Page 15 of Mountain Man Santa

“You’re twenty-four, Stacey!” he half scolds, half laughs.

“I’ve only ever been with Elliott.” The ridiculousness of the statement hits me as I remain speared on my boss’s massive rod. Burying my head against his shoulder, I’m stuck between a giggle and a sob.

“What?” he asks. “Why are you laughing?”

I let go of his neck, covering my face with my hands. “I just said that, and you’re still inside of me, Jerry. What kind of girl does that make me?”

“My kinda girl,” he says, caressing my ass with his big, rough hands. “Besides, you told me yourself. This breakup is final, right?”

I nod emphatically.

“Okay, because what we just did puts a big exclamation point on things. I can put up with a lot, Stacey, but never cheating.”

“Of course,” I sigh.

“Now, back to Elliott. I knew he was a stick in the mud. But he seriously never ate you out?”

My cheeks burn. “I don’t feel comfortable talking about my past sex life with you. But if you must know, it was pretty innocent compared to what we just did.”

“Shortie, this is only the beginning.” He grimaces as he lowers me back onto my feet, sliding his large rod reluctantly out of me. I feel instantly empty and needy.

Wrapping me tightly in his arms, he rests his chin on top of my head, and my ear settles on his chest, listening to the tremendous booming sound of his heartbeat. “I know I’m messing up your elf outfit. I’ll pay for the dry cleaner or whatever. You just feel so good in my arms.”

I do feel good in his arms, incredible, in fact. My breath catches in my throat. Could this gruff, rude, bossy cook and Iwork? What he did to my body moments ago has opened a world of possibilities that I can’t get out of my mind.

But can I really get used to a guy who’s so rough around the edges? He couldn’t be more different than Elliott. To my surprise, though, I find these differences irresistible.

He clears his throat. “I want you dressed and ready to go in fifteen minutes. Your ass is mine tonight…and tomorrow night…and the night after that…as long as this blizzard lasts. Hell, I hope it goes on for a damn week because when we get back to my place, we’re making a naughty list. And then, we’re gonna mark off everything on it. You understand?”

“A naughty list? You’ve lost your mind, Jerry,” I exclaim, shaking my head.

“No, I haven’t. But I’m gonna make sure you lose yours over and over again.”

“You’re so dirty.” I smack his naked shoulder playfully.

“You have no idea,” he replies, grabbing my hand and bringing my fingers to his mouth. Sensually and playfully, he licks them one at a time as my pulse quickens. He sucks my pointer finger in and out of his mouth, swirling his tongue around it and drawing a soft moan from me. Repeating it with my other fingers, he doesn’t stop until my pulse pounds in my temples, and my heart flutters in my chest.

His face flushes, and his eyes dilate as his skillful tongue licks the spot between my pointer and middle fingers. “I’m gonna devour every single inch of you, Shortie. And then I’m gonna do it again because I can already tell. Not only are you my kinda girl. You’re my kinda taste.”

Chapter

Ten

JERRY

Striding out of the office, I walk through the darkened kitchen area, double-checking that everything’s buttoned up for the night. Stacey’s got a couple of to-go boxes in hand, and her cheeks flush as our eyes meet, sex hanging heavy in the air.

“You ready to go, Shortie?” I say softer than usual. Hell, my voice sounds downright tender.

She nods, making her caramel-colored hair bob back and forth. I open the door for her, grabbing the to-go boxes from her, and we step out into the magical quiet of the winter blizzard. Snowflakes swirl around us as I struggle to juggle the boxes and set the alarm. I barely finish it before a big, puffy ball slams into my neck right above my collar, sending a spray of ice down the inside of my coat.

“Did you seriously just—” A snowball clobbers me in the side of the face, bringing my question to a complete halt. “Alright, you’re gonna pay for that!”

Dropping the boxes, I grab a big clump of snow, taking more balls to the head and shoulders. Not only has the woman formed an arsenal of ammo, but she’s got a pretty damn good throwing arm.

“Where the hell did you learn to throw like that?” I growl, wiping another round of powder from my neck and feeling a stream of ice cascade down the side of my ribs.

She laughs, “I was a softball pitcher for the Bobcats.” The Bobcats are Hollister’s high school team.

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