by Aston, Jana
“Keep going,” I breathe into his ear, sliding my hands around to his ass to encourage him to slide deeper. I know he’s holding back, observing my every sigh and blink and moan to see where I’m at. To torture me or drag out the pleasure, I’m not sure.
“Jesus, this is—” He cuts himself off on a hiss as he pushes forward until his pelvis is flush against my own. I love the feel of him on top of me. The way we fit together, the brush of his chest hair against my nipples. The tangle of our legs and the feel of his back under my hands.
When he starts a smooth, slow rhythm I love that even more.
Best Christmas bonus ever.
He hitches one of my legs up, spreading me wider and angling deeper, hooking my knee into the crook of his elbow. Then he drives deep and long, withdrawing until only the tip of him remains joined with me. Again. Again.
I’m a squirming mess of feelings and sensation and holy hell, this guy is like the unicorn of perfect lays.
“Fuck, Noel.” He breathes the words, his forehead pressed to mine as my hips roll up to meet his every thrust.
“I know,” I groan. “It’s so good,” I tell him. “Don’t stop, don’t stop.”
I should be careful what I ask for because he doesn’t stop. He drags me up to the point of orgasm and then pulls back until the reward of release is just out of reach, but the pressure builds each time higher and higher until I’m nearly afraid to come. Afraid it will ruin me forever.
Then, finally—
Oh, God.
It’s like free-fall. Every cell of my body is alight with pleasure and I’m tightening around his cock so hard it’s almost painful, but like the most pleasurable pain you’ve ever felt in your life. My thighs are quivering and the aftershocks go on and on, my pussy pulsing around the hard length of him like it never wants to stop. It feels like there is nothing else in the entire world except Teddy and me in this bed.
Then he rubs his thumb over my clit as he jerks into me with a final thrust, his eyes on mine as he comes with a grunt that’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard in my life. I wrap my arms around his neck, trying to pull him impossibly closer while he’s doing his best to support himself on his forearms so I can breathe. I’m not sure how he has the energy left but he flips us over so I’m on top, our bodies still joined. I sprawl across him with no regard for his ability to breathe.
“That wasn’t terrible,” I observe and below me, he laughs. A gruff exhale, the skin near his eyes crinkling in that way that is unbearably attractive on a man.
He’s beautiful.
It’s another few minutes until we can properly move. He slides me off of him and I feel the loss of him immediately. And I’m sore, in an oddly pleasant way. Swollen and well used. Is that a terrible thing to think?
He gets up and disposes of the condom then comes back to the bed with a damp washcloth and tends to me. Which is weird but hot. Maybe it’s not weird, maybe it’s a normal thing guys do, but it’s never happened to me before. I’d probably object if I wasn’t so drunk on orgasming.
Then he climbs into bed, lying on his back beside me. I’m on my stomach, head on pillow with my arms underneath, facing him. He turns his head towards me, his gaze contemplative.
“Tell me a secret.”
I’m not sure why I ask. It’s more than I need to know, isn’t it? This is just a one-night thing. I don’t need his secrets or anything else. Yet here I am. Asking. I’m not ready to fall asleep yet. I’m not ready for this night to end. And maybe I want to know a little bit more. Just a little.
The mattress moves as Teddy moves to his side, one arm propped beneath his head as he looks at me. “A secret?”
“Something dumb.”
He nods, acknowledging the challenge. “Mechanical pencils freak me out. I want them banned from society.”
“I have to keep the volume on the television on an even number because I think an uneven number is bad luck. But this only applies to the volume on the television and nothing else.”
“Whenever I’m stuck at a stoplight I add up all the numbers on the license plate of the car ahead of me.”
“When I was a kid I always ate the broken animal crackers first so the unbroken ones could live a little longer.”
“That’s pretty dark. Have you been keeping that one to yourself for a long time?” Teddy’s got a hint of a smile on his lips when he asks and he’s running his fingertips over my hip and I never want him to stop touching me.
“I know,” I agree, dragging out the word on a long sigh. “I’m quite twisted.”
“I’ll walk out of my way to avoid stepping on a manhole cover.”
“Very manly.”
“I’ll work on it.”
We play this game until my eyes are drifting closed and then I tell him my silliest secret of all.
“Sometimes I secretly pretend I still believe in Santa.”
“Pfft.” He smiles softly. “Who doesn’t?”
Chapter 6
Rolling over, I groan, keeping my eyes shut against the sunlight filtering in through my blinds. I have a series of thoughts before I even open my eyes.
1. I did a thing last night. With Jillian’s unexpectedly hot brother, Teddy.
2. Jillian’s unexpectedly hot, wildly attractive, good-in-bed brother, Teddy.
3. Jillian’s unemployed flirt of a brother whom she specifically warned me away from, Teddy.
4. The very delicious ache between my thighs reminds me that I don’t really care about Teddy’s employment status. Or who he’s related to. Perhaps I could hire him to be my sex elf, then he’d have a job and I’d have a sex elf.
5. I wonder if it would be asking too much to expect my sex elf to do laundry during the day while I’m at work and possibly also make dinner?
6. Having a sex elf would be really cool but is starting to sound a bit too much like prostitution for me to be entirely comfortable with the idea.
7. Sex elves are notoriously unreliable and best returned after one night.
8. My sex elf—I mean Teddy—is still here and I need to open up my eyes and deal with last night like an adult.
Except when I open my eyes I find I don’t want to. Deal with it, that is. I don’t want to have a conversation about how he’s just rolling through town and crashing in his parents’ basement because he’s a misunderstood creative type.
A creative type in finance. Ugh.
The Teddy I spent last night with is nothing like the Teddy Jillian described and honestly, I’d like to remember this version of Teddy.
He’s sound asleep and gorgeous. He looks so perfectly relaxed and at ease in my bed. Hair tousled from last night but in that perfectly just-fucked way that is so hot on a man. Sprawled on his stomach, arms wrapped around a pillow with his head turned in my direction. Shoulders exposed as the blankets are only drawn halfway up his back. I could lie here studying his physique all morning. I’m tempted to draw my fingertips along the muscles but I refrain lest I wake him. Dark eyelashes fan across his cheeks, his lips slightly parted, still delicious.
The thing is, he looks really peaceful. Like he needs the sleep.
I glance at the clock over his shoulder. It’s later than I thought, much later. I’m supposed to meet my sister Ginger for a bit of Christmas shopping this morning. So really, I don’t have a lot of time to talk to Teddy. Hardly any time at all.
He doesn’t stir as I slide out of bed. Nor when I get dressed more quietly than a teenager preparing a late-night escape out of their bedroom window.
Of course, I’m not going to do that. I’ll use the front door. The window would be much more likely to cause a draft and wake him up. Besides, it’d be really dramatic to use the window when the door is both available and more logical.
I’ve dressed and he hasn’t stirred an inch. I tripped over the Santa costume on my way to brush my teeth but I managed to catch myself, the only casualty a stubbed toe and a lot of silent swearing.
Still asleep.
Hm
ph.
It’d be annoying if it wasn’t convenient because clearly I’m meant to let him sleep. We all see that, right? It’s the polite thing to do. Pretty sure an advice columnist would advise to let your guest sleep in.
I can’t imagine they’d advise anyone to let their guest sleep in while they made a run for it, but you can’t win them all.
Chapter 7
“I’m in love.”
Good sweet Lord, this is going to be a long morning. This declaration comes from my sister Ginger, twirling in an actual circle as she says it.
“With who?” I ask, mostly to be contrary because that’s my job as her sister. We’ve already gotten coffees to go and now we’re walking along Main Street doing some last-minute Christmas shopping. I know damn well who she’s talking about, but she’s been denying anything is going on between them so I’m not inclined to make this easy for her.
“With who?” Ginger repeats back, and I don’t mistake the sarcasm in her tone. “With Keller. Who else would I be referring to? Did you think I picked up some random guy last night and fell in love? Honestly.” Yup. Full sarcasm.
“Keller?” I’m gonna draw this out just to mess with her. Also because she referred to picking up a random guy like it’s a bad thing. Granted, she doesn’t know that I just did exactly that, but still. It grates. “The guy you’ve been referring to as a jackal since you met him last week? The guy you’re competing against for ten thousand dollars of prize money? The guy leaving Reindeer Falls as soon as The Great Gingerbread Bake-Off is done filming? That Keller?”
She openly glares at me now.
“Yes. Him!” She scowls at me and I know she’s desperately trying to come up with some kind of modified swear word to call me because she hates to swear. I wait patiently, hoping it’ll be a good one. When she was little and Holly or I did something particularly awful to her she’d yell, “Fishsticks!” while stomping her little foot. We could never keep a straight face and she’d end up getting whatever she wanted.
“He’s going to stay for a while,” she finally adds after a long exhale. I’m actively disappointed she didn’t tell me to elf off.
“What does that mean?” We pause in front of the yarn store so I can stare her down and get the full story. I’ll toss some sisterly skepticism her way, but the thing is I’ve seen her with Keller and the guy is totally crazy about her. Only Ginger could get someone to fall in love with her in a week and if I didn’t love her I’d be really, really annoyed by her.
“He said to trust the magic,” she says, nearly doing another twirl right there on the pavement. If she were a Disney cartoon a couple of birds would appear overhead carrying little hearts made out of cranberries or some nonsense. As it is a squirrel runs past and I swear to Santa Claus he makes eye contact with her before running up a tree.
Ginger, for her part, immediately realizes her mistake and turns redder than reasonable for the temperature outside. Then she takes an inexplicably large interest in the shop window. Inexplicable because Ginger can’t knit. She can’t crochet either. The yarn crafts have always eluded her.
“The magic?” I deadpan in response, pretending to be more shocked than I am. When we were kids she tried to convince Holly and me that she had invented a magical love globe. We’ve been giving her shit about it ever since.
“Not real magic, Noel,” Ginger snaps, her chin tilted up in defiance. “Don’t be such a cynic. He just meant holiday magic.” Then she twirls off to the next storefront.
Holiday magic. Hmph. I wonder if I can blame holiday magic for my one-night stand. The one-night stand I left in my house. By himself. Who does that? Seriously, I’m such an asshole.
“I can’t deal with you right now, Ginger. I have actual real-life problems.”
“Like what?” she challenges, clearly disbelieving I’ve got anything going on at the moment.
“I slept with Santa Claus last night, for starters.”
“You did not.” I’ve got her attention now, that’s for sure. She’s staring at me, a mixture of doubt and curiosity on her face as if she’s not sure if I’m messing with her or if I’m serious.
“I did. I really did. His suit is still lying on my living room floor.” And he’s still lying in my bed because I’m a jerk. I panicked.
“His red suit?” Ginger’s face has just lit up. I’m pretty sure I’ve made her entire year with this revelation. I’m not even mad. If I was in her shoes I’d be all over this story like a kitten in a Christmas tree too.
I gnaw on my lip and wonder if Teddy’s still at my place or if he’s woken up and vacated yet. I wonder if anyone else has ever snuck out of their own house after a one-night stand or if I’ve just set the bar for weird one-night stand behavior?
“Serious question though.” Ginger interrupts my thoughts, pausing until I’ve made eye contact with her and raised my brows, indicating she should end the dramatic pause and ask her question. “How is he gonna make the rounds on Christmas Eve without his suit? He can’t slide down chimneys in his underwear. Everyone knows he needs the suit to make the entire thing work.”
My sweet baby sister manages to deliver that entire speech with a straight face, until the end, when she has to bite her lip to keep from laughing.
“I hate you,” I announce, turning on my heel and heading to the next shop. I’ve been done with my Christmas shopping since Thanksgiving like any self-respecting Christmas lover. The only thing I need is a box full of chocolates so I can stuff my feelings down my throat a hundred and sixty calories at a time .
“You should at least hang it up, don’t you think?” Ginger is hustling down the sidewalk to keep up with me so she can keep talking about this. “What if Santa doesn’t get it back in time to have it pressed? He can’t pull an all-nighter delivering presents in a wrinkled suit as if he’s on the sleigh ride of shame, Noel! Think of the children!”
She’s doubled over on the sidewalk, clutching her sides, laughing at me.
“You’re a terrible person, Ginger. I hope you get a stocking full of coal.”
“I probably will.” She stands upright, eyes full of delight. “Now that you’ve got an in with Santa.”
“You’re my least favorite sister. Also, I’m returning your Christmas present since I’ve gifted you with this story that’s so delighting you.”
“Totally fine,” Ginger agrees. “This story is going to delight me more than anything you could have bought me.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter.
“So you really had a one-night stand with some guy in a Santa suit last night?”
“Yup.” I nod. “I mean I know who he is. It’s not like I was calling him Santa all night.”
“Good to know.” Ginger nods as if she considered the possibility that I was involved in some kinky Santa fuckery. “Do you like him? Are you going to see him again?”
“I, um…” I pause, unsure how to answer. Am I? Do I? Why did I even bring him up? Why am I still thinking about him? He’s not even staying in Reindeer Falls. He’s not forever material, let alone boyfriend material.
But maybe he’s one-week material. That’s a thing, right?
Ginger and I part ways a few minutes later when we spot her new boyfriend leaving the old auto body shop at the end of Main Street and she takes off to find out what he’s up to. I reluctantly head home, already knowing what I’ll find.
Teddy’s long gone.
Chapter 8
I’m a little melancholy when I walk into work the next morning. It’s the byproduct of having the best sex of your life but not being real sure you handled it properly and also it was with your co-worker’s brother. It all adds up to a bowlful of awkward, to be honest.
But surely he didn’t tell her, right? That’s what we agreed upon. Sorta. I’m sure I mentioned it in passing, which implies some kind of binding agreement including a five-year statute of limitations.
Still, the guilt. Now I feel like I’m keeping something from her. Or lying. I hate lying. Avoiding
uncomfortable emotional situations, fine. Lying, icky.
So perhaps I can just avoid Jillian for the rest of the month?
Nah. I’m overthinking this. Jillian said Teddy is only in town temporarily. This will all blow over in a week. Still, I dawdle in my car until exactly one minute before starting time.
I’m in my office all of half a minute before Jillian bursts in.
“I am so sorry!”
I’m confused because she’s the one apologizing, not me. Not that I actually need to apologize for sleeping with her brother. We’re both grown consenting adults. But she took the time to warn me that he’s exactly not my type so sleeping with him feels sorta rude. Like I don’t value her advice. Which I do. It’s just that her brother is insanely sexy and that’ll void good advice every time.
“My brother is such an idiot. I’m so sorry.”
“He’s not that bad,” I object with a small laugh, feeling a twinge of defensiveness for Teddy. He really was nothing like the picture Jillian painted of him.
“Not that bad?” Her eyebrows are in danger of reaching her hairline. “He stood you up on Saturday. After he swore to me that he’d show up.”
“No, he didn’t.” I’m frowning as I shake my head, slowly lowering myself into my chair and tapping my keyboard to spring my computer to life. “He was here. The entire afternoon. He was an excellent Santa, by the way.”
“Uh, that’s not possible.” Jillian’s really riled up and I’m starting to feel uneasy. She’s waving her arms in the air and pacing in my office, which is never a good sign. “The little shit went to Vegas. I didn’t even realize he’d stood you up until I saw his pictures on Instagram the following morning.”
Little shit. My unease is beginning to grow as pieces of a puzzle that don’t go together are trying to arrange themselves in my mind. It also feels like a scarf of humiliation is wrapping itself around my throat. It’s really hot and itchy. Pretty sure it’s made out of synthetic materials like regret and assumption.