Page 43 of Missiletoe
When I buy stuff online, I don't pay attention to prices because I’m usually doing a few other things at the same time. I’d rather use my brain’s processing power on important things like why my machine is superheating things rather than freezing them.
“All paid, Yarn Lady!” I shouted, then laced my fingers with Paris’s.
“My name is Carly,” Yarn Lady called back, sounding like every clerk I’d ever interacted with. Confused and flabbergasted.
I’m not sure why anyone would want a job like that if that’s how they always felt.
I didn’t bother to catch her name. Calling her Yarn Lady was good enough for me. There is always a different Yarn Lady when I go to that store, so why would I waste hard drive space on things like the names of people I never talk to?
Paris’s grumpy face was gone, and now it looked the way the sensation in my chest felt. Kind of warm, with a side of swimmy and a second side ofI don’t know what this is, but I’m not second-guessing it because holy crap, what if it goes away???
But I might have been projecting. Who knows?
Once out the door, I was ready to make for the hot chocolate cart at the end of the street, but before I had a chance to throw my body into the crowd, Paris took me by the shoulders and pressed me against the large display window outside the yarn store.
He took the little blue sweater I’d bought out of my bag and pulled it over my head. Then he took each of my arms and tucked them neatly into the armholes of the sweater. The entire time, I stood there like a moron, passively letting myself be dressed by my incredibly sexy caretaker.
I could have done it myself, but as soon as the sweater went over my head, it was like I’d been put in a trance. Staying still and letting Paris do whatever he wanted to me felt mind-numbingly good. I liked feeling good.
Seriously, who doesn’t?
So I stayed put like a good little bunny.
When Paris smoothed the material over my chest to make sure it wasn’t wrinkled, I shivered and made a little mewling sound.
He took his hands away, and I waited for the drug-like trance to fade, but then he started putting my new mittens on me too, and all the good feelings swirling around inside me intensified twofold, creating delicious tingles that coursed through my body. I held out both hands and let him tug each mitten onto me, melting a little more each time he tucked one of my thumbs gently into the thumbhole of a mitten.
That was the moment I realized that Paris owned me, mind, body, and soul.
“Lift these for me, okay?” Paris pulled my arms up without waiting for me to respond, but when he released them, I left them hanging in the air. I didn’t know why he wanted it, but I was prepared to leave them there forever if he wanted me to.
He reached for the hem of my new sweater, and sue me, but I fully believed he was about to do wonderfully naughty things to me right there in front of God and everyone. I wasn’t disappointed when he didn’t. Really, I wasn’t.
Well, maybe a little.
Instead of undoing my jeans and reaching for my very interested dick, he simply lifted up my sweater until he found my bunched-up shirttail and pulled it out of the bottom. Then he pulled the collar of my shirt out of the neck hole of my sweater and adjusted it to his liking.
“There. Now, you’re perfect.”
“Perfect,” I repeated in a breathless tone, but I was talking about him, not me.
Paris really is the definition of perfect in my book. I think if someone tried to take him from me, I’d go straight-up Victor Von Doom on the whole world.
I think by now that you know I could if I really wanted to. I’ve just never had a reason to before.
But Paris didn’t know I was evil yet. Or that my family was full-on, halfway to deciding to take over the world, bugnuts crazy. I mean, we were pretty sneaky about it, so there was no way Paris would have noticed.
It wasn’t like we had an Evil Incorporated logo on our front door. Apple had it too filled up with his psycho Adam safety rules for it to even fit, and the one I’d made for Gareth’s office as a joke was small and subtle, so I doubted Paris had even seen it.
But you know what? I didn’t want to think about that right then. Not when my brain was still dizzy from Paris doing Paris things to me.
No, I only wanted more Paris things to happen. Basically, until the end of time.
However, being the smart man I was, I’d take what I could get in the moment and build from there. So I dug into my pockets, then pulled them out again, because jeez, it’s really hard to stuff bemittened hands into pockets, folks. Did you know?
My new mittens had a cool feature to them, though, where you can unbutton a little flappy bit and free your fingers to do important finger things. Kind of like a Transformer, but if it was a mitten.
So I freed my fingers and retrieved the matching mittens I’d grabbed for Paris and stuffed them onto his hands too. My hands were shaky from feelings and lust, and possibly some other things I didn’t have a name for, so I wasn’t as gentle with Paris as he was with me.
