Sixteen
Maddie
LUST CHRISTMAS
PIPER: Wait what?!?! OMG LOL SERIOUSLY?! You are in Ohio with Declan RN? I knew it! I knew you guys would HEA!!!
ME: Calm down. It’s a work thing. Sort of. We are not a couple, and we are definitely not HEAing. Is that a verb now?
BEX: Wow. You called it, Piper! #MACLAN
PIPER: Wait. How did you know about Maclan, Mother? I never told you.
BEX: Um. You must have. How else would I know about it?
PIPER: Aunt Maddie please get me a safe for Christmas. Or let me move in with you kthx.
BEX: I totally do not read your fanfic Piper!!! When would I even have the time?!
PIPER: How would you even know that I write fanfic if you weren’t snooping in my room?! OH MY GAWD GET A LIFE, MOTHER! AND FYI I’M TOTALLY GETTING A SPECIAL LOCK FOR MY ROOM!!!!!
ME: Happy holidays, everyone! See you in a couple of days!
BEX: Oh sure. Go have hot sex with your hot boss in Ohio and leave me with the angry thirteen-year-old why don’t you?
PIPER: Get a picture of his butt for me!!! Pretend he’s a corporate ladder and climb him like a lady boss!!!
BEX: Piper!!!!!
ME: OMG Piper!!!
ME: Okay! Kiss the baby for me! Love you bye!
I mean, I’m not going to go have hot sex with my hot boss, but they wouldn’t believe me if I’d told them that anyway.
I leave a generous tip for my waitress because it’s a pretty slow night here at the Twinstar Hotel’s restaurant. I actually got to do a little Kindle reading on my phone while I ate, so that was an unexpected benefit of this stupid trip. Not exactly worth getting up even earlier this morning to shave, but at least my hormones have normalized now. At least I’m no longer kicking myself for slapping Declan. At least I no longer want to slap him again for shutting me out.
We are clearly incompatible with each other, despite a…significant physical attraction and somewhat entertaining chemistry. And despite the fact that it was the hottest kiss of my life, and I basically had twelve orgasms when he squeezed my hips and shoved his knee between my legs and tugged on my hair and groaned in my ear and oh God I think I’m having another orgasm right now—despite all of that, he was right about one thing. We should stay away from each other until tomorrow.
I check my phone to make sure he hasn’t changed his mind and sent me a booty-text.
Nope. Good. God forbid he should pester me or do anything inappropriate when I actually secretly want him to. He’s probably in his room working, just like he said he would be. That elevator incident was probably just a blip on his radar. We’re never on the same page. And that’s that.
I’ll go back to the room, take a bath, have a night cap while I watch a movie, and get a good night’s sleep for a change. I’ll enjoy the feel of my silky shaved legs against the clean hotel sheets, and I can spread out like a starfish because my boss’s hot naked body won’t be taking up any space at all under the covers.
I might just stop by his room and knock on the door one more time to see if he needs help with anything, work-wise. Since I’m here. And to see if he’s shirtless in gray sweatpants, because I have a hunch he might be. Because gray sweatpants.
As I exit the restaurant and head to the bank of elevators, I can hear someone singing the saddest version of “O Christmas Tree” I have ever heard. But I’m impressed by the smooth and rather depressing deep voice…and strangely aroused, as I head across the lobby to the bar.
When what to my wondering eyes do appear… But my hot boss and a band spreading holiday cheer.
Or running it over with a sad sexy sled, more like.
“O Tannenbaum, O Christmas tree,
Such pleasure do you bring me”
He croons into the mic with reckless melancholic abandon, barely recognizable as the cocky corporate lawyer I know and love to hate in Manhattan.
Oh God, I broke Declan Cannavale.
I take a seat at the bar and watch in horror along with the other dozen or so customers. Only, they don’t seem to be horrified by his performance at all. They’re mesmerized. And I am too. It’s like Morrissey took a downer, put on a sexy sweater, and decided to do an impromptu show at some random bar in the Midwest. He’s just as committed to this song as he is to being infuriating and to kissing me, and now my clitoris is going to tingle every time I see a fir tree until the end of time.
He seems to be getting more and more angry with each verse, though, and when he segues into “Silent Night,” it’s like every word is a curse word. The band keeps up with him, though. He seems to be completely unaware that I’m here, and that’s probably a good thing.
Unfortunately, someone else is very aware that I’m here.
“Hello there” comes a male voice from right behind me.
Shit.
“Oh hello.”
“What’s a pretty woman like you doing alone at a bar tonight?”
“Just enjoying the entertainment,” I tell him without taking my eyes off Declan.
“I’m Bryan,” he says. “With a ‘y.’” He holds his hand out for me to shake, which I do, but I still don’t take my eyes off Declan. “What’s your name?”
“It’s Rey. Also with a ‘y.’”
“Oh yeah? I’ve got an uncle named Ray. He isn’t as good-looking as you are. I’m in town for business. Sales. What line of work are you in?”
“Me? I scavenge parts from ships and sell them.”
“So we’re both salespeople. I knew we’d have a connection.”
Ugh, I can’t talk to people who don’t watch Star Wars.
Suddenly the singing stops, and I realize Declan has dropped the mic and is storming over here, his eyes fixed on Bryan “with a y.” He gets right up in Bryan’s very surprised face, towering over him, and stares him down.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Declan hisses through gritted teeth.
“Uhh, I was just talking to my new friend Rey, here.”
“Rey?” he says, turning to me, still frowning. “Rey?” He takes a deep breath and says in a deep, serious voice, “I want you to join me. We can rule together and bring a new order to the galaxy.”
Shit. Declan Cannavale watches Star Wars. Now I really can’t hate him.
“Don’t do this, Ben,” I quote flatly. “Please don’t go this way.”
“Hey man, I didn’t realize you two were together. She didn’t say anything.”
“Oh, she didn’t?” Now his wrath is entirely focused on me. “Interesting. Why’s that, girlfriend?”
Bryan “with a y” quietly slinks away, unnoticed.
“I just hadn’t gotten around to it yet.”
Declan’s arms are on either side of me, his hands gripping the edge of the counter that’s pressing against my back. “Unacceptable,” he mutters. He smells like whiskey and honey and so much testosterone. Seriously, I think his facial hair just grew half an inch while he was trying to intimidate Bryan.
“You’re awfully uptight for a drunk Star Wars nerd.”
“Seeing you with another guy sobered me up real fast. And my niece is obsessed with Rey Skywalker,” he growls. “It’s impossible to have a conversation with her without at least a passing understanding of the Galactic Republic, Rebel Alliance, and the Resistance.”
“Sounds like my kinda girl. And you sound like a man who’s memorized the Star Wars Wikipedia page.”
He leans in even closer and whispers into my ear, “I’ve also memorized all of the related Wikipedia sub-pages.” He inhales my hair, and I’m sort of regretting that I don’t have it up tonight so he can yank it down again. “What are you doing here, Maddie?”
“Well, I was enjoying the show. Do you take requests?”
“You obviously don’t, because I requested that you stay away from me tonight.”
“Technically, you’re the one who didn’t stay away from me, because I was sitting all the way across the room from you.”
> He straightens his arms, broadens his shoulders, and we’re eye-to-eye again, and maybe, just maybe, we’re finally on the same page. For now. And that page is straight out of my niece’s fanfiction, I think, or more like the Kindle book I was reading at dinner. His nostrils are flaring. He’s staring at my mouth. “You are always, always, always problematic, Cooper.”
“Right back at you, Mr. Cannavale.”
“Goddammit,” he curses under his breath, his face slowly inching closer and closer to mine. He cradles my face with both hands, dragging the tip of his thumb across my lower lip. “Cooper,” he whispers again, as if it’s a curse word. “Cooper,” he repeats, this time like a wish. And then he abruptly drops his hands, steps back, and walks away from me. Furiously dragging his fingers through his hair as he marches out of the bar, through the lobby. He’s not marching in a perfectly straight line, but it’s difficult to tell if that’s due to the remaining alcohol in his system or the amazing thing in his pants that I felt against my leg.
And I can’t believe the bastard is walking away from me.
Again.
Not tonight.
I march on after him. The lobby is empty. My heels click against the marble floor, and I can tell that Declan can hear me coming because his back straightens. Everything about that man is stiff, but he doesn’t turn to face me.
I slip inside the elevator with him just as the doors are about to close. When he finally turns around, I push him against the wall of the elevator, cup my hands around the back of his neck, and bring him in for a kiss. A furious kiss. I let my lips and tongue tell him all the things I’ve already told him with words, but I’ve had it with words. I’ve had it with this man, and I’ve had it with not giving myself to him.
His hands are in my hair, and he meets my exasperated kisses with calm, controlled kisses that are even more maddening. He tugs on my hair, pulling my face away from his, and asks, “Have you been drinking?”
“You’re going to drive me to drink even more if you stop kissing me right now.”
“I want you to want this, Maddie.”
“You’re covered legally, now that I’m attempting to seduce you as predicted,” I taunt. “What do you care?”
“Tell me you want me.” The way he says it, it’s an order, and for once, I am loving this bossy tone.
“I want you, Declan.” He loosens his grip so I can lean in and take his earlobe between my teeth, tugging and then sucking on it, and then I whisper into his ear: “I want you to do and say every filthy thing you’ve ever wanted to do and say to me.” The deep, guttural sound he makes is so satisfying. “And I’m going to do the same. To you.”
His hands are on my hips now. “Fucking hell, I’m going to split you in two.”
My hand slips to the glorious bulge in his pants. “Fuckin’ A. I’m going to ride you like a one-horse open sleigh.”
When the elevator doors open, he grabs my hand and pulls me down the hall, toward his room. “You should have let me walk away from you,” he mutters.
“You should have let me into your room this afternoon. I would have really given you something to sing about.”
“Oh, you already have. Believe me.” He slides the key card through the slot, so aggressively, way too quickly. The light turns red. “Fuck.” He does it again, with exactly as much force and speed. “Fuck.”
“Let me do it.”
“I got it.”
“No. You don’t.” I take the key card from him, slide it gently through the slot, and calmly hand it back to him. “Don’t you dare be that gentle with me tonight.”
He shoves the door open and pats me on the butt. “Get your ass in there, succubus. Now.”
I hiss at him like a cat as I pass by him, throwing my purse into the room.
He stares me down, just like he did with whatshisname at the bar.
When he shuts the door, he wastes no time tugging off his shoes and pulling his sweater off over his head, tossing everything to the floor. He is not wearing an undershirt. He is a God damn work of art.
Mentally, I am nodding and slow clapping like it’s the end of an 80s teen underdog sports movie. But my body language is very convincingly telling him that I see this kind of thing all the time. I cross my arms in front of my chest and frown. “Wow. So you have a naked torso. What else ya got?”
Seventeen
Declan
O COME, ALL YE FAITHFUL
Oh, I’ll show you what else I got, Cooper.
I start unbuckling my belt. I’m still just inside the door of this terrible hotel room, and she’s backlit by the horrible lamps, but she’s so fucking beautiful and so fucking aggravating. Standing there, with her arms crossed in front of that chest. She did as I told her to and changed out of that wicked sweater dress, but she’s still wearing those black tights and those black high-heeled boots.
“What is that you’re wearing?” I ask as I let my pants drop to the floor.
The widening eyes and the gasp, as she gets a preview of what I’ve got, is so satisfying, but I keep my boxer briefs on. She’s going to have to wait to see the goods.
She smooths down the front of that dress, clearing her throat. “It’s a wrap dress.”
“That’s the kind of dress my granny wears,” I say as I close the distance between us. Because I can’t go one more second without touching her. “How do you look hot in this?” I trace the edge of the deep V neckline with my fingertip, from her collarbone, all the way down. She shivers, and that is also satisfying.
“I look even hotter out of it.” She says it like it’s a dare. As if I didn’t already have big plans for getting her out of it. As if I’m not constantly picturing her naked, no matter what she’s wearing.
“Devil woman.” I graze my palms across her hard nipples as I reach down to grip the sides of her dress, kissing her once, and then pull the thing off over her head in one swift motion. And God damn. God. Damn. She does look even hotter out of it.
That fucking black lacy bra. Those fucking black lace panties under those fucking see-through tights. All that smooth skin. All those evil curves. I don’t have an artistic bone in my body, but I want to stick a rose stem in her mouth and then paint and sculpt her. I want to write a cheesy love song about those spectacular tits.
“Are you going to stare at me all night, or are you actually going to do something interesting for a change?”
That fucking mouth.
There’s that hint of Staten Island again.
I back her up two steps, to the dresser, so she has something to grab on to because she’ll need it. I get a good grip on the waistband of her tights and rip those fuckers apart as I drop to my knees before her. Satisfying doesn’t even begin to describe how it feels when they actually come apart, tearing down the middle and along the insides of her creamy white thighs.
“Was that really necessary?” she asks—her voice, everything trembling.
“No. But it was fucking awesome.”
Merry fucking Christmas to me!
I squeeze her ass and blow warm breath over her clit through the lace. Her arousal is evident, even before I touch her between her legs. She squeezes her thighs together so tight. I will never be able to torment her as thoroughly as she has tormented me for two months, but I will have a jolly old Saint Nick of a time trying. With the pad of one thumb, I massage her clit in small, firm circles, and she is so wet for me I could cry.
She’s whimpering, trembling harder now, trying to keep it together. But I know what the anticipation is doing to her. I know what it’s doing to me. And I know exactly how much longer I can go without being inside her, and it’s not very long.
I push the black lacy triangle of her panties to the side, and fuck me under the mistletoe, she’s shaved bare as the North Pole and this is the best Christmas present anyone has ever given me.
“You are a devious, wonderful woman.”
“I know.” She raises one leg to rest the back of her knee on my shoulder. She makes the
heel of her boot dig into my back for a second, and I like it. Naughty girl.
I punish her with my tongue.
I thank her with my fingers.
I worship her with my mouth.
She serenades me with sweet, heavenly sighs and moans and curses that would make a drill sergeant blush.
I decide to serenade her a little with my Irish tongue again, see if it has any effect this time. “You’re a feckin’ stunner, Maddie Cooper, and your fanny tastes like heaven. I’d feast on you for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”
She tenses up, shivers, and goes limp for a second.
Feck yeah, Irish.
“Devil tongue,” I think she mumbles.
One of her hands is in my hair, tugging and combing, and I would stay here like this for half an hour if it were the second or third time I’d had her. But it’s the first. I won’t let it be the only. I will take her as many ways as I can tonight, as soon as I make her come once or twice right now.
Lazy swirling, rapid fluttering, determined flicking, relentless tongue-fucking, and well-timed clit sucking does the job efficiently and effectively. She surrenders to me, and we are both rewarded with her shudders and rhythmic contractions, convulsing as she groans and frantically cries out. A dirty, delectable fallen angel.
I don’t know what it is about this woman that makes me extra Catholic, but I believe, I believe, I believe.
When she is limp and sighing, I stand up and carry her with me to deposit her onto the massive bed. I do not regret not being gentle, because she bounces magnificently, and she knows it. She smirks at me, lies back on her elbows, and lifts her foot up to rest on my chest. I unzip her boots, pulling them off, one by one, tug off what’s left of those black tights.
A Very Bossy Christmas Page 8