Her Pretend Christmas Date

by Jackie Lau

  “You ready?” he asked, pumping his fingers inside her. She was so slick for him.

  “What does it feel like?” There was less sass in her voice now, but still.

  He thrust his cock inside her, as deep as he could.

  She parted her lips, looking shocked at how good it was. But to be sure, he whispered in her ear, “How’s that?”

  She simply nodded. Kept nodding until he pulled out and pushed into her again.

  He kissed her lips, not only so she wouldn’t make too much noise, but because he was desperate for all he could have of her.

  He shifted his mouth to her breast and cupped her ass with his hand, molding her against him. Amazed at how well they fit together. Then he was back to kissing her lips, wishing he could have his mouth on multiple places at once. She turned her head away as she clenched around him, and he continued pumping furiously into her until his own orgasm took him by surprise. He barely managed to bite back his cry.

  He pulled out a moment later and held her from behind, breathing heavily against her shoulder. Perhaps he ought to be worrying about whether people had heard them, or wondering what had come over him and what this meant.

  But he couldn’t focus on any of that. He could only focus on Julie, in his arms.

  “You good?” he asked. “After...”

  “After you fucked my brains out?”

  Because he thought it would make her smile, he repeated her words. “Yeah, after I fucked your brains out.”

  She did chuckle, which was lovely.

  “You didn’t think I had it in me, did you?” he said.

  “No, I really didn’t. Until this afternoon.” She wiggled her ass back against him. “You know, it isn’t very comfortable on the floor. You want to share the bed with me tonight?”

  Chapter 8

  When Julie awoke, Tom was sitting at her desk, and he was already dressed. Pants, sweater, collared shirt, tie. She felt a rush of affection at the sight of his tie.

  Geez, what was wrong with her?

  She squeezed her thighs together as she remembered what he’d been like last night, underneath all those proper clothes.

  Was he like that in bed with every woman? Or was she special?

  And why did that even matter?

  She’d had a reasonable amount of sex over the years when she was single. It didn’t mean she wanted a relationship with the guy. She simply enjoyed sex.

  But this did not feel simple.

  What did it mean to him? And did he regret it?

  He hadn’t noticed she was awake, so she took a moment to examine him. It looked like he was sewing—what could he possibly be sewing?

  She just wanted to kiss him again. She might have thought his lips were a little thin when they first met, but now she thought they were perfect.

  “Good morning,” he said, turning toward her.

  He seemed like Regular Tom, not the guy who’d kissed her everywhere last night.

  For a moment, she wondered if it had been a dream, but then he came over and sat on the side of the bed. He rested his hand on her shoulder, and it was like...her body remembered him.

  “Did you sleep well?” she asked.

  He smiled. “Yes. Even if you kicked me once.”

  “Did not!” she said, even though she probably had. But it was instinct to contradict him.

  Except now when she contradicted him, he rubbed his thumb over her skin.

  “I don’t regret anything,” she said. “Just to be clear. We slept together. No big deal.”

  He merely nodded before returning to the desk.

  “What are you sewing?” she asked.

  He tied a knot, then held up her koala hat. “I noticed one of the ears was falling off, so I fixed it.”

  “You just happened to have a sewing kit in your suitcase?”

  “Of course. I always bring it for overnight trips.”

  Her heart melted a little. It was so like Tom. “Thank you.”

  Finished with her hat, he started folding up his dirty clothes from last night.

  He wore briefs. She knew that much now. She was used to sleeping with men who wore boxers, or perhaps boxer briefs, but it seemed right that he wore briefs. It matched his ties, somehow.

  What if he wore just underwear and a tie?

  She suppressed a giggle.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked.

  “You fold your dirty clothes.”

  He put them in a bag with a drawstring, which he placed in his suitcase. “It’s a more efficient use of space.”

  “But you have lots of room in your suitcase. It’s not necessary.”

  “Habit.”

  She found so many things endearing about him. She recalled how he’d whipped out that stain remover pen at the restaurant; she now found that cute, too.

  It was truly ridiculous.

  She could not be with Tom.

  Sure, the sex had been great. Sure, he didn’t have sex the way he did everything else in life...but that was the problem. His lifestyle was incompatible with hers. He’d probably try to organize her life, and she’d chafe at his attempts. He might try to change her in the same way her parents did.

  He’d likely imagined being with a woman who was an accountant or engineer or similar. Something more respectable. He’d never said that, but it was easy to picture him bringing a mild-mannered accountant home to meet his parents.

  Not someone like her.

  But last night...

  They were just having a little fun while they were on vacation. That was how she’d think of it. Maybe they’d sleep together tonight, but once they got back to Toronto, she’d probably never see him again.

  She tried to ignore the hard lump in her stomach.

  * * *

  Tom thought Julie seemed less spirited today, even if she’d assured him she had no regrets. Her parents had left to go Boxing Day shopping by the time they’d made it downstairs, so they’d spent the morning cleaning up the kitchen and playing mahjong with Mike and Charlotte, who’d since gone out for a walk.

  He should enjoy it. Julie wasn’t giving him a hard time like she usually did.

  But he was rather perturbed.

  So he was relieved at what happened when they prepared lunch, even though it offended every cell in his body.

  Julie toasted two slices of bread, then covered them with a thick layer of warm mashed potato while he looked on, horrified.

  “What on earth are you doing?” he asked when he had recovered his speech.

  “It’s a mashed potato sandwich,” she said. “Can’t you see that?”

  Well, yes, but...

  “It seems wrong,” he said. “You’re filling carbs with more carbs.”

  “So?”

  “Do you put anything else on this sandwich?”

  “Yep.”

  That was good news. If she added leftover chicken, it would improve the respectability of this sandwich. It would be thick and difficult to eat, but he could sort of understand such a sandwich.

  Sort of.

  Julie knocked her hip against his. “Now this is what really makes the sandwich.”

  She was smiling now, and it was nice to see her smile again, though it also worried him. She seemed a little too pleased.

  She opened the fridge and pulled out the second worst thing he could imagine.

  Ketchup.

  The worst, of course, being mayonnaise.

  It wasn’t that Tom hated all condiments. He just didn’t like many typical North American condiments—ketchup, mayonnaise, and relish were atrocities. Mustard was acceptable.

  His mouth fell open as she squeezed a generous amount of ketchup on the sandwich. Probably more ketchup than Tom had eaten in his entire life.

  Then she took a big bite of her sandwich. “Mmm.”

  All sorts of complicated feelings were swirling inside him. Horror, first of all. He’d slept with a woman who ate mashed potato and ketchup sandwiches. How had this happened?

/>   Then, there was lust.

  His gaze was intensely focused on her mouth. When she got a bit of mashed potato on her lips, her tongue darted out to lick it.

  What if she put her tongue on his cock—

  No! What was wrong with him? He was in his fake girlfriend’s parents’ house, and he was thinking of her dropping to her knees and sucking him off. Her family could return at any second.

  The final thing he was feeling was affection. Because it was so much like Julie—who thought nothing of wearing a koala hat paired with reindeer mittens—to enjoy a sandwich that was simply carbs and ketchup.

  “Want a taste?” Julie held up the half-eaten sandwich.

  “Uh, no. I think I’ll pass.”

  “Come on. I’ll give you a blowjob.”

  Could she read his mind? Surely not.

  But now he had to make a truly terrible decision. On one side: mashed potato and ketchup sandwich plus blowjob. On the other side: nothing.

  He started pro and con lists in his head, then stopped himself.

  The only correct answer was to get her into bed some other way. She’d enjoyed it when he took off his tie yesterday. Maybe he could also...

  Well, what did she find attractive about him? He wasn’t entirely sure.

  “I’ll pass, thank you,” he said. “Not my thing.”

  “That’s why I want you to eat it.” She wiggled the sandwich in front of his face, and some mashed potato fell onto her plate. She swiped the misbehaving mashed potato up with her finger and slid it into her mouth, and now he was really thinking about that blowjob. “Aren’t you curious?”

  “Not really.”

  “This isn’t the only weird thing I eat. I also enjoy everything bagels with peanut butter and cheddar cheese. Would you rather have a bagel with both peanut butter and cheddar, or a mashed potato and ketchup sandwich?”

  “The former, I guess. Why are you only giving me terrible choices?”

  She had another bite of her appalling sandwich. “Okay. When I eat my special bagels in your presence, I’ll be sure to give you a taste.”

  Her eyebrows lifted. Had she surprised herself with her words?

  She was talking as though they’d be together for a while, but they were supposed to leave Ashton Corners in twenty-four hours.

  He was disappointed there was only one more night of their lie, truth be told. In fact, his head was such a mess that he grabbed her mashed potato sandwich and had a bite because for some reason, this seemed like the right thing to do. He was definitely losing it.

  The sandwich was as bad as he’d expected.

  No, it was even worse. He’d forgotten just how horrible ketchup was, and he gagged.

  Julie laughed. “How about pickles and Nutella? Would that be better?”

  He nearly gagged again. “Stop asking me such terrible questions.”

  “I tried it once. A friend likes that combination, but it wasn’t for me.”

  “That’s a relief.”

  He felt like they were back to their usual selves now, and that, too, was a relief. She was pissing him off, laughing and smiling more than she had earlier. It was disturbing to have that mashed potato and ketchup sandwich to thank for anything, but there it was.

  It was also disturbing how cute he found it when she popped the last bite in her mouth and licked her finger.

  Do I have feelings for Julie?

  No, it wasn’t possible. She was just his fake girlfriend.

  He came up behind her and kissed the side of her neck. Because he was her pretend boyfriend, no other reason. She giggled and pressed herself back against him, and fuck, he was thinking about having sex in the kitchen.

  Tom had never had sex in a kitchen before. Bedrooms were for sex. Not kitchens.

  But with Julie, somehow, everything was different.

  He pushed that out of his mind by making himself a very sensible chicken sandwich.

  Chapter 9

  How was Christmas with Tom?

  Julie looked at the text from Bridget and sighed. She couldn’t avoid her roommate forever. Bridget had already sent her three texts that she hadn’t answered.

  You’re falling in love with him, aren’t you? Bridget asked a moment later.

  Annoying matchmaker roommates.

  No, but we slept together, Julie replied.

  Unfortunately, that would fuel whatever “feelings” Bridget had about Julie and Tom being together. But Bridget was Julie’s best friend, and she felt the need to tell someone.

  Plus, she couldn’t help smiling as she imagined Bridget’s reaction.

  She wasn’t surprised when her phone rang a moment later. She accepted the call and excused herself from the living room, where she, Tom, Charlotte, and Mike had been watching TV and eating the remains of the gingerbread houses.

  “Hi, Bridget. Why are you calling?” Julie asked innocently as she hopped up the stairs.

  “Don’t try that with me. You know exactly why I’m calling. You slept with Tom! See, I knew you’d be perfect for each other.”

  Julie shut the door to her room and flopped back on the bed. The bed that she and Tom had shared last night.

  Then she looked down at the floor. At the sleeping bag.

  They’d had sex there.

  Every time she thought about it, desire curled through her body. She wanted to do it again. She wanted Tom, the proper pharmacist her parents loved, whom she’d offended with her mashed potato sandwich...she wanted him on the floor, taking her from behind...

  “Julie?” Bridget said.

  “We’re all wrong for each other, but the sex was good, yes.”

  “I think that means—”

  “No, it does not mean anything.” Julie didn’t tell Bridget about some of the things she’d been thinking this morning. She’d insist it was sex, nothing else.

  “If you thought he was such an uptight pain-in-the-ass—”

  “I never said that.”

  “—then why did you sleep with him?”

  “Because he kissed me while we were making snow angels, and it was like something in him snapped. He was really passionate. So, I figured the sex would be good, and it was.”

  And now I like that he folds his underwear and has a sewing kit in his suitcase.

  But if she said that, Bridget would keep bringing it up, and Julie was certain her feelings for Tom would go away once she was back in Toronto.

  “Are you going to do it again?” Bridget asked.

  “I promised him a blowjob if he tried my mashed potato sandwich, and he did, so—”

  “That’s such a weird sentence.”

  Julie laughed. “I know. Anyway, we’ll probably do it again tonight, no big deal.”

  “Julie.” Bridget sounded far too amused. “I really think you and Tom—”

  “No,” Julie snapped. “Stop saying we belong together.”

  “But you—”

  Julie hung up.

  She stared at the phone in her hand. She’d actually hung up on Bridget. They got on each other’s nerves all the time, but it was never a big deal.

  Why had she gotten so angry that she’d ended the call?

  She scrubbed a hand over her face and shook her head. She’d calm down a bit and send Bridget a text.

  For now, it was time to eat more of her competition-winning gingerbread house.

  * * *

  Julie was in the living room, stuffing gumdrops into her mouth, when her mother poked her head in.

  “Can you help me with dinner?” Mom asked.

  “I can help, too,” Tom said, standing up.

  “No, no. You are a guest. Julie.”

  Julie headed to the kitchen. “What do you need me to do?”

  “I made stock with the chicken bones from last night. You will cut up bok choy for soup, okay? We will add wontons, too. They’re in the freezer downstairs. Also, you can start the rice cooker.”

  Julie nodded and got to work. They were silent for a few minutes.

/>   “I really like Tom,” Mom said, quietly enough that nobody would be able to hear from the living room. “I think he is good for you.”

  Julie rolled her eyes. “You just like him because he’s a pharmacist. And he’s Chinese.”

  “Well, I think he will understand you and your family better than someone who is not Chinese, that’s all. And I like his career, I will not lie.”

  But I don’t like yours.

  Mom didn’t say the words, but Julie heard them all the same.

  “Why did you roll your eyes?” Mom demanded. “I like your boyfriend. Is this not good?”

  This was the approval Julie had sought. Still, it rankled.

  “You’re shallow sometimes,” Julie said. “You care about appearances.”

  Mom gave her a look. “It’s not just that. He will be able to provide for you.”

  Because I don’t trust you to provide for yourself.

  “Mom—”

  “He has been a good guest all weekend. He brought us those cookies and wine, yes? It was the best wine I have ever tasted.”

  “Uh-huh.” Julie was pretty sure her mom did not have a refined palate when it came to wine. Red wine was red wine to her.

  “And he can bake, and you did so well on the gingerbread house together.”

  “Will you make all my boyfriends construct gingerbread houses now? As a sort of test?”

  Mom gave her another look, then got something out of the fridge. “You are thirty, and he is a keeper—isn’t that what you would say? I don’t think you should have another boyfriend.”

  For a split second, Julie imagined bringing Tom home again next Christmas. Maybe competing in another baking competition with him. Skating at the rink, hand in hand.

  No.

  She and Tom were not together. They would have their fake break-up soon. Sometime before Chinese New Year so Mom and Dad wouldn’t expect to see him then.

  She felt a pang at the thought.

  It made sense. For once, her mother approved of something she did. It would be sad to go back to being the daughter who didn’t meet expectations in so many ways.

  Except that wasn’t really it.

  It would be sad not to bug Tom by talking about Nutella and pickles, not to have him kiss her with a passion he kept hidden from the rest of the world.