Big Package

by Wilder, Blake

  I smiled as I grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the back workroom. “Nope. This package is mine. And I don’t share my toys.”

  Joe closed the door to the workroom with quite a bit of force, and then he threw the lock on that door too. “We don’t have much time. My mom will be here soon.”

  There was something about the idea that we could be caught that made this even more exciting. I felt like a naughty schoolgirl, sneaking a make-out session with my boyfriend on his parents’ couch.

  I pulled my coat off, tossing it on top of a pile of feed bags, and Joe followed suit. After too many days of denying ourselves, it was obvious neither of us had the patience to take this slow.

  I reached over to unbutton his flannel shirt as he gripped my breasts through my shirt, roughly kneading them, plucking at my nipples until I groaned.

  “I want you,” I whispered, running my hands over the front of his jeans. Joe placed his hand over mine, pressing it harder against his very impressive erection. Then I recalled why we’d been forced to stop the other night. “Please tell me you have a condom.”

  He grinned, using his free hand to grip the back of my neck, pulling me toward him for a hard, hungry kiss. When he released me, his lips traveled to my neck where he murmured, “I have several,” before he stroked my skin with his tongue.

  Jesus. Now that Joe was in, he was all the fucking way in. He held nothing back as he pushed me backward until my ass hit the edge of the dented old metal desk where Lydia stored her countless “cashier” notebooks.

  Joe reached behind me and swept everything on top of the desk to the floor, while I struggled to undo the button on his jeans.

  He took over for me. “Too slow,” he said. His lips had traveled up my neck to my ear, and he bit my earlobe. “Take off those fucking jeans, Paris.”

  Both of us moved as fast as we could, considering we were wearing too many damn layers of clothing. I could be naked in ten seconds in California, something I intended to mention to the Indiana boy who seemed to love this frozen town.

  “Shit,” I said when the left leg of my jeans got stuck on my boot. While the right leg was free, it was clear the left was trapped forever. The harder I tugged, the more stuck I got.

  Joe’s shirt hung open, revealing rock-hard abs I wanted to sink my teeth into. He hadn’t bothered taking his jeans off. Instead, he’d shoved his pants and boxers to his ankles, leaving them there, and I briefly forgot about the disaster I’d made of undressing as I got my first look at his cock.

  Oh yeah. This was the biggest package I’d ever unwrapped.

  “Not bad,” I breathed.

  Joe tore open the condom wrapper with his teeth, sheathing himself with one smooth motion.

  I desperately tried to toe off the jeans with my free foot, but Joe stopped me when he lifted me up onto the desk.

  “Leave it,” he said. He ran his fingers along my slit and from the grin on his face, I could tell he was pleased by how wet I was.

  “Hurry,” I begged. “You played hard to get for too long.”

  “Lift up your shirt. I want to see those sexy tits of yours while I fuck you.”

  Thank Santa Claus for dirty talk. I lifted my shirt, and then did one better, drawing my breasts out over my bra.

  He kissed me one more time, a quick, hard one that didn’t last nearly long enough, and then he lined his dick up with my pussy and pushed in. It was a deep thrust that hit all the right buttons as it slid in. I leaned back on my elbows as Joe gripped my hips, steadying me for his incredible assault.

  Over and over, he pounded inside my body. I came after half a dozen strokes, but that didn’t slow Joe down. He fucked like a man possessed, and I loved every single second of it.

  No one had ever wanted me like this. I’d read dirty books and watched more sexy romance movies where the hero was so overwhelmed with passion, nothing else mattered except taking the heroine. I had always figured those scenes were pure fiction, female fantasy.

  Until this moment.

  The men I had been with in the past were about the show, almost more concerned about how certain angles made them look than they did me. One time my ex had wanted to have sex in front of a mirror, and halfway through, I’d realized it was because he wanted to check his muscle tone, not see me. Needless to say, my orgasm had been elusive after that.

  Joe was different from anyone I’d ever been with. Joe was rough and raw and unrestrained.

  “Cup your breasts, Paris. Pinch your nipples.”

  There was pretty much nothing Joe could ask for that he wasn’t going to get. I did as he asked, thrilled by how much my actions turned him on. And me.

  His thrusts grew harder. “You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen. Can’t get enough of you.”

  “God!” I cried as he rubbed my clit, triggering a second, harder orgasm. “Fuck! Yes.” My arms gave out, and I fell to my back on the desk.

  Joe came as well, leaning over me, caging me beneath him on the hard surface.

  “Jesus Christ. Holy fuck.” His voice was deep, husky, and I loved the almost reverent sound of his words, like I’d rocked his world.

  Which was definitely what he’d just done to mine.

  We lay there for a minute or so, both of us gasping for breath. Then Joe lifted his head and shook it, looking somewhat guilty. “I usually try for a little more finesse. Didn’t mean to jump on you like that.”

  I laughed softly. “I don’t remember complaining.”

  Joe seemed to recall where we were as he looked around the workroom. He pushed himself up, then stepped away. Pulling off the condom, he wrapped it in a tissue and tossed it in the wastebasket. “Remind me to dump that later. Last thing we need is for my mom to catch sight of that.”

  I pushed myself up, sitting on the edge of the desk, watching as Joe hitched his boxers and jeans back up before buttoning his flannel shirt.

  He was dressed in seconds, and then he turned his attention to me. I sucked in an unsteady breath when he tucked my breasts back inside my bra, making sure to tease each nipple as he did so. I loved the regretful look on his face when he pulled my shirt down, covering them once more.

  That was when we both looked down at my feet, one leg of my jeans inside out and dangling over the boot trapped inside.

  He chuckled as he spent the next few minutes trying to free me. “How the hell did you manage to get so stuck?”

  “I blame the boots.” The jeans came off, and I righted the pant leg, then shimmied into them again, giving Joe quite the show. Given the look in his eyes, he seemed to appreciate it.

  Once I was dressed again, he cupped my cheeks and kissed me until I was light-headed.

  “So,” he said as we parted. “Now what? How does this sex just for sex thing work?”

  “Just like this,” I said, gesturing between him and me. “We know I’m leaving in just over a week. No attachments. Just good filthy fun whenever the mood strikes us.”

  “Any time?” he asked, running his thumb over my bottom lip.

  “Any time. As long as we don’t get caught. The other key component to keeping it casual is that no one else should know so no one can have an opinion and make it anything less than satisfying and sexy as hell.” I crossed my legs and leaned back on the desk on my forearms.

  “I wasn’t planning to shout it from a megaphone. Though I wouldn’t mind seeing some of these guys jealous. You’re the hottest thing to hit town since they opened up that Dunkin’ Donuts out by the expressway.”

  I laughed. “I’ll take that as an enormous compliment.”

  “It was meant that way.”

  We both heard it at the same time—a pounding on the front door. Joe cursed. I jumped down off the desk and smoothed my hair.

  “We smell like sex.” But even as he said it, he grinned.

  I opened the desk drawer and pulled out the cinnamon room freshener spray. I’d been dousing the Christmas tree display with it to create a scent memory for customers.

&
nbsp; Pushing the nozzle, I hit Joe with it.

  He jerked back, waving his arm in front of him. “What the fuck, Paris? I smell like a breakfast roll now.”

  “And who doesn’t love a cinnamon bun?” I gave him a smile. “Come over later tonight.”

  Joe stopped acting like he was choking and raised his eyebrows. “Does that mean what I think it means?”

  “What do you think it means?”

  “That I get to taste your pussy.”

  Wow. My nipples tightened, and I wished we were anywhere but at the store right now. The pounding on the front door got louder. We were out of time. “Yes,” I said. “That’s exactly what it means.”

  “I think Christmas came early.”

  “Just don’t you come early.” I winked at him.

  Joe growled and half turned me. He swatted my ass. Hard. “You’ll be punished for that later.”

  My inner thighs bloomed with heat.

  God, I loved Indiana.

  Seven

  Joe

  It was a good thing I’d had to do some roof repairs after the hot workroom sex with Paris because I needed the cool down. Damn, that woman was unbelievable. Confident, sensual, flirtatious.

  Now that I’d given in to my base desires and had her over Lydia’s desk, I wasn’t sure why the hell I’d bothered to resist. Sure, I was notorious for getting attached. Yes, most likely I was going to either make a jackass out of myself or fall in love with her and get my damn heart broken. But I had a sneaking suspicion that could happen anyway so why not enjoy the high before the crash?

  At least that’s what I was telling myself as I replaced shingles and let the cold air take the heat out of my skin. It was a fucking miracle I didn’t shoot a nail through my glove given how distracted I was by thoughts of seeing Paris again that night. She was leaving in just over a week, and I had every intention of spending every night until then deep inside her heat.

  When she closed up the Holly Jolly for the night, she waved and called up to me from the sidewalk. “I’m going home. Bye, Joe!”

  I wondered if she knew she had said “home” and if that meant anything. Probably not. See, I was doing it again. Trying to change reality. I waved back to Paris, remembering her telling me we couldn’t let people know we were hooking up. That was the smart way to handle it. I didn’t need any of my friends or family giving me shit about it.

  My mother would tell me she’d raised me different. Which she had. But I was a grown-ass man jumping on an opportunity. Literally.

  That didn’t mean I wasn’t me, though. I couldn’t just show up, nail Paris, and walk back out. It might be casual, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t be friends too. Isn’t that what they called it, friends with benefits? I wanted to do all sorts of nasty things to Paris, but I also liked talking to her.

  That’s why when I parked my truck on the street behind her house and cut through the yards to knock on her back door, I had a plan in mind.

  Lydia had vertical blinds on the slider leading to the family room, and they shifted, Paris’ face appearing. She had her phone to her ear and a scared expression. Her shoulders dropped, and she opened the blinds and then the slider.

  “What the hell are you doing?” she asked. “I was about to call 9-1-1.”

  “Sorry. You told me I had to be discreet, so I parked on the next street.” It hadn’t actually occurred to me I’d scare her. Small-town life meant people were always knocking on each other’s back doors.

  “You could have warned me.” She put her hand to her chest. “I lost three years of my life. Come in, you weirdo.”

  I stepped inside and kicked the snow off of my boots, but I stayed on the tile by the door. “Grab your coat. I want to take you somewhere.”

  Paris paused in the process of bending over, which gave me a hell of a view. “What? Where?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  She scooped Louis off the floor and cuddled him to her chest. “I don’t like surprises.”

  “I thought all women like surprises.”

  “I told you I threw up when my ex surprised me with an engagement ring. I don’t like not being in control.”

  That made me grin. She’d just handed me ammunition for sex. I was going to drive her wild until she totally lost control.

  “Relax. It’s nothing crazy. I just want to show you something.”

  Her eyes dropped to the front of my jeans. “I can get behind that plan.”

  I grinned. “Go get your coat and boots, dirty girl. By the way, how is Louis doing?”

  She’d stopped bringing the little guy to the store because it seemed to give him anxiety. He’d taken to standing in front of the reindeer and barking nonstop. He had also flatly refused to do his business on the sidewalk so Paris had been leaving him at Lydia’s on the sofa on a fleece blanket, watching HGTV, while wearing a sweater she’d ordered from Amazon that read “Resting Grinch Face.” The dog had it made.

  “He’s better. He seems to have adjusted. There’s just too much going on at the store. It makes him nervous.”

  “Does he stay at home during the day when you’re in L.A.?” I was curious about her life in California.

  “He goes to doggy day care.”

  “Get the fuck out of here. Is that really a thing?” That was a head scratcher to me.

  She laughed. “Of course it’s a thing. People have busy careers and traffic in L.A. sucks, making for a long commute. Most people either have a dog walker or take their dogs to day care so they’re not alone being understimulated all day.”

  In North Pole, if a dog needed to be stimulated, you took it hunting or fishing with you. But I could see her point. It just illustrated how different our lives were. Our real lives. This was a temporary arrangement for her, taking on Lydia’s life.

  “What do you love most about L.A.?” I asked her.

  “The weather. Living close to my parents. World-class shopping.”

  Solid answer and not unexpected. “What do you like the least?”

  “Traffic, the insanely high rent prices, earthquakes, fires, smog.”

  To me, those would outweigh the benefits, but she’d grown up there. It was home. Plus, I’d never walked on a beach in Southern California. That might change my mind about everything. “I guess everywhere has pros and cons, huh?”

  Paris nodded and set Louis down on the shag carpet. He ran over to the plaid sofa and leaped up onto it and did three circles before settling down. “What’s your favorite thing about North Pole?” she asked.

  That was easy. “The people. The sense of community. Neighbors helping neighbors.”

  “And your least favorite?”

  That no woman ever wanted to stay. That I was Uncle Joe and most likely was never going to be a father unless I left town. But I didn’t say any of that. It was two weeks until Christmas; there was a light snow falling, and me and Paris were on borrowed time. I was going to enjoy the season. Nothing more, nothing less.

  “Roscoe,” I said as Lydia’s cat strolled by and took a swipe at my leg.

  Paris laughed. She bent down and scratched behind the cat’s ears. “Don’t be mean. Roscoe is just a witty bitty cutie little baby, aren’t you, sweetie? Yes, I know. That feels so good when I rub you, doesn’t it?”

  “Lucky son of a bitch.”

  She rolled her eyes at me. “Let me get my coat.”

  “Great idea.”

  Paris disappeared into the hallway between the family room and the kitchen. Lydia had it set up as a mud room. To my shock, Paris reappeared wearing my enormous winter coat and Mom’s boots. Wise, given what I had planned, but shocking nonetheless.

  “Nice duds,” I told her.

  “When in Rome,” she said breezily, zipping up the nylon coat with a flourish.

  I stepped in front of her, amazed as always at how beautiful she was with her high cheekbones and almond-colored eyes that sparkled with flirtation. I leaned in. Paris parted her lips, her eyes drifting partially closed, anticip
ating my kiss.

  Pulling a knit hat out of my pocket, I reached up and tugged it onto her head.

  She gave a squawk. “What the hell, Joe?”

  “Your ears need to be covered.” She looked annoyed and adorable, the worn navy hat lopsided. I gave her a kiss. “It’s cold outside.”

  “You need to work on your flirting skills,” she said. “This doesn’t feel very sexy.”

  “You’d be sexy in a sack,” I told her truthfully.

  Thirty minutes later, as I led Paris by the hand through the snow to a covered-bridge painted barn-red, she gave a gasp. “Joe… oh my God, this is beautiful.”

  “It is.” But I was looking more at her than at the bridge I’d seen hundreds of times. The wonder on her face made both my dick hard and my gut clench.

  It was a cold, clear night, the snow having stopped twenty minutes earlier. The moon was high, and the trees were all dusted with the new-fallen snow.

  “It’s so quiet out here,” she said, turning in a circle, putting her arms out. “It’s like we’re all alone in the world.”

  An owl gave a low call in the distance. “Not entirely alone,” I said.

  “Where does this road go?” she asked, gesturing to the bridge. “Can we walk through it, or are we at risk for getting hit by a car?”

  I gave her a smile. “We’re not going to get hit by a car. The bridge is closed to cars now because the road was cut off by new development and the highway. It’s just a foot bridge now.”

  “Progress comes even to small towns, doesn’t it?”

  “Yep. Even when it’s not wanted.” I took Paris’ hand and led her across the snow.

  She seemed startled to be holding hands, but I didn’t care. The woman had proven herself incapable of walking in snow without falling on her ass, and I didn’t want to be hauling her off the ground every ten feet.

  “When I look at the Pacific Ocean, I’m always amazed at how huge the world is, and I have that feeling here too.” Paris was looking around, taking in the woods and the stream that ran under the bridge. “I think this is the first time I’ve actually enjoyed the cold. It feels kind of refreshing.”