Catch You For Christmas (Bad Boys Book 7)

by Susan Arden

  She looped her arms around his neck and she whispered, “Two doors down. Left side of the hall.”

  Once inside the near empty room, he set her down, and closed the door. There was a long table, a couple of chairs, and the walls were completely covered in mirrors. Unlike the other rooms, this one had a bare wooden floor and obviously had been cleaned, all traces of dust and debris removed. A set of blinds covered the windows and he walked over, twirling the wand so that only faint slivers of light poured in from the outside.

  “Tell me what you want,” he commanded, his voice coming out hoarse. “Tell me the things you fantasize about when I’m away.”

  “I want your mouth on me. Your tongue inside me. And then I want you to take me. Hard. Don’t hold back.”

  He nodded, returning to her. There were no words he could manifest to convey how blown away he was by her admission. Tugging the hem of her dress upward, he lowered in front of Cory, shifting her panties to the side as he hooked her leg over his shoulder. Seeing her bared to him, his cock pulsed, and he gripped her hip, pulling her to his mouth. He trailed his tongue along the seam of her pussy as she moaned and ground down on his mouth. He splayed her lips apart, sucking her pink clit—his clit.

  “Please, make me come,” she begged.

  Slowly, he drew his mouth across her folds, savoring her taste sliding across his tongue, filling his head, erasing everything beyond this room. Her fingers twisted in his hair and she yanked.

  “Again,” he ordered. Fuck, he loved her fingers in his hair, scraping her nails over his scalp. The snap of pain heightened the erotic pleasure of fucking her with his mouth. He buried his tongue inside her pussy, grazing his teeth across her clit as she whimpered. Over and over, he speared into her, making her ride him as she tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled.

  When he felt her tightened against his mouth, clenching her stomach muscles, and then her juices coated his tongue and lips, he couldn’t wait another second. He rose, steering her toward the table, lifting her up onto the surface.

  “Lay down,” he directed her as he unbuckled his belt, lowered his zipper, his jeans, and then boxers off his hips, freeing his cock.

  Leaning over the table, he spread apart her thighs, tugging her hips closer to him. With a snap of his wrist, he tore off her panties. “I liked those,” she chided him.

  “I’ll get you more. Now, you need to be properly fucked.” He gripped his dick, swiping his tip across her slick folds, teasing her entrance when a jolt of pleasure ripped through him. He aligned his cock to her entrance and drove himself forward, seating himself deep inside her body. The feeling of her warm, tight, and wet wrapped around him threatened to make him come in the next two seconds.

  He forced himself to remain still, his cock throbbing as he fought to keep himself from coming. It had been three weeks since they’d seen each other—too long in his book—and he was at the point of losing himself as he stared down at the woman who fucking rocked his entire world.

  He cupped her breasts through her dress. “I want more. I want you naked under me.”

  “We’ll do that next. In our bed.”

  “Yeah, sugar. We’ve got all night.”

  He pumped his hips, moving his shaft in and out of her in a tempo that gained speed with each completed thrust. He worked his cock, pummeling her with his length relentlessly until she arched off the table, and he was hiking up her hips.

  “Look at us,” she said, her gaze directed at the mirror to their side.

  They moved in perfect rhythm, each thrust punctuated by their voices, the slapping of their skin, and the sound of their sharp groans echoing off the mirrors.

  “So perfect!” He slammed his cock into her. Over and over until sweat dripped down his face.

  “I’m going to come, Brett,” she cried out, clutching her breasts as he pounded into her, so hard the table shook, creaking loudly with each thrust.

  “Now, Cory. Get there!”

  When she arched, calling out his name, and clenched her muscles around his rod, he let go and came with the force of a natural fucking disaster. The searing burn in his muscles hit him and he jetted again, shuddering as rippling ecstasy tore through him, spreading out across his nerve endings, and he lost all sense of time as he leaned over Cory’s body, their chests touching, and their hearts pounding, pounding, pounding.

  Chapter 2

  “MERRY EARLY Christmas,” Cory said, handing Dr. Peterson—her UCLA advisor-slash-supervisor—a brightly wrapped package with a large red bow. “Open it!”

  “Oh you didn’t!” Dr. Peterson shook her head. “Thought we agreed, we weren’t doing a gift exchange!”

  “Uh, I never agreed. I just didn’t comment. Big, big difference.”

  Her advisor frowned. “You’re negotiating skills are getting harder and harder to steer clear of. Except…” Dr. P opened a desk drawer and removed an envelope. “Here ya go, Miss Smarty Pants!”

  Cory rounded the desk with open arms and both women hugged. “I like how we both break our own rules. Dr. P, you’re nothing but a softie!”

  “Yeah, well. That’s our little secret. What’s in here?” Dr. P said, shaking the box.

  “Only one way to find out.” Cory lifted a brow, steeling her features to prevent giving away any sign of her immense pleasure at having wrangled this gift. It had taken some finagling—a little provocative promise to Brett and he caved. Cory opened the envelope and gasped, “Casino de Paris tickets. Thank you!”

  “I heard you talking with that fiancé of yours.” Like a kid, Dr. Peterson tore off the wrapping and opened the box, pushing aside the tissue paper. Her eyes grew to the size of plates and her mouth formed an ‘O’ but so far she didn’t move—didn’t make a sound.

  Cory looked down into the box. Had she forgotten to put the gift inside?

  “I can’t accept this,” Dr. P whispered. “You’ve outdone yourself. And that’s saying a ton, where you’re concerned.”

  “Shush.” Cory laughed, clapping her hands. “You can accept it. You must. Too late to change, and we can’t return the ticket.”

  “A box seat? I’ve never been inside a box before.” Dr. P looked up, blinking rapidly.

  “Well, Brett gets two seats for each game and I need someone to have fun with. Don’t you want to hang with me back in the States? We can kick back, watch the Devils trounce the Cougars. I’m looking forward to drinking a tall draft, eating chili-n-cheese fries, a hot dog or five, and cheering on our favorite player come Sunday.”

  “Oh, you do know how to twist my arm. I gotta call and thank Brett,” Dr. P said.

  Cory’s face felt on fire, probably brighter than the ribbon dangling from her advisor’s hand. “Call him when you get to the airport.”

  “What? Why?”

  She rolled her eyes, but it wouldn’t hurt to tell Dr. P the truth. “I changed my flight.”

  “Say again?” Dr. Peterson’s eyes shot to hers.

  She gestured to the stack of folders on the credenza. “We had so much work to do that I booked a later one. I’m flying out tonight at five. And Brett…I haven’t let him know just yet.”

  “How are you going to get to the airport on time?”

  She stared back at her advisor. “I’ll catch a cab. Same as you. Nothing too difficult. I assure you, I can do it.”

  “I’d like to see you try. The last time you had to catch a plane, you waited until forty-five minutes before departure to get up and leave. And then the time before that, it was worse but thank goodness the plane had a weather delay. Time before that…you did miss your flight!”

  “I didn’t miss my appointment though,” she replied, notching up her chin, even though she clearly and loudly got Dr. P’s message.

  “Only because of the Eurostar and you were traveling to London. I can assure you, there isn’t a train or subway line you can ride back to Texas. Every time you have to run to the airport that’s what you basically d
o. R-U-N and I’m behind you, haranguing you. I’ll be gone and just who is going to see you off—or at least out the door? Who?”

  Cory folded her arms over her chest. “Um…there’s always…” She bit her lip, slanting a glance toward the dim hallway.

  Up on the fifteenth floor in the Arviat Building on the Rue de Blanc in the middle downtown, the outer corridor was dead quiet except for the muted sounds of traffic far below. Everyone from the UCLA~HEC~LCE Paris research project headquarters housed on this floor, and the two below, had left for the Christmas holiday. Either to homes all over Paris, vacation trips, or back to the States. She and Dr. P had stayed the longest. As usual.

  “Yes?” Dr. P tapped her foot, waiting for an answer.

  Exasperated, she exhaled. “I’m not going to miss my flight. Not when it’s this important. Do you think I want to spend Christmas alone in a city far from home?”

  “No. But you do have a way of getting…sidetracked.”

  Cory rubbed her hand down her face and nodded. “I hear your concern and I promise…” She crossed her heart. “I won’t screw this up.”

  “I could book a later flight too. We could knock out the contracts due when our winter break is over—”

  She interrupted Dr. P. “That’s crazy. Besides, our flights aren’t even the same. You’re going to L.A. and I’m headed to Dallas. Just have some faith…in me.” She smiled and picked up her advisor’s scarf. “C’mon. It’s time for you to leave or you’ll be the one who misses her flight.”

  “I don’t feel right,” Dr. P said. “Especially after you got me a ticket and all. What will Brett think—”

  “He’ll be happy when he sees you on Sunday. Now go home and go get your Devils’ jersey ready. We’re gonna be screaming playoff fools and ready to kick some Cougar keister when we meet up at Farmer’s stadium.”

  She walked Dr. Peterson to the elevator and both stood silent for a beat, then her advisor groaned. “Since you’re staying, can you do me a favor?”

  “Shoot. Anything.”

  “Send an email to Frederick Montagne and let him know the research parameters? Just forward the L'Oréal packet on my drive. I sent him a full project outline in an email, but lately he has a habit of claiming not to get my messages. He can’t very well do that if we both tag-team him.” Her advisor winked.

  “He’s a slippery eel. Why?”

  “Dr. Montagne wanted this post in Paris. But he didn’t get it and now, it’s just some good ole fashioned passive aggressive B.S. he’s working through.”

  “It’s almost been two years since we’ve been here. Enough is enough,” Cory replied, her brow creasing.

  “He’s a man. What can I say?” Dr. P shrugged and laughed shrilly.

  “I suspect a lot, but you’ve got too much class,” she snorted. “Don’t worry. I’m on it and then I’ll probably close up shop. I have a couple of gifts to get, then I’ll head for the airport, and catch up on watching holiday movies on my Kindle. I’m traveling light. Only one bag. Can you believe it?”

  “That’s a feat and yes, I can.” The elevator dinged and the gold-colored metal doors slid smoothly open. “Merry Christmas, Cory. I’m phoning Brett and I promise I won’t say a peep. But you gotta warn him. He’ll be taking off to collect you from the airport.”

  “I didn’t want to wake him. I sent him an email, but I know. I’ll call him. Next thing on my list. Phone home. Send email. Piece of cake.”

  She hugged Dr. P again, and waved as the doors closed. For a second, she just stared at her reflection before turning on her heel and heading down the corridor. Grabbing hold of the ornate bronze door handle, she almost knocked her face into the glass surface when the door didn’t budge but remained closed. Locked.

  “Oh Christ,” she swore, then remembered she had her security badge in her pocket. Usually she wore it on a lanyard around her neck, but early this morning, she’d slipped it into her pocket after she’d used it to access the magnetic security reader.

  Even the guards were on holiday. So so different than the States. Around here, people took extra time off. A day before Christmas Eve, early afternoon, and it was a ghost town up here. Really, all over the building. The click sounded as the hardware unlatched and Cory pushed the door open and stepped inside. With a mission, she felt the familiar charge to her senses. A purpose and why she’d accepted this assignment. Come January, it would be over two years since she first arrived in Paris and every second away from Brett made her heart ache. Not too long now. In June, they’d be married. Next spring, she’d graduate, ahead of schedule and in the top five percent of her class. Married to a first-string NFL tight end, she was ready to settle down, find a job in one of the marketing firms in Dallas…maybe in a few years, she’d start her own company. So many possibilities, and she felt the familiar twang whenever she imagined her and Brett finally together for more than a stolen weekend, or a week here or there. He came to Paris and she flew back to Texas—but it was bittersweet.

  “Brett,” she whispered his name while twisting her engagement ring. Yeah, going home was a high priority on her to-do list. Back to the man who made her toes curl, her skin heat, and her heart melt.

  As she entered her office, her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she was jarred from more memories threatening to send her into a homesick spiral. “I don’t know how you do…” she began, after answering her phone.

  “What happened?” Brett’s deep voice filled the phone. He sounded like he’d just woken up and must have read her email. “Baby, I’m so jacked up on the promise of seeing you and now…I have to wait an additional three hours. Christ, I’m ready to pound nails.”

  “Out of frustration,” she ventured.

  “Partly. I’m so hard. I can’t wait to see you again. I’m ravenous for my favorite dish of sweetness. Dammit, woman. Question is when?”

  His gravelly voice made her clench. “I’m ready for you and that mouth of yours.”

  Her cowboy possessed an unadulterated enjoyment of going down on her. He relished tasting her and together they’d done some pretty racy things to satisfy his appetite for sucking her clit until she came all over his tongue. He didn’t shy away from public places where he’d hoisted her up, ate her until she came…or fucked her until they were both sated. The man was unstoppable. The only thing that could put brakes on his ability to have his way with her was an ocean…the Atlantic to be precise.

  The fiery blush sweeping up her neck and over her cheeks was telltale; she wasn’t far behind him in being hot-n-bothered at the prospect of being home…and in his bed or striking distance. She closed her eyes as she said, “Babe, I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah. Well tell that to—”

  “Brett Gold!” Flashing open her eyes, she laughed, feeling a jolt of electricity race a circuit around her body and crash-land between her legs. She gripped the phone, and whispered, “I’d be happy to do so, when I see you next.”

  “Girl, we’re going to hit the sheets and not get out of bed until we’re due at the airport Sunday morning. And maybe, I’ll take you there in some alcove. Now, say it!” he demanded. “Say the words I need to hear to stay sane!”

  “I need you…”

  “More Corinth. Where do you need me? And how much? Tell me, baby… are you up for another round of me getting you to do as I say? Even if you’re all the way over yonder in Paris, I do have the means to garner your undivided attention.”

  She sucked in a breath. God, how did he have that effect on her? Her whole body hummed with a barely contained charge of intense desire mixed with erotic longing for him and his ability to get her screaming wild. They’d agreed to contain their sex endeavors, prior to marriage, to this side of crazy town, but still they’d done things—lots of things. Everything he suggested blew her mind. Felt out of the world and she craved the feel of his touch on her skin, his mouth taking possession of her in ways…ways that had her falling. Falling. Falling over the edge.

&nb
sp; “I need to feel your mouth on my pussy. Sucking my clit. Making me come. Then bending me over and fucking me so hard, we both see stars. Brett, I’m so close right now.”

  “Touch yourself,” he commanded her.

  “Here!” she whisper-shouted. “I’m at work.”

  “Do it!”

  “But—”

  “For pulling this travel stunt and arguing, that’s ten smacks when we meet up. I promised I’d wait until we were married to totally own that perfect ass of yours, but you’re pushing my buttons, baby. Are you in or out?”

  “In,” she said, hoping to satisfy his need to demonstrate how insane he could drive her. “I’m just closing my door.”

  “Better lock it. I don’t want your screams to get the others in your program worried. They might come running and find you in a compromising position.”

  She didn’t want to relay that she was the only one up here and simply locked her door. “Done.”

  “Take off your panties. What kind of heels are you wearing?”

  Leaning back against her door, she inhaled a deep breath, trying to slow her heartbeat racing in her chest.

  “Boots. Tall. The white ones. You know the pair. I bought them when we went to London last month.”

  “Nice, baby. Fuck those are hot. Hotter when they’re over my shoulders.”

  “Got to close the blinds,” she whispered, her voice coming out hoarse at the mention of his broad muscular shoulders and her legs strewn over them.

  “While you’re setting up, I’m getting myself ready. God, I’m so close to coming. Better hurry.”

  With each step across her carpeted office, the rubbing of her thighs together, elicited jolts of pleasure in her pussy. She was wetter than she’d been in days—not since the last little phone sex session she’d had with Brett. “Send me a picture of your cock,” she murmured into her cell, upping the ante of going from office sex to office sex and sexting.