by Jana Aston
“You’re a lot of fun, Noel.”
“Agreed,” I say with a straight face. “A half-naked woman telling bad Christmas jokes is every man’s fantasy, am I right? Wait, unless…” I drag out the pause, a dramatic frown covering my face. “Unless bad Christmas jokes are your fetish?”
“They are now. Though I’ll admit, I do like the idea of you on Santa’s naughty list.”
“I’m quite naughty.”
“Are you?”
“You’re here, aren’t you?” I rake my nails playfully across his chest with just enough pressure to elicit a small sigh from his lips.
“Fair point.”
Chapter 6
We move things to my bedroom after I ask Teddy if I can see his North Pole. Honestly, I’m not sure why he hasn’t run out the door yet either, but you do what you gotta do to get laid, I suppose.
“You’re really into Christmas,” Teddy observes with a slow glance around my bedroom. I’ve got snowflake sheets on the bed. To be fair, I had no idea I was having company tonight or I’d have changed them. I’ve also got a solid red cover on my duvet and a big white cable-knit blanket across the foot of the bed. And a bedroom tree. Totally normal. It’s just a three-footer, but I like to fall asleep to the tree lights.
“This is nothing. My family is really into the holidays.”
“That sounds nice.”
“Yeah, it is.” My mom might be a little over the top about Christmas but I appreciate all the memories and traditions I have from my childhood.
“Is that how you ended up with the name Noel?”
“Yup.”
“What’s your middle name? Mistletoe?” He’s teasing but he has no idea how close he is.
“No, that’s Holly’s middle name. Mine is Eve.”
“You have a sister named Holly Mistletoe?”
“And another one named Ginger Spice.”
“Stop it.”
“I’d never lie about such a thing.” I laugh.
“I suppose holiday sheets are tame, all things considered,” he agrees, taking another look around my room before hitting the light switch and stretching out beside me on the bed. There’s enough light from the bedroom tree to make him out clearly, but not too much to kill the mood. Bedroom tree for the win.
“How does Santa stay STD-free?” I’m unbuckling his pants as I ask, and I really hope I can get to the punchline without laughing.
“Tell me.”
“He always wraps his package before shoving it down the chimney.” My cheeks hurt from trying to hold back the laugh. Teddy groans but I don’t think it’s because of my bad joke. I think it’s because I’ve got his pants undone and I’m palming him through his briefs.
The next thing I know I’m flipped onto my back and Teddy’s taken over. I guess joke time is over. Hallelujah.
He’s kissing me and sliding my leggings over my hips, which is a really effective way to get me to stop telling bad Christmas jokes. Or saying much of anything at all. I kick them free from my ankles once Teddy’s got them past my knees. My panties follow suit. Then he finishes the job I started by removing his pants, but before I can get my hands on him he’s working his way down. Lips, neck, breast, navel—oh, my, yes.
I’m ridiculously slick already and growing more so with every press of his lips headed south. When he flickers his eyes upward to look at me from between my legs I’m sure I’ll come from a single tease of his tongue. He’s absurdly good-looking. Caramel-brown eyes framed by thick dark lashes. Strong jaw. And those freaking lips. Yes, oh, God, right there. I arch my back and grab the bedsheets in a fist in each hand, and all the tension from my shoulders eases as my legs fall open wider. He takes the opportunity to place one of my knees over his shoulder while pressing my other leg farther into the mattress, which is so freaking hot. Like he wants to make a feast of me and he’s just getting comfortable.
When he smiles at me from between my legs I am done for. He drags his tongue through my core and I roll my hips in response. Then he rims my entrance with a fingertip before pressing it inside and flicking my clit with his thumb. I squeeze my eyes shut on a long exhale before snapping them back open again. The view is too good not to enjoy.
“Talk to me,” he instructs before replacing his thumb with his lips. “Tell me what you like.”
“You’re already doing everything I like,” I respond, but it comes out all funny and breathless. “Keep going.”
He smiles and I immediately add the sensation of Teddy smiling with his lips pressed against my clit to the list of things I like. Then he nips at me with his teeth while sliding a second finger inside of me and I explode. My thighs shake and my back arches while Teddy manipulates his fingers inside of me, dragging the orgasm on for what feels impossibly long, a succession of “oh, oh, ohs” falling from my mouth because full words are more than I’m capable of at present. His thumb is rubbing circles on my clit while he’s pressing kisses on the inside of my thigh and holy Jesus, has it ever been this good? Ever? He’s reading me like I’ve left an instruction manual on the nightstand. Responding to every twist of my hips, every gasp of breath from my lips.
When he’s wrung out every last bit of pleasure from my body he places a final kiss on my abdomen and climbs over me, the weight of his cock heavy against my stomach as he presses his lips against mine, still wet with me.
God, that’s hot.
I reach between us to wrap my hand around the heavy length of him. He’s rock-hard. Thick and hot in my hand and he grunts when I lightly squeeze him with my hand.
I’m going to feel every inch of him. In the very best way.
I run the head of his cock through my wetness while stroking him from root to tip while he whispers filthy things in my ear about how hard I’m making him. I’ve never felt so sexy or desirable in my life. When he grabs a condom and sheathes himself, I’m ready. So, so ready.
“Stop begging, you little minx.” Teddy grins at me between kisses and the way he says it makes me laugh. I don’t think I’ve ever had this much fun in bed before. I’ve never equated naked plus laughing as a good thing before.
Also, yeah, I might have been begging.
I’ve never felt so greedy for someone’s cock, but I’m positively throbbing for it. Wet and achy and needy and I want him right the hell now. I tug his face to mine and kiss him while flexing my hips underneath him, trying to get whatever friction I can wherever I can get it.
Then finally, blessedly, he’s there. Right there where I want him. He nudges the head of his cock just inside of me and I exhale and relax around him because as wet as I am, he’s big. Another inch and I’m rising to meet him even as I’m adjusting to the feel of him. The delicious warm girth of him. Oh, holy help me, he feels so good.
“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 does
n’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 7
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.
Hmph.
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 8
“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.