Page 53 of Better Not Pout
She snorts and lifts a brow. “But I’m not wrong about your secret kink. Do I need to remind you about last night?”
Heat licks at my spine as I recall it, and honestly? I’m ready to go back to the cabin for a repeat.
All night long.
“Not my fault you have a perfect pussy that I just want to keep shoving my cum back inside. Fuck, now I’m going to have a hard-on during this damn wrapping competition,” I mutter, drawing another laugh from her. “I’m ready to spend the night buried inside of you, baby. Let’s leave. Right now.”
She rises on the tips of her toes and lifts her mouth to mine, grazing my lips in a whisper of a kiss, then says, “Sorry, no can do. I’ve got a competition to win.”
Then she turns back to my family, those hips swaying in those tight pajama pants, leaving me with half a hard-on. And wondering how the fuck I am ever going to go back to the way it was before.
twenty
. . .
Rosalie
Deck the Halls… or Your Ex-Boyfriend
I findmyself wishing that I were currently back in Cedar Ridge, having fun with Wells and his family, and not in the kitchen at Sweet Sullivan’s.
Three days ago, I was having incredible, mind-blowing sex and laughing until my stomach hurt.
But now, I’m two seconds away from having a full-blown panic attack, which honestly should be a crime when surrounded by so much festive Christmas cheer.
I’m the problem, it’s me.
No, actually, my asshole of an ex-boyfriend is the problem, but either way, I’m stuck dealing with it when it’s the last thing on the planet I want to be doing right now.
Especiallyduring Christmas.
In turn, it’s making me feel a bit like the Grinch.
Huffing out a frustrated sigh, I throw the towel onto the counter and drop my head back on my shoulders, peering up at the ceiling as I contemplate life.
Of all days for my grandparents to be out sick, it would be today. The day that I’m set to deliver an ungodly amount of candy for Bradley’s engagement party, which I still have so much to do for.
And the party is in… less than eight hours.
I’m so screwed. Actually, I’m Scrooged.
I hate that Grams and Gramps are sick with the flu, not only because I really, realllllly need their help prepping for the engagement party, but because I’m worried about them. It makes me distracted.
Hence, the finger that I burned earlier this morning, which I currently have wrapped with tape as a makeshift bandage.
Kennedy’s in Strawberry Hollow for the weekend with her parents, which leaves me without reinforcements to finish everything up by myself.
I feel my phone vibrate in the back pocket of my jeans for the third time in the last few minutes, so I pull it out and check the notifications.
All texts from Wells.
A smile flits to my lips when I see his name, and a flurry of butterflies dances in my stomach.
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him since we got back to Mistletoe Falls. All of my thoughts are filled with that giant of a man, his wicked tongue, and filthy words.
God, I didn’t even know sex could be like that. Be that good.
And it’s not just the sex. It’shim.
