Page 12 of The Detective's Secret Santa

She grinds against my hand, that perfect ass in turn grinding against my cock. “Guess you’ll have to find out for yourself.”

I slide a hand inside her leggings, discovering a barely there strip of silk. A thong? It, too, is completely soaked through. I dive beneath the fabric and strike gold, I can’t help but let out a soft groan of pleasure. She’s so fucking wet it makes my head spin. My fingers slide through her folds like butter. I softly circle her clit, winning soft, strangled moans. She throws her other hand on the same stack of boxes, her fingers digging into the cardboard.

“You’ll have to be quiet,” I warn.

She gives me a shaky nod, rocking against my hand.

Going deeper still, I find her entrance and plunge my middle finger into her wetness. “Fuck,” I mutter, damn near coming inside my jeans. My cock throbs with want. I could so easily unzip my jeans and pummel her sopping pussy. The primal side of me wants nothing more than to claim her right here and now. Put an end to Brook dating all the wrong men.

I focus instead on her. Memorizing the feel of her and each pleasure spot.

“Oh my god, Bash,” she whisper-whines, warning me she’s close. “Don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop.”

Another time, I’d stop simply to build the pleasure so when she finally comes it’s so damn hard it’ll send her into the next dimension. But if I don’t get her off right now, we risk Molly catching us because we haven’t even begun to wrangle the tree out of the closet.

I circle my flattened palm against her pussy lips, applying just the right amount of pressure against her swollen bud, as I rock two fingers in and out of her channel.

Brooklyn comes apart so hard her entire body goes limp at once. I catch her with my free hand, holding her against me as an orgasm rocks her. The cutest fucking noises I’ve ever heard are strangled by her clamped lips as she struggles to stay quiet.

When she finally stills, I pull my hand from her leggings. She turns, watching me lift my fingers to my mouth and suck off her juices. Her expression dances between shocked and turned on. “Mmm. That’s one fucking sweet pussy.”

9

BROOKLYN

“Are you sure you don’t mind me leaving early?” I ask my boss, Meg. The stack of outgoing deliveries by the back door is piling up. It’s literally the only job at the bakery I’m any good at.

“I have some help today,” Meg says with a twinkle in her eyes as she rolls out cookie dough with an industrial-sized rolling pin.

“Oh?”

“It’s all part of a bigger plan.”

As much as I’m curious to know what’s cooking in Meg’s life—she’s become one of my closest friends since moving back home—I am eager to get to Mom’s house early. If Bash is there…I might actually get to find out if there’s really a Hammer of Thor in those jeans. The wicked thought makes me tingly all over.

“You should go for it.” Meg’s focus is on the Christmas tree shaped cookie cutter she’s pushing into the sheet of flat dough, but her message is clear enough.

I fold my arms, wondering what my friend knows. I didn’t think we had any witnesses when I tried to kiss Bash after the mistletoe and margaritas event. But I did mention him…I just omitted the three-year-long crush I’ve had on the man. And not a soul knows he had his hand down my leggings just last night, giving me one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had. “I thought you were against the whole age gap thing.”

“Just because it’s not my thing doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to stay happy.”

“Stay happy?”

“I recognize the glow, babe,” Meg says with a wink.

“The same one you’re wearing?”

Her smile is nothing short of mischievous. “After we survive Christmas, we’ll get the biggest bottle of wine we can find, mkay?”

“As long as it’s wine and not tequila—deal.”

“Go on. Get out of here. For the love of Santa, go get laid.”

Her words follow me up the mountain road to Mom’s. I almost don’t notice the wet falling snow or the gusting winds. My Mustang handles the drive like a champ on a mission. Time is finally on my side. Not only does Mom have to work late, but she has a Christmas party with her book club tonight. She won’t be home for hours. Bash isn’t exactly expecting me, but I did promise Mom I’d help finish decorating the house. It was late before we finished the tree last night.

The memory of Bash walking me to my car and sneaking a sinfully good kiss kept me warm all night long. I wanted to invite him home with me, but I had no idea how to explain that to Mom.

Bash’s truck sits in the driveway, causing my heart to race.

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