Page 18 of The Christmas Mittens
When I calmly exited the work area, Anders was stirring some sugar into his coffee, his sight flicking to me. “I hope you don’t mind me coming to visit every day?”
“No, of course not.” I wasn’t about to tell him I now got a half boner whenever the bells rang at work because I’d hoped it was him coming in. I never knew a dick could have a Pavlovian response, but there it was. “I enjoy your company.”
“And I yours. It’s rather lonely at the campgrounds, although Della and I did see several whitetails today on our walk. They seem to come to the pond to drink where the water flows in and the ice is open. They’re so lovely. We don’t have any deer in Östermon since it’s an island, but I have seen red and roe deer in Norway. Oh! And a moose when I visited Canada as a teenager. I do love your whitetails, though. Della, being a mighty hunter, thought she would like to chase them down, but we turned around and left them be. She seems to forget that her breed was created to be ratters and not deerhounds.”
I laughed softly. Dogs were so funny and, yes, foolishly brave at times. “She’s quite the fierce one.”
“Oh yes, eight pounds of fury.” He passed me a mug of coffee, which I added some creamer to. Sliding behind the little table, my arm brushed his, and it sent another jolt of desire to my already plump cock. “So, I thought I might ask a favor? I know we’ve just met, and it’s rather forward of me to appeal to you as you and your daughter have already been so kind to me and my dog…”
I looked up from my coffee and fell into dark brown eyes. God he was just the prettiest thing I had seen in many years. Yes, he had secrets. And if I were a good sleuth, I would not allow myself to be distracted by rosy cheeks, plush lips, and soulful chocolateeyes. You never sawBanacekacting a fool over a man. No way. George Peppard was all business. George didn’t get giddy or pop woodies at the sight of blue Prada or brown curls.
“I’m happy to do any kind of favor that you might need,” I allowed to fall out of my mouth as I found little specks of light brown amid his mocha irises.
He wet his lips. I stirred so hard that hot coffee splashed over the handle of my mug, jarring me from my dreamy state. “Ouch, damn. Hot coffee is hot.” I released the mug to shake my hand.
“Be careful,” he warned, reaching out to pluck my hand from the air. “Did you burn yourself? I once saw a cook get a very bad burn from scalding water.”
He held my hand gently, turning it this way and that, as my cock went from semi-rigid to hard enough to drive a fence post in zero point one tenth of a second. He smelled of wind, sweat, and that expensive cologne he wore. His fingers were still in his cycling gloves, but I could feel the warmth seeping through to my skin.
“I’m…good, it’s good,” I coughed out, unwilling to pull my hand free or to even move an inch. He nodded, his gaze leaving my hand to touch my face. “I’m not…is this…what favor did you want?”
His grip on my hand tightened slightly, and then he hit me with that regal bow and kiss to the knuckles thing that he had done with Gilda. A nervous giggle bubbled out of me before I could stop it. Those lips…holy hell, they were soft. Warm. And far too tempting to be touching my flesh in any manner. My prick was now throbbing painfully. I inched closer to the little square table holding the pot, sugar, and creamer to hide my erection.
“It looks fine. I would hate to see such skilled hands harmed in any way,” he whispered, his gaze locked with mine now.
A dirty reply was right there, sitting on the tip of my tongue. I knew I should bite it back, but holy shit, this man was gorgeous. He had just kissed my scarred knuckle, and I was pretty sure that constituted flirting. Before my killjoy, somber side could throttle the temptation to reply in kind, I let my reply fly free. Like a bird, it soared out of me.
“You’d be amazed what I can do with my hands.”
A slim eyebrow rose on his brow. “I look forward to finding out sometime.”
Oh shit. Yeah, me too. Now would be fine. Sure, my fingers smelled of grease, gas, and porcupine dander—did porcupines even have dander, and who would dare to get close enough to find out—but I was down to show him just how quickly I could unscrew a spark plug, unsolved mystery be damned.
I’ll never be sure which of us made the first move. Could have been Anders, could have been me, could have been both of us. Not sure it mattered because as soon as my lips found his, who did what was inconsequential. The rest of the world slipped out of existence. The sound of the wood stove fan clicking on and off fell into nothingness as his lips moved over mine. I turned to face him, sliding into an embrace that felt like coming home after a long deployment. Anders was timid at first, almost shy, but I was just the opposite. Perhaps he’d not had the sexual drought I had experienced. Probably not. The man was stunning.
I licked his lips. He opened with a soft sigh that unfurled bands of tightly held need one by one. The rivets popped as each ferrous belt flew open. Was I being too bold, too hungry? Maybe he would pull away when my hands found his lean hips. I licked into his mouth, driven by lust, and was met with a kiss that rocked me back into a display case of weed eater string, goggles, and ear protection. He tasted of sweetened coffee. His tongue moved over mine as he pinned me to the case. Something hit thefloor. A spool of string, perhaps. Didn’t know and didn’t care. All I cared about was his mouth on mine and the hot length of his hard dick rubbing into mine. His hips rolled. My fingers bit into his sides, digging into his ribs and then falling back to his lumbar. He rocked into me, tongues tangled, breaths ragged.
“I need more,” I gasped when he bent his head to suck on my neck. He bit down softly, pushed his knee between my legs, and began humping. “Ah hell, Anders, yes.”
I grabbed his ass, threw my head to the side to give him access to my throat, and let my eyes close. My balls drew up quickly. “Fuck, close…sorry…so long…” I panted and felt that hot white burst at the base of my spine spark and detonate. My dick kicked as I blew apart, filling my shorts with cum like a green teenager. He grunted as my grip on his ass tightened, his teeth on my jugular. Stiffening in my arms and his glutes contracting, I held him to me as he came a mere moment after me. He lowered his brow to my shoulder as he rode out his orgasm. I let go of his ass and threaded my fingers into those lank but glorious curls. They felt like satin on my fingers, even if they were still damp with perspiration.
“Oh hell,” he huffed and nosed my flannel shirt aside to kiss my clavicle. A shudder ran through me as I moaned with pleasure. Oh yes, that was a hot spot for me. With a grunt, he laved that area as I trembled and cooled, the intensity chilling a bit. I didn’t let go of him, though. I wanted to hold on to him and this moment when he realized that I had been a jerk. I’d not asked consent. He hadn’t either, but still…“That was the most erotic moment of my life. I knew kissing you would be life changing.”
It took a moment for what he said to carve its way through the fog of satiated desire clouding my brain. I pulled back as far as I could with the debris shield of a weed eater biting into the back of my skull. He raised his head after dropping one last kiss on mycollarbone. Our eyes met. I saw nothing but sincerity in his gaze, which robbed me of most of my senses.
“You look surprised to hear me say such a thing,” he whispered, cupping my face with his hands, still gloved.
“I am. I’m not exactly the sort of man that inspires other people to grand erotic gestures,” I confessed, feeling oddly out of sorts now that the passion had been spent and my shorts were wet.
“I disagree. You are charming, kind, a good father, an accepting soul, and have the most beautiful eyes and collarbone I have ever seen.” He led my lips back to his. I didn’t put up any kind of fight. I longed to kiss him more, again, forever. “Please forgive me. I keep taking liberties without getting your consent to do—”
I kissed him into silence, tightening my grip on his curls to keep his mouth over mine.
“I want you to kiss me,” I admitted, feeling the bite of embarrassment creeping up my neck to flush my cheeks. It really wasn’t macho to admit you wanted to be kissed or held or loved. But I did—desperately. And while I had no clue as to why this magnificent man wanted me, I was not foolish enough to push him away. “I love it. I’ve been dreaming of it since you walked in here for the first time to get mittens.”
His dark eyes twinkled with delight. “Oh, Mitchell, I have felt very much the same. May I be totally honest with you?”
“Yes, of course.” A trickle of worry danced up my spine. If this was where he confessed to killing his business partner with a dart gun filled with venom from a lion fish and was using me and the church to launder his dirty money through large donations, I was going to be very upset at myself for not being a better sleuth.
