Page 46 of War on Christmas

“I’m here…Asshat.”

“Only took you twenty years,” I quip, trailing the back of my finger along her silken cheek.

Her hands, those gorgeous, fine-boned hands, run restlessly up and down my chest, dropping a little further down with every pass. To my abs. My hips. I’m already hard—have been since the moment I walked in and saw her lounging in that chair, waiting for me—but this time when her fingertips graze my cock over my pants, I don’t pull her hand away. She pauses for a second, peeks up at me through her long lashes, and bites back a smile before returning to her ministrations with single-minded focus, like she’s committing the size and shape of me to memory. Every graze, every press, every pass of her fingers over my length fills me with heat, and I don’t even try to hide my reaction to her touch. My breath skipping. My heart pounding.

I love watching her. I love the sexy way she bites her lip as she studies me, discovering the strokes that make me grunt and squirm under her fingers. I love the flush that creeps up her chest, staining her pale skin a warm, glowing pink. I love her smile of triumph when she cups my balls through my pants and I can’t hold back a loud, low groan. I rasp out a laugh and tip her head back, my mouth falling to hers for a hard, fast kiss before I pull back.

“Do you still think I hate you?” I ask, my lips nibbling along her throat and jaw.

She snorts. “Umm…ever heard of a hate fuck?”

“Pretty sure that’s not what’s happening here,” I say. I hold her still for a long, slow kiss, and she opens those forbidden-fruit lips for me immediately, no hesitation. The moment my tongue touches hers, all bets are off. It’s like the taste of her, chocolatey hops and salt, is the spark that finally sets fire to the tension simmering between us.

“Speak for yourself,” she gasps, and I chuckle against her lips between kisses.

“You don’t hate me, Sunshine.” If her kisses are driving me wild, her hands are driving meinsane. My hips start pressing forward, seeking out the pressure and friction of her fingers, and I need to stop. Now.

“I don’t?” she asks. My hand drifts down to the soft curve of her breast, and she arches her back, pushing herself into me. “Please mansplain some more.”

Fuck, I love that sassy mouth of hers. I pick her up, cradling her in my arms, and stride across the room.

“Do you have any clue how many times I’ve fantasized about spanking that perfect ass of yours?” My hand palms her bottom through her skirt, and she squirms against me.

“See, youdoget hate fucking.” She pats my cheek. “You were always so smart.”

God help me.

When we get to the bed, I let Freya’s body slide down mine, enjoying every moment of friction. “You’re about one smart-ass comment away from ending up over my knee.”

She gives me an evil smile. “Promises, promises.”

Fuck. Strategy, Jeremy. Strategy.

“Slow down there, Sunshine.” I spin her so her back is pressed to my chest, and we’re both facing the fire. I keep one hand on her hip, pulling her into me, and rest the other on her breastbone, delighting in the way her heartbeat races under my palm. “Don’t you think we should savesomethingfor the second date?”

She rocks against me, little rolling movements that rub the upper curve of her ass against my cock, and my fingers seek out her breast, dipping inside the neckline of her dress to massage her hard nipple. She whimpers, and I press my lips to her hair, wrapping my arm around her waist to give her more support.

And still, she can’t seem to stop that mouth of hers.

“Who said anything about a second date?”

Thirty-One

FREYA

It’snotthatIdon’t realize when I’m pushing people’s buttons. It’s that Ienjoypushing people’s buttons. So, I’m not totally surprised when Jeremy is suddenly sitting on the edge of the bed and, as promised, he has me turned over his knees, staring at the plush carpet.

Here I am, back in the land of Whoops! I’ve Gone Too Far, my new favorite tourist destination.

Then Jeremy’s big, calloused hand is sliding my skirt up the back of my legs, the material brushing pleasantly along the sensitive skin of my thighs, and Too Far feels more like Just Right. My skirt swishes up, and for the barest moment, Jeremy freezes. He can’t see my face, so I allow myself a grin, knowingexactlywhat tripped him up.

“Fuck,” he exhales. “A garter belt?” His fingertips trail upwards again, past the tops of my black silk stockings and onto the bare skin just under my bottom, and I can’t suppress a little shiver. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“Not gonna lie. There are moments when the idea has merit.” I wiggle, giving my booty a little shake. The air on my skin is cool, but it’s no match for the rush of heat between my legs. “Do you think I’m going to strangle you with my garter belt? There are worse ways to go, I guess. That would be—”

Thwack!

It’s light and playful. There’s no sting to it. However, there’s no denying the sizzle of dominance in his touch, even now as he soothes and calms my bottom.

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