Spicy with a Side of Cranberry Sauce

by Rachell Nichole

  He held her hips, keeping her from sliding down his hard length the way she wanted to.

  “Condom.”

  Shit. She knew she’d forgotten something. If they went in search of one now, he’d no doubt let his mind take over again. She bit her bottom lip, delighted when his eyes zeroed in on her mouth.

  “I’ve always used them. Never once without them. You?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Always. And I’m on the pill.” Which she pretty much always remembered to take. She smiled. Could they really do this?

  He shifted, seeming to take her at her word, and guided the head of his cock to the heat of her entrance.

  “You sure?” he said.

  If he expected her to stop once she was committed to something, he had a lot to learn about her. She nodded and moaned at the stretching warmth as he pushed the head of himself in just a little. The feeling of skin on skin was intense. She’d never realized how different it would be without the latex.

  “Shh,” he whispered, capturing her lips with his as he flexed his hips, sending that delicious length farther into her. She lowered her pelvis, delighting in the feel of him. She kissed him again and again, keeping her mouth fused with his to stop from crying out as he filled her fully.

  She rocked gently against him, and he groaned into her mouth.

  “Hush,” she admonished and bit his lip. His hips jerked beneath hers. Oh, he liked that. She moved her head to the side, kissing and nibbling his chin, biting harder when he gasped and moaned. The rough stubble against her lips and tongue overwhelmed her with sensation. She kissed her way down his chest as she began lifting and lowering in a fast rhythm. She’d wanted him from the minute she’d looked up at his bearded grin and bright blue eyes.

  He clamped his mouth shut on another groan.

  “Good boy,” she whispered against his nipple. She took it between her teeth and moved her lower jaw from side to side. He thrust up hard, holding tightly to both of her ass cheeks as he pounded into her. She licked his nipple, then closed her mouth around it and sucked hard.

  He groaned again, and she tried to stop, tried to still their movements and contain her gasps of pleasure. She was so close to the edge and feared she might scream. It had been too long since she’d tried to be quiet while having sex. But his fingers dug into the flesh of her ass, moving her in a faster rhythm. She closed her lips around the other nipple, using her right hand to play with the one she’d left.

  “Amy…I’m…”

  He couldn’t finish his sentence. He clamped his mouth shut against his screams. He orgasmed, thrusting into her again and again. She rode him as he quivered beneath her. He slammed her down hard onto him, and she bit his nipple to keep from crying out.

  Chapter Seven

  Mason held his breath, trying to bring his heart rate back to normal. He exhaled hard, fearing he might explode. Amy’s head rested against his sweaty shoulder, her blonde hair sticking to his bicep. He moved his hands gently up from her rear to the small of her back. She squirmed in his arms.

  “Shh,” he whispered against her hair. He kissed the top of her head, and she sighed. He wanted to stay like this through Christmas, but that wasn’t possible. She seemed to sense him getting ready to pull back from her and tell her what a horrible lapse in judgment he’d had. And that it wouldn’t happen again.

  He had never before broken a promise to his mother.

  Amy sat up in his arms and smiled, and he forgot all his declarations that this had to be a one-time deal. That they couldn’t continue. He didn’t do relationships, after all. She kissed the tip of his nose, then nuzzled the side of his neck. She licked his earlobe, and he jerked inside her. Her muscles clenched around his shaft.

  “That didn’t take long,” she said against his ear.

  Excuse me?

  She laughed a little, the movement surrounding him with warmth again, and he forgot to be offended.

  “I meant seducing you…not the sex.” She rose onto her knees and slowly pulled herself from his arms and into a standing position.

  She’d set out to seduce him? Since when? She’d been jumping down his throat at every turn since they’d first been in this kitchen together. He just couldn’t get his bearings with her. Everything was so damned topsy-turvy. She padded across the tiles toward the island, and he tracked her every movement in the dim light. Her rounded butt looked even better out of her jeans, and it swayed with every step she took, begging to be touched. His gaze traveled down her legs to her petite, highly arched feet. They were smaller than they’d seemed in her biker boots. His perusal continued up to her backside and the curve of her lightly tanned hips, along her back and to her slender shoulders where blonde hair danced over her skin. She snatched a few paper towels from the holder and turned toward him.

  Uh-oh, he’d gotten caught staring. He returned his gaze to her face. She didn’t seem to mind being stared at. After handing him a paper towel, she cleaned her legs and the juncture of her thighs, and his cock threatened to come back to life. He looked away before he lunged at her again. She bent to slip her pink panties and shorts back on. He wiped himself quickly and then pulled on his pants. Even the soft fabric chafed against his sensitive skin. They tossed the paper towels in the garbage.

  “So,” she said. He handed her the tank top she’d been wearing, and she put it on. Such a shame to cover up those perfect breasts. “I guess if we want to cuddle, we should probably do that upstairs, huh?”

  How did he tell her that would be an even worse idea?

  “Right, there’s not going to be any cuddling, is there?”

  Jeez, she was perceptive. Or maybe he was just too easy to read. Why did he lose his cool so much around her?

  “Uh,” he said.

  “It’s okay.” She reached up and brushed the curls from his forehead, then kissed him. He tried to keep the kiss sweet and light the way she’d started it, but he was licking the salt from her lips and drawing her into his arms a second after her lips touched his. They held each other tight as their tongues swirled together.

  She was the one to break the kiss, pulling back from him and stepping out of his arms. Amy grabbed him by the hand and led him to the stairs. He’d never be able to look at them the same way again. What would his mother say if she knew? God, she’d expressly told him to leave Amy alone, and he’d gone and screwed that up big-time. But he let Amy lead him silently up the stairs anyway. She stopped outside his door and pushed her body against his once more.

  She looked up at him and released his hand to run her fingers through his hair. She grinned and licked her lips, then gave him a peck on the cheek.

  Night, she mouthed to him.

  “G’night,” he whispered back. She padded the few feet down the hall to her room without another word or a glance behind her. He’d never had a woman clear out so quickly after sex before. He turned and smacked his face right into his door. Biting his lip to keep from swearing, he turned the handle and went into his room, then closed the door behind him. He looked at the clock. It was nearly three.

  No doubt Mom would come in to shake him loose by seven at the latest. He closed his eyes, trying to calm his nerves the way his breathing and heart had slowed back to normal. But he didn’t feel normal. Nothing could be normal about this situation. He’d just had amazing sex on the staircase of his childhood home. What the hell had he been thinking? He hadn’t. For the first time in his life, he’d ignored common sense and possibly his conscience.

  Mason slipped into a cycle of fitful dreams and paralyzed wakefulness, all plagued by thoughts of Amy and what kinds of consequences his actions with her would have for him and his family.

  * * * *

  “Mason. Honey, wake up.”

  He opened his eyes, and his mother’s smiling face came into focus. Light shone into the bedroom from the hallway, but it was still dark behind the blinds of his window. He rubbed a hand over his face and blinked rapidly, trying to make his brain function.

  “H
appy Thanksgiving, sleepyhead.” Mom moved back from his bed and walked to the door. “I need you in the kitchen in twenty.”

  Uh-oh. Mom was officially in holiday mode, and he couldn’t clear his head. She flicked on the overhead light and blinded him before closing the door. He groaned and covered his head with his forearm. He felt like he was back in high school, Mom waking him up in time to catch the bus. A soft knock pulled him out of his thoughts. He sat up in bed, his blanket piling in his lap. What now?

  “Come in,” he called.

  The door opened, and Amy hovered in the doorway. She only paused for a second before stepping over the threshold. She closed the door quickly behind her and leaned against it. Seeing her standing there in his room heated his blood, making him glad for the protection of the blankets. And for the fact that she was clear across the room—well out of arm’s reach.

  “I just wanted to make sure things weren’t going to be too fucked-up between us this morning in front of our parents.”

  He cringed. Hearing her call his mom and her dad “our parents” freaked him the hell out.

  “No…we’re fine.” He hoped. “No awkwardness from my end. We probably shouldn’t have done that, but we did. Can’t change it now.”

  She nodded. “That’s good. Because my dad really wants this to work out with your mom, and I would feel terrible if I’d screwed it all up last night.”

  The memory of her in his arms flashed through his mind, making his body tense. She’d screwed something, all right.

  “Okay. Well, I’ll just see you downstairs.” She turned and left without another word, and he sat in stunned silence on his bed. What had her father said about not running away from things? Clearly there was a side to his daughter that James didn’t know so well.

  Mason got up and grabbed his stuff to go shower. If they were going to act like nothing happened, he needed to get his head on straight and stop thinking of Amy naked. He shivered at the remembered feel of her wrapped around his body.

  Yes, she’d definitely seduced him. And he’d welcomed it. Now he’d be close to her for the next few days and unable to touch her. He’d already told her what they’d done was a mistake. Maybe if he could convince himself of that, it would help him keep his hands to himself.

  As the steam from the shower swirled around him, Mason dried and dressed. He didn’t bother to shave, leaving the smattering of light auburn hair grazing his cheeks and neck. Amy hadn’t seemed to mind the rough stubble last night. She must be an expert with makeup, because he was sure his stubble had left a little bit of red skin behind after he’d kissed and nuzzled her. He looked at himself in the mirror. Dark circles marred the bottoms of his eye sockets, and his eyes were bloodshot. God, had he gotten even an hour of sleep? He’d performed in the office under such conditions before, and he would use all his determination to make it through the day without anyone being the wiser.

  Amy had looked delectable this morning. Apparently middle-of-the-night sex agreed with her. Had she gone right to sleep after their little encounter in the kitchen? Her cream-colored skin had practically glowed against the midnight blue of a sleeveless shirt. And he looked like the grim reaper. He shook his head and towel-dried his hair. It was time for him to get downstairs and play nice.

  He tossed his stuff in his room and headed down the infamous stairs. Feeling the heat of a blush creep up his face, he ducked his head as he entered the kitchen. Amy had their lists in her hand and was listening intently to his mom. James stood close by and waited for his marching orders. The turkey was already in the sink, and everyone stopped what they were doing to turn and look at him. The glow of early-morning sun peeked through the windows above the sink and the glass of the back door.

  “Happy Thanksgiving!” His voice was loud in the kitchen, only competing with the rush of the water from the sink as it cascaded over the skin of the turkey.

  His mother gave him an odd look, but Amy and James smiled. He needed to tone it down just a bit, or Mom would know something was up. He spread his arms wide.

  “Washed and ready. Where do you want me?” he asked his mom.

  She pointed to Amy. “Ask the lovely Miss Easton. She seems to know exactly what she’s doing, so I’ve put her in charge.”

  His mouth dropped open. He wasn’t sure he could close it again. Mom was giving over control of the kitchen? At Amy’s raised eyebrows and forced smile, he closed the gaping hole in his face.

  “Okay, what can I do?” he asked his new supervisor. If the day hadn’t been proving difficult enough already, it was now going to be close to impossible. He’d hoped he could talk his mother into separating the jobs in the kitchen and put some distance between him and the temptation of Amy. But he clearly wasn’t that lucky.

  She looked down at her list. Since he was the one who wrote it, he knew what came next. But he stood there and waited for her to tell him to go chop celery and onions.

  She handed him the cutting board. “Celery and onions, please.”

  He grabbed them out of the fridge where he’d helped her put them away just hours before. She walked by the stairs and smiled shyly while both their parents were looking the other way. He winked. He couldn’t help it. He was rewarded by a soft blush beneath her cheeks. He set to work on chopping, focusing so he didn’t cut off a finger, and listened to Amy dole out orders. She sounded so sure of herself, so in control, so unlike the overwhelmed woman he’d seen in the wee hours of the morning.

  After finishing the veggies, he turned and bumped right into Amy.

  “Sorry,” he said as heat zinged through his body.

  She shrugged her delicate shoulder, and he wanted to lick his way from there up her neck. He was staring, he knew, but he couldn’t help himself. A slight red mark marred her neck. She quickly covered it with her hand.

  “So what next?” he said loud enough for his parents to hear. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t realize…” he whispered.

  “It’s okay,” she murmured back. “Fry ’em up,” she said, louder.

  She moved back from him, taking her hand from her neck and getting back to work. As the four of them worked in the kitchen, he couldn’t help the bloom of holiday cheer that took root in his chest. Two pumpkin spice candles sat on the counter behind the sink, spilling an aroma into the kitchen that he would forever associate with his home and his family. He’d always been a sucker for family time, for the love that his mother brought with her wherever she went. Today it permeated the air in the kitchen, surrounding him with the certainty that while he might have made the wrong move with Amy last night, this morning was more important and seemingly untainted by his idiocy. As long as he kept it a secret.

  A pang of sadness wrapped around him at knowing the rest of his family wouldn’t be there this year. He would miss Elly and Dan, but probably not his father. He pushed the feelings aside. If Amy could overcome the loss of her mother at such a young age and deal with not having her mom around for every birthday, Thanksgiving, and Christmas thereafter, he would be okay without his little sister and older brother for one holiday.

  He couldn’t help but follow Amy’s movements around the kitchen and delight in every order she gave. Letting Amy run the show seemed to please both women. James took direction well from his daughter, and the way he looked after Mom, helping her, warmed Mason. A few times, melancholy darkened James’s face, and Mason wanted to give him a hug. But Mason didn’t know him well enough. Nor had James shared the painful history of losing his wife with Mason. He didn’t think the other man would appreciate Amy’s telling of that tale or Mason’s interference.

  After the turkey was in the oven and the smells of the kitchen overwhelmed him, he couldn’t stop thinking about getting Amy alone again. She excused herself for a moment, and he practically ran out of the room after her.

  He followed her into the living room where he found her sitting on the blue sofa, her head in her hands. He could hear his mother and James talking softly in the kitchen, but he put them out of
his mind. He sat beside Amy on the sofa.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She sniffed. Tears had streaked her mascara in dark lines down her face. “Nothing. It’s… God, it’s fucking perfect.”

  Her shoulders shook with a sob, and she shoved her fist in her mouth. He tugged it gently from her lips and placed a soft kiss on her knuckles.

  “What if I mess it all up? What if dinner is terrible? God, I don’t want to ruin this,” she said.

  “Shh.” He pulled her into his arms and sighed. He’d wanted to do that from the moment she walked into his room nearly two hours ago. He rubbed the soft shirt on her back. It was just as smooth beneath his fingers as he’d imagined. “It’s going to be fine. Things are going well in the kitchen. And if you misstep, Mom and I will help get things back on track.” Was she really worried about the meal, or was she using that as an excuse? He didn’t know if he should broach the subject of her mom’s absence. That had to be at the root of her anxiety, right?

  He’d never dealt with that kind of loss, and he didn’t know what to do. Except point out something good about the holiday.

  “Your dad’s doing well. Do you think he’s having a nice time? My mom and her holiday craziness can be a bit much, but sometimes it rubs off on others. And she’s genuine in her holiday cheer. She doesn’t love any time of year more than Halloween through New Year’s.”

  Amy nodded against his chest. “I’m sorry. I am never like this. I don’t…” She looked up. The impact of her soft hazel eyes slammed through him.

  “Cry? Why not?”

  She shook her head. “Because it never does any good.” She sat up straight and pulled back from him, physically and metaphorically.

  “Yeah, but sometimes you just need to cry.”

  “Right,” she said. But he could tell she didn’t believe him. He could practically see the walls coming up around Amy, shutting him out and hardening her vulnerabilities.

  They might not have another chance to really talk before his brother showed up and the holiday craziness exploded, but she seemed so exposed right now. It wasn’t the right time, but he feared they wouldn’t get another shot.