Page 29 of Unwrapped

“Arrrrghhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” I’m sticky. Hot and unsatisfied. The digits on the alarm clock glow red: four a.m...

My fists beat the pillow as I rollover, pissed at the throbbing ache between my thighs. Well hell. I won’t be able to sleep until I take care of it.

Fumbling through my suitcase, I find the vibrator. It’s nine inches of heaven. I straddle it, slowing taking in every inch until it’s firmly planted inside me. Rolling my hips, I pinch my nipples, pretending I’m riding my mountain man.

In less than three minutes, I throw my head back coming like a hurricane. Finally sated, I slump against the pillows dreaming his thick arm is thrown across my waist. I just need to find him. I blink, face turned toward the window where the blue-black sky fades into the whisper of the coming dawn. He’s out there somewhere. I’m sure of it.

Maybe I am a man-crazy whore. But I don’t care. I want what I want and Sally’s right; I won’t apologize or pretend otherwise any damn more.

5

DARE

“THIS THING IS MAKING MY BALLS ITCH.”

“Stop,” Devon smacks my forearm. “Santa can’t be seen scratching his balls.”

“I really hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Well,” I sigh, “you do make a better omelet than Rog does.”

“I heard that,” he growls, entering the small supply room behind Luce’s art gallery.

“God, his ego is huge.”

“…isn’t the only thing about me that’s huge,” Rog smacks her ass.

“Just admit that you’re not king of the kitchen.”

“Nope. I’m the best goddamn cook in the county. I could kick Iron chef’s ass.” He cracks his knuckles and rolls a shoulder.

“Seriously, babe?” She rolls her eyes. I glance between the two of them and fiddle with the buckle on these friggin’ pants.

“You know it’s true wench.”

She quirks an eyebrow, “Is that anyway to speak to your baby mama?”

He sputters. Stops mid-retort with his mouth hanging wide. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me,big daddy.”

He swoops her up in his arms and swings her around. Neither of them notice me holding the beard and felt hat in my hands as I leave. Witnessing their private moment was awkward as shit. But I guess she just couldn’t wait to tell him.

“Stop right there.”

A sexy, pixie steps in my path. “Hello, Luce.” Luce married Smith, the Prez of Creed, the summer before but I don’t know how he landed her. She’s too good for him and we all know it.

“You can’t be seen. It’ll ruin everything. Santa is kinda the main draw tonight.”

“Fuck me.”

“Tssk. That’s not very Santa like, Dare. There’s already a line fifty kids deep waiting to sit on your lap and tell you what they want for Christmas.”

“Christ. I need a drink.”

She hands me a bottle of water.

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