One Hot December (Mills & Boon Blaze) (Men at Work, Book 3)

by Tiffany Reisz

  “I am.”

  “It’s literally the sexiest feeling in the world when you do that because it’s like your vagina can’t get enough of my cock, and just needs more and more of it, deeper and deeper.”

  “It does, Ian.

  “Your pussy feels so good with nothing between us. If I cry when I come inside you, just pretend you don’t see it.”

  “See what? I don’t see anything.”

  “That’s my good girl.”

  He pumped his hips again and Flash lay back underneath him with her eyes closed and let it all wash over her. His thrusts were hard but steady, deep and forceful, but not painful. He knew exactly how to fuck her the way she needed and wanted. Her vagina pulsed around him, muscles twitched in pleasure, her breath hitched in her throat and her chest. Ian’s body was hot on top of hers. They were both sweating and the wetness made it all the sexier. The bed creaked underneath them and nothing, not even a bomb going off outside the house, could have stopped them in this moment. She couldn’t stop moving, couldn’t stop writhing. She felt so open and wide and slick and Ian pounded into her with thrusts that took her breath away. She could have lain there taking it for days, it felt so good. She hooked her feet over the backs of his muscular thighs and clutched his shoulders in her hands, wanting to be as close to him as possible. Every thrust into her sent pleasure shooting from her hips to her nipples and all the way into the backs of her thighs. This was full-body fucking, nothing held back from either of them. Sounds escaped her lips—moans and gasps, groans and cries. She couldn’t get enough of his cock, of his body, of his thrusts, of him.

  When she lifted her hips into him, he grazed her swollen clitoris, and when he pulled out her pussy ached to be filled again. The next thrust into her met that desperate need and the cycle started all over. She was wild underneath him, pumping her hips in rhythm with his thrusts, her breasts swollen with desire and her nipples hard as diamonds. It was a thousand degrees in the room, a million. She needed air but they couldn’t stop. They’d die if they did. She was so close to coming, so close it hurt. Ian must have sensed it in her movements or her breathing. He shifted his weight onto his knees, held her by the waist and slammed into her, impaling her as she came and came, every muscle inside her body spasming and contracting and releasing only to contract again even harder, clutching at his cock and squeezing it. She felt a rush of wet heat inside her as Ian came with her and inside her and with her name on his lips.

  Ian collapsed on top of her and she lay limp and spent beneath him, her pussy still fluttering around him with final tiny contractions.

  “Are you crying?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Are you lying?”

  He laughed softly. She loved feeling his chest moving against hers. They were so close she could feel his laugh even better than she could hear it.

  “Maybe.” He turned his head and she looked at him. No tears.

  “That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had,” she said. “I thought you should know that.”

  “The best?”

  “Top five at least.”

  “I’d run a victory lap right now but my cock’s still in you.”

  “Still hard?”

  “No, but I think I’m stuck. You have a pussy like a steel trap.”

  Flash rolled her eyes and opened her legs wide. Ian slid out of her and rolled onto his side. They lay facing each other. The moon shone through a break in the tree cover and white light filled the room, enough to see each other by, and enough for Flash to see a dozen red bruises on her breasts, stomach, hips and thighs.

  “I can’t believe you gave me hickies,” she said. “They’re all over me.”

  “Really? You can’t believe that? It really seems like something I would do. Because it is. Except...”

  “What?”

  “I think I missed a spot when I was marking my territory.”

  “Do not put a hickey on my pussy.”

  “I don’t know if that would work, but I wouldn’t mind trying. Hold still.”

  “Ian...”

  He pushed her onto her back and she braced herself for whatever he was about to do to her. He slid on top of her and pressed his mouth to her chest and left a small bite right over her heart.

  “There,” he said. “Perfect.”

  “Can I mark my territory, too?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Why not?” she demanded.

  “Because you’d have to mark every square inch of me,” he said.

  Flash stared at him through narrowed eyes.

  “Challenge accepted.”

  Flash jumped on top of him and started biting.

  * * *

  IAN WOKE UP around midnight and instinctively reached over to Flash’s side of the bed. It was empty.

  “Fuck.”

  “Already?”

  Ian smiled and sat up. Flash stood in the doorway to his bedroom.

  “Where’d you go?” he asked. She was fully dressed—jeans, boots, coat, everything.

  “Nowhere. Yet.”

  “Are you leaving?”

  “We are,” she said. “Get up and get dressed.”

  Ian eyed her suspiciously.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “You’ll see,” she said. “I think you’ll like it.”

  “I don’t know about this.” Ian threw the covers off him and started gathering his clothes. “It’s midnight and you’re being mysterious. This is the beginning of a horror film.”

  “It is.”

  “I knew it. You’re going to murder me and dismember my body, aren’t you?”

  “Would I do something like that?” she asked.

  “Probably,” Ian said.

  “You may have a point there.” She walked over to the bed while he was tugging his socks on. She bent and kissed him on the mouth. “I promise, I’m not going to murder you and dismember your body tonight. Now hurry up. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

  “Thank you. Wait. What do you mean you won’t murder me ‘tonight?’” he called out as she walked out of the room. “Does that mean you won’t murder me ever or you just won’t murder me tonight?”

  Flash didn’t answer.

  He finished dressing and went downstairs. She handed him his heavy winter coat and gloves.

  “Are you going to tell me where we’re going now?” He pulled on his gloves while she yanked her red wool toque down over her ears.

  “Out,” she said. “Out there.” Flash pointed at the patio door.

  “Into the woods?” Ian pulled his gray beanie on and down over his ears.

  Flash opened the back door and stepped out onto the deck.

  “You coming?”

  “Fine. I’m coming.” Ian closed the door behind them and followed her down the deck steps and onto the snowy path. “But if a bear or a wolf shows up, I’m letting them eat you while I run away since this was your idea.”

  “I accept your terms. Now hold my hand, dammit.”

  “Okay, dammit,” he said, taking her hand in his. They trudged through the crunching snow, stumbling over twigs and rocks buried under the white powder. They passed under tree branches thick with snow and ice and scrambled over fallen tree trunks festooned with deep green moss. They worked their way up the hill toward a clearing in the woods. It was slow going in the snow and the cold and walking uphill. Although they’d walked half an hour, they hadn’t traveled far enough to even lose sight of the chalet roof half a mile behind them. They reached the clearing where the tree line thinned and met the edge of a heavy snowpack. His nose was red and running, his eyes were lined with tears and his lungs burned from the thin air and the uphill walk.

  And yet...

  Above them the full moon gl
owed bright as the daytime sun and the snow all around them shimmered like white marble and quartz. Away from the city the stars came out—millions of stars, billions of stars, more stars than God could count. Flash was smiling and Ian forgot all about the stars.

  “Damn, it’s beautiful out here,” Ian said, squeezing Flash’s gloved hand in his. “I’m glad we came out.”

  “I said something mean to you,” she said.

  “I probably deserved it.”

  “You didn’t deserve it when I said I only wanted to use you for sex. And you didn’t deserve it when I said I didn’t want to hold your hand and go walking in a winter wonderland with you.”

  “Is that why we’re out here?”

  “I thought it would be a better way to say ‘I’m sorry’ than just saying ‘I’m sorry.’ I do want to hold your hand. I do want to go walking in the snow with you. I want us to have a real relationship. I love having sex with you but I do want more than that.”

  “I want that, too,” Ian said. “I’m ten years older than you are so it’s only right that I warn you that I’ll want to get married sooner rather than later. I think I even want a kid—one at least, two at the most. Those things are important to me. And if you can’t see that happening with me—”

  “I can,” she said.

  “You can?”

  “Yeah. With you I can see that happening. It scares me but in the good way, the way I get scared when I get a good idea for a sculpture and I don’t know if I can pull it off or not but I have to try.”

  “This feels real, what you and I are doing,” he said. “I need it to be real. I don’t want to dick around. I don’t want to screw this up. I want the real thing with you and I want it now. We’ve waited long enough to get serious with each other.”

  “I feel the same way,” she said. “It’s a relief to hear you say it.”

  “How would you feel about me giving you the key to my place?” he asked. “That way it won’t be breaking and entering when you wait outside the bathroom while I’m in the shower.”

  “I think I like that idea.”

  “What do you think about moving in with me up here?” Ian tensed. He knew he was pushing things with her but right now with the snow under their feet and the stars over their heads like an umbrella, he felt like he could say anything to her.

  “Are you in love with me?” she asked.

  “You know I am.”

  “Say it.”

  “I’m in love with you, Veronica Redding. I am deeply in love with you. I spent the last six months trying not to be in love with you, and there were days when it was physically painful to be around you and not tell you what I feel. It felt like I had a vise clamped on my heart and now it’s finally off. All the pain in my chest is gone. I know it’s kind of soon to mention all this, but I’ve spent six months not being able to take a full breath because of you and now I can breathe again and all I want to breathe in or out is you.”

  There was that smile again, that smile as rare and lovely as a rose blooming in winter.

  “I can’t move in with you,” she said. “I want to. I do. But I can’t afford it.”

  He laughed. “You think I’d charge you rent? I don’t want or need your money.”

  “Yes, but I want and need my dignity. I’m not going to mooch off you just because you can afford it.”

  “But—”

  “I can’t,” she said again. “And I swear, it’s not you. I’ve been in love with you a long time. You asking me to move in with you feels like Santa Claus showed up and asked me if I wanted a new Lincoln Electric torch kit and two tons of scrap metal. Of course I want it. But I’m not sleeping with Santa Claus. I can’t take charity from the man I’m in love with. I love it when you play the boss when we’re in bed together, but when we’re not in bed, I need us to be equals. I can’t be in your debt.”

  “I get that, I do,” he said. “When I was in my twenties, I lived in a whole series of shitty apartments because I wouldn’t take money from Dad, and I didn’t want to live at home. But you already told me you’re going to be making the same amount at Clover’s nursery as you were at Asher. Does that mean we’re never going to live together?”

  She sighed and blew a cloud of smoke all the way up to the moon.

  “How about this?” she said. “How about we wait until I sell a sculpture? I only have to sell one and I can afford to pay my fair share of this place for at least a year. Then I can move in and not feel like a gold digger.”

  “I only make two-fifty a year. It’s more like a bronze digger.”

  She laughed. “You know what I mean.”

  “I know what you mean. Okay, it’s a deal. I don’t want to wait but I can. For you I can definitely wait.”

  “The Morrison Gallery is doing a big show and a nightly gallery hop the week before and on Christmas. I might sell something. You never know.”

  “And then you’ll move in with me?”

  “And then I’ll move in with you.”

  “You promise?”

  “I swear.”

  “And you said I can’t buy one of your sculptures?”

  She shook her head. “No cheating.”

  “Fine. No cheating.”

  With her hand in his, he started to pull her back toward the path, back toward the house. He couldn’t wait to get her into bed again and make love to her until morning.

  “Wait,” she said. “Look.”

  She pointed at the sky and Ian followed her finger to where what appeared to be a small meteor was streaking through the cluster of stars and toward the horizon.

  “Make a wish,” she said.

  Ian made his wish.

  “What did you wish for?” Flash asked.

  “For you to sell a sculpture.”

  She laughed softly. “You want me to move in that much?”

  “I want you to be happy,” he said. “And I know that would make you happy.”

  He looked at her and saw tears rimming the edges of her eyes. They glowed white in the moonlight.

  “You’re trying to get me into bed, aren’t you?” she asked.

  “Is it working?”

  “It’s definitely...” Flash took a step back. Her eyes went wide. Too wide.

  “What?”

  “Ian,” she whispered. “There is a giant fucking bear behind you.”

  “Shit, what?” He whipped his head around and saw nothing, absolutely nothing.

  Then he heard footsteps running in the snow.

  And laughter. So much evil laughter.

  “Made you look!” Flash called back.

  “You are in so much trouble!” he yelled, and started chasing after her.

  He heard Flash laughing all the way back to the house.

  10

  IAN TOOK OFF work early on Friday the eighteenth for the very good reason anyone takes off work early on the Friday before Christmas week—because he could, because there was nothing else to do at work since it was the week before Christmas and because he wanted to have sex with his girlfriend—the sooner, the better.

  He hadn’t been to Flash’s apartment yet and that was for good reasons, too—Flash hadn’t asked him over, and he was still working on his house every free moment he had. But work had taken him into Portland, past Flash’s apartment complex, and as they’d been officially dating and sleeping together for two weeks now, he figured he’d earned the right to show up unannounced at his girlfriend’s place to surprise her with flowers and the erection he’d been trying to keep subdued the past hour—all Flash’s fault. In general the bulk of his erections were her fault simply by existing but this one was undeniably all her doing. An hour ago he’d texted her asking if she wanted to get dinner at the Timber Ridge Lodge tonight. She’d said she would as
long as they could also get a hotel room and have sex with her tied to the bed. He’d agreed and discovered he couldn’t get a hotel room until tomorrow night, which he’d promptly booked. With that image she’d planted in his head, there was no fucking way he could wait the twenty-four hours to make that fantasy come true. He could only hope she was home and in a bondage sort of mood. He’d brought her flowers. If that didn’t do the trick, he had no idea what would, but he was willing to try begging.

  He pulled into her apartment parking lot shortly after five. The complex was nice if somewhat bland. All the buildings looked the same, but they were well-made housing blocks with nicer-than-average landscaping. The abundance of elevators and wheelchair ramps attested to the complex’s past life as a retirement complex. Flash had said her downstairs neighbor was in her late eighties. Perhaps she was a holdout from the old days.

  With his flowers in hand he walked up the stairs to Flash’s door and knocked. There was no answer. That was surprising as she hadn’t said anything about going into town today. He knocked again and waited. Nothing. He sent her a quick text asking her where she was. She replied a few seconds later with a terse Driving.

  Well, shit.

  He put the flowers outside her door. As quiet and well-managed as the place seemed, he didn’t think the flowers were at risk of being stolen. He walked back down the stairs and was on the last step when a door behind him opened.

  “Veronica, is that you?”

  Ian looked around and found a white-haired woman in a pale blue wool dress standing in a doorway.

  “Not Veronica,” he said. “I was just looking for her. She went out, I guess.”

  “She did,” the elderly woman said. “I thought she’d come home and I’d missed her. I need her help with something.”

  “Can I help you?” Ian asked. “I’m her boyfriend.”

  The older woman smiled and her eyes sparkled with mischief.

  “Ian Asher. I should have recognized you. Your hair’s gotten too long. Would you like me to cut it for you? I always cut my boys’ hair.”

  “Thank you but that’s okay. I’m getting it cut tomorrow.”

  “Oh, yes, the Christmas party is Sunday, isn’t it? You do have to look nice for that. Your father’s announcing his reelection campaign, isn’t he?”