest part. “Same page. But I really would like to take the fastest shower known to man, just to rinse the day off my skin. I won’t be able to relax without it.”

She led the way, though I practically knew it given our apartments were mirror images of one another. It didn’t feel weird. Those brief seconds between when you have the discussion about having sex and then move on to the room where the sex actually will happen. Granted it had been a while, but I’d yet to find a smooth transition in those types of situations. It brought back flashbacks of those first few times when you were always ready with a condom, hoping some random girl at the bar would suddenly show enough interest to ask you to go home with her.

Her bedroom was nothing like I expected it to be. Where the diner was loud and kitschy, her bedroom was soft and peaceful. She pressed me to the edge of her bed, where I sat, watching in rapt attention as she lifted her dress over her head with zero self-consciousness. Priscilla was a goddess. While I stood and gaped, ignoring the tickle in my fingers that wanted to touch and explore, she locked eyes with me as she undid her braid and shaking her hair loose.

“I’ll be out in less than ten minutes.”

I’d been so lost in watching her finger comb her hair, I forgot she wanted to take a shower. Despite the plan to be naked in the very bed I sat at the edge of, she’d swung the bathroom door closed nearly all the way. I heard the water run and her step into her shower, softly humming as she did so. I stood and undressed, stepped into her bathroom, and got lost in the soft citrusy scent of her body wash.

“Hey you’re supposed to be waiting in the other room.” I heard her chastise me with no heat in her voice, from over the shower curtain.

“I couldn’t,” I told her. It was the truth. The thought of having to sit idly on her bed, hard and desperate to run my hands over her curves for even one second more seemed unbearable. “I thought maybe you might want some help; you know cleaning the hard-to-reach places.”

I knew what I looked like naked. But feeling someone else appreciate how you look naked has to be one of the headiest elixirs. I stepped into Priscilla’s shower, thinking she’d be facing the shower nozzle and I could have a moment to really collect myself before she turned around and noticed me. Her storm cloud eyes ensnared me the moment I stepped in.

The water ran down her hair and across her face in rivulets, dripping from her chin onto the most luscious set of breasts. I wanted to spend hours worshipping them. I watched her internal struggle between staying focused on my face and some instinct that shifted her eyes in subtle, jerking movements down to my thickening cock and back up to my face over and again.

“You can look.” I took my cock in hand, trying hard not to close my eyes against the heavenly feel of my palm. “I know you want to, and I don’t mind. This is all for you. Because of you, so why not appreciate your handiwork for a second.”

I wanted to look my fill. To take my time appreciating every curve. To run my water slickened hands over the roundest parts of her, and watch her body come alive. But I lived for the torture of the moment. To exist in the in-between space where sex was inevitable but the question mark of when had yet to be determined.

“Do you like what you see?” I asked her, leaning my back against the tiles of her shower. There wasn’t much room in the shower, but even those extra three inches of space felt like a football field. It gave me a moment to collect myself. To take a breath and get centered. Talking to her about touching myself while my hand seemed to have developed a mind of its own madenotcoming rank up there right around summitting Everest.

She nodded, her lip caught between her teeth as she did. That mouth. I tried to tamp down the images of what I wanted to do with it. I already held my orgasm at bay with a toothpick of concentration.

“How about you?” The damp steam of the shower muffled the sound of her voice. It sounded as if it were just above a whisper, throaty and seductive. “I could ask you the same question.”

It was the first time I noticed her fingers were painted with sparkly red nail polish. As she traced down her breastbone toward her teardrop breasts, that red nail polish felt like a flag and me the prize bull.

“Princess, the wordlikedoesn’t even exist in the solar system of desire I’m feeling right now.”

Rather than fill the shower with useless words, I dropped to my knees in front of her. The faint citrus scent of her body wash wrapping around my brain pulling me toward the prize that met me at eye level.

“Presley,” she groaned my name, the moment my lips came in contact with the inside of her knee. “I’m almost finished.”

“I’m just getting started.” I chuckled, drawing a path through the running water with my lips.

The shiver that rippled through her drew my balls up. I wouldn’t be rushed. Not even for sweet sounding entreaties from beautiful women.

“If you give me three more minutes, we can be nice and comfortable in the bed that is on the other side of that door.”

There was laughter in her voice, but the honeyed timbre of desire bounced off the walls.

“I couldn’t wait three more minutes.” I told her, lifting her leg and placing it on the ledge of the tub, opening her most precious butterfly to my perusal. “And we’ll make it to the bed eventually.”

She sighed and keened the closer each lick and nibble came to the place the serpentine shift of her hips tried to direct me to. I’d wondered all week if Priscilla was as affected by the protracted flirting and petting. If she’d spent the week anticipating the moment we could finally break away from our obligations. The moment my tongue flit across her clit, she didn’t just erupt, she detonated. Her fingers wove into my hair and held me firm, moving against my mouth with abandon.

My ego swelled and preened. If she had been frustrated with my work obligations or blasé about our interactions, she wouldn’t have come so quickly. I licked and sucked, worshiping her with my mouth, meeting every shiver and jerk of her muscles until I drained her of every drop of that orgasm.

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