The 25 Men of Christmas

by Cassie James

  “I do.”

  “Fine.” Her hand snakes from my knee toward my thigh, fingernails scraping against my skin as she slips her fingers under the leg of my shorts. My dick goes hard in an instant even though her nails are biting into my muscle. “But you have to start listening to me, too. No more strenuous activities outside of your rehab plan.”

  I clench my jaw, trying real hard to think of anything other than the rush of blood to my dick. But the way she’s staring at me—like she’s happy to punish me if I defy her—only serves to turn my cock into a steel fucking rod.

  “Gemma,” I groan as she runs her hand further up my shorts.

  “Ben.”

  I try to remember if I ever told her I drew day four.

  “Front pocket of my bag. There’s a condom.”

  “Oh.” She jerks her hand from the leg of my shorts and scoots back a few feet. I’m not sure who’s pinker at my uncharacteristically bold statement.

  “I...” she pauses, taking a deep breath as the pink slowly recedes from her cheeks. “That was… I’m sorry. I’m not sure who’s taking me out tonight, and—”

  “It’s me, and we do have plans at seven. But Gemma, I swear my dick’s gonna break in half if you keep looking at me the way you are.” She sucks her lip in her mouth, biting down before releases it with a loud gush of air. And… yup, my dick is literally throbbing in my pants. If she keeps this up, I’m gonna cum before we ever manage to get anywhere.

  “So, front pocket, huh?”

  “Yeah. Not exactly the brand I personally go with but…”

  My voice trails off as she digs into my bag and comes away with the condom in hand and a frown on her face.

  “Are you saying you have this because it’s our item?”

  Ah shit, is she not into protection?

  That seems like the kind of thing one of the other guys would have warned us about by now. I want some type of forever with her—we all do—but there’s a ways to go before any of us start talking kids and shit.

  Gemma heaves a sigh that makes my gut twist.

  “This box freaking sucks—did Cyrus get it from the clearance section or something? I already had a condom with Hank.”

  Relief floods through me. “That one was flavored. This one is glow in the dark.”

  Her mood seems to lift as she chances a glance at her office door. There’s only a half pane of glass, which is mercifully frosted, but I can see the hesitation in the way her shoulders hunch.

  “Glow in the dark?”

  “Yup.”

  “Great,” she starts as she pushes herself up from the rolling chair, heading toward the door quickly. She pauses and glances over her shoulder with a smile that does equally weird things to my dick and my wildly thumping chest. “I’ll get the door and lights. You think you can hobble your gimp ass to the taping station?”

  I glance toward the side of the room where the taping station is tucked neatly against the wall. It’s a single seater that would look at home in a doctor’s office if it wasn’t for the fact that someone literally had the Storms’ logo stitched into the padding on the back support. I grunt in response and slide carefully from the table.

  The last thing I want is to earn the knee brace or crutches back so soon after she agreed to let me walk without them.

  The office goes dark a few seconds later, the only glow in the room coming from the screen of her laptop. “Be very careful, Ben,” Gemma commands from somewhere just behind me, and I huff a laugh at her.

  I bite back the mom comment that’s on the tip of my tongue because the last thing I want to be thinking about right now is anyone’s mom. Not when the girl of my fucking dreams is walking by my side, her fingers dancing around the hem of my shirt as we move toward the taping station.

  My knee bumps against the handle on one of the drawers, and I stifle the groan in favor of turning toward Gemma’s silhouetted form and catching her around the waist. The crinkle of the condom wrapper surprises me almost as much as the feeling of her free hand working past the waistband of my shorts.

  I catch her wrist in my hands because that’s not gonna fucking do at all.

  Just because I bumbled my way through most of our conversations for two painful years does not mean I’m shy or bashful in the bedroom. And Gemma’s the type of girl who could really benefit from letting go of her need to be in control now and then.

  I grapple for the condom wrapper, yanking it from her fingers as I crash my mouth over hers, taking her lips in a kiss that’s equal parts painful as it is pleasurable. She arches against me, her tits pressing against my chest, and my dick throbs heavy and hard in my pants. I pull her hand away from my shorts just before I wrench my mouth away from hers.

  “Ben, what are you—”

  I shush her and spin her toward the taping station. I cage her against the side of the cushioned tabletop with my hips, rolling and grinding against her as I use my free hand to yank her shirt up and pull her bra down to free her tits.

  It’s a shame we’re doing this in the dark, I think as I roll one of her nipples between my thumb and forefinger, pinching and squeezing the hardening bud until she’s gasping and grinding her hips back against mine.

  I close my eyes and focus on my breathing. It’s been months since I’ve had sex, and it’s been weeks since I’ve felt motivated enough to touch myself to thoughts of her. If she keeps up the moaning and grinding against my dick like this is all she’s ever wanted, I’m gonna lose my load in no time.

  With that in mind, I take a step back and toss the condom to the table, reaching around her to work my hand down the front of her stretchy athletic pants. Gemma moans as I cup her through her panties, and I growl like a fucking animal at the feeling of her damp heat pressing against the palm of my hand.

  “You naughty girl,” I whisper as I rub her through her panties, only wincing a little when she jerks forward and catches my hand between her body and the edge of the table.

  I wrap my free hand around the front of her neck and jerk her back against me, freeing my hand to work its way up just enough to slip back down past the band of her panties and brush against her soaked pussy.

  “You’re so fucking wet.” She feels so good.

  “Ben, I—”

  Found her clit.

  “How long have you fantasized about getting fucked in your office?” I ask as I start a slow circle around her clit that gradually gets faster as her breathing hitches.

  Gemma falls forward suddenly, breaking my grip on her neck, and braces herself against the table with her forearms as I delve further into her depths, pushing first one finger and then a second into her.

  “Does the idea of getting caught turn you on?”

  She whimpers her non-answer.

  She’s grinding against my hand as I pump my fingers in and out of her as fast and hard as I can manage with her clothes confining my movements. Her breathing hitches, she whimpers again, and I pull my fingers out of her. I dip my fingers into the waistband of her pants and rip them and her underwear down around her knees all in one go.

  “Fuck,” she hisses as the cool air of the office caresses her body.

  I push my shorts and briefs down before I lean against her, pressing my dick to the curve of her ass as I reach around her to grab the condom.

  I squint against the harsh green light that shines from the condom like it’s some kind of godforsaken glow stick. I probably don’t want to know what the hell they put into the material to make it do that.

  And I probably shouldn’t start roleplaying the Incredible Hulk as I put it on, either.

  Gemma glances back at me, her face tinted green from the strange glow of the condom, and we share one long look before I shake it off and unfurl the extra-thick condom down my aching length. I’ll worry about the science of it later. What I need right now is to be buried as deeply inside of her as I can get.

  I rub my length through her wetness, pausing at her entrance when her arms give out and she collapse
s against the tabletop completely. I smirk in the dark knowing I’ve done that to her after only a few minutes of touching.

  As I start to push inch after glowing inch into her, my jaw clenches at how tightly I’m gloved inside of her. A breathy moan falls from her lips.

  I pause when she reaches behind herself to press the tips of her fingers into my stomach—like she’s telling me to go gentle. I fold her arms over the small of her back, catching her wrists in one of my much bigger hands, and she whimpers when I pull out of her, pausing for half a second before pushing back into her with a snap of my hips.

  She likely got gentle with Oliver last night. She’s not getting it from me, too, I think as I set a harsh tempo. Maybe I’m not so good with my words, stumbling over them when she looks at me just the right way, but I’m good with my dick.

  Gemma arches her back and presses her ass further back against my pistoning hips.

  My eyes catch on the strange green glow sliding in and out of her, and as weird as it fucking is, it’s still hot enough to push me a little too close to the edge. I grit my teeth and slide my free hand back around the front of her body, slipping my fingers through her folds until I find her clit again.

  I will not let myself get off before I get her off first.

  She bucks and stills before turning her face into the cushion of the taping station. Her loud moans are muffled by the cushion but not so much that I don’t spare the office door a quick glance over my shoulder. I wrench my attention away from the door when she starts grinding against my dick again, her body shaking as I rub her clit and jackhammer into her.

  I hate to admit it to myself, but there’s no fucking way I’m lasting much longer, whether she cums first or not. I clench my jaw and work her over harder, only to be rewarded a short moment later when her moans turn to a strangled yell and she clenches around my cock tightly. I jerk harder and faster for a few seconds longer before I’m spilling into the condom and collapsing against her back.

  Holy. Fucking. Shit.

  I lay there like that for a minute, catching my breath as her arms and my knuckles dig into my stomach.

  I heave a deep breath before finally pushing myself up and letting her arms go. They fall to either side of the taping station, and she lays there, breathing hard and completely spent for another couple minutes longer.

  I dispose of the condom and right my clothes before hobbling back to the table in time to catch the waistband of her leggings and underwear and yank them up for her after she stands. I wrap my arms around her waist, and she turns into my embrace before I can wrap her up so tightly that she can’t move.

  She grasps either side of my face, fingers running through my short beard before she presses a light kiss on my lips.

  “I thought I just told you no extra strenuous activities,” she says as she pulls her head back just an inch.

  “You’re welcome,” I answer cheekily as I lean in to kiss her again.

  I will never, ever get tired of kissing her. Still, I reluctantly pull away after only a few seconds.

  “What do you need to do before you leave?”

  She pulls away, peering up at me, and not for the first time, I wish I could see her better in the dark. I’d kill to see the emotions in her eyes right now because I’m pretty goddamn sure mine are flashing I might be in love with you.

  “Not much, why?”

  “We have tickets at the Ritz for White Christmas at seven. I thought we could grab a bite and a beer first?”

  She gives me another lingering kiss on the mouth. “Sounds perfect.”

  Seventeen

  Kyle

  December 05

  I lean back in the booth, arms stretched wide on either side of me as I watch Gemma eye the diner. There’s a part of me that wants to be nervous as she looks around quietly, but I remind myself that this is good. I didn’t want to go to the movies or a cheesy, romantic meal. I wasn’t feeling any of that normal first date bullshit. We’ve known each other too long for me to not be authentic from the start.

  We’ve danced around talking about work or the strange agreement we’ve found ourselves in. That’s not to say that I’m having second thoughts, not at all. I just don’t want to give Gemma a reason to start doubting the arrangement.

  “What made you choose this place?” she finally asks when her eyes stop roving the small diner and land on me.

  “It has the best coffee around, and it’s usually pretty quiet around this time.” I give her an easy smirk. “It’s a good place to hang out and chat about mindless shit.”

  Gemma laughs at my simple answer, and my stomach tightens. I’ve known her for two years, same as the rest of the guys—besides Wolfie and Anthony—and this is the first time I’ve ever doubted myself or questioned my words around her.

  I hate admitting that I’m super fucking nervous, but I need this to go right.

  “How’s your dad doing?” I ask as the waitress rounds the end of the counter and heads toward our table. We place our orders quickly, fully loaded hotdogs and a Coke for me, a full fry up and a coffee for her, and hustle the waitress back on her way.

  I don’t know what the fuck I’m so impatient for. I’ve got all night as far as I’m concerned.

  “He’s good,” she answers with a soft smile. “Just as ornery as ever, honestly. Can’t get him to slow down for anything, though.”

  “Is he looking forward to the holiday?”

  It’s a well-known fact that the holidays are Gemma and her dad’s favorite time of the year. It was just the two of them when she was growing up, and she has stories on top of stories of him going out of his way to make the holidays extra special once her mom ran off.

  “Oh yeah, I’ll probably go over to decorate with him in the next couple of days. It’s nice having him close—I can’t imagine what I would’ve done if the Storms hadn’t picked me up and I’d had to move and work somewhere else. I’m lucky to have him at the holidays, neither of us like being alone.”

  The smile that twists over my lips is rueful at best, and Gemma offers me a soft smile. It’s no secret that the Christmas season isn’t my favorite.

  The pity I’m used to from others is noticeably absent, and I think again about how damn lucky I am to have her in my life. Because if there’s one person I can count on to keep it real with me, it’s Gemma.

  She might enjoy the holidays, but at least she doesn’t push anything on me that I don’t want. It’s been a few years, but losing my parents smack dab in the middle of the holiday season hasn’t gotten any easier to deal with, and Gemma at least seems to understand that.

  I know that’s why I take so much time to show those in my life that I care about them. I know better than most how short life can be—how sudden it all disappears.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” She slides her hand over mine.

  “Nah.”

  That’s a conversation I’d really rather not get into in the middle of this diner.

  I change the subject, “This is supposed to be mindless, remember? Let’s not get caught up in something that isn’t fun. How’s that never-ending list of reasons you love Christmas coming along?”

  The waitress rounds the corner again, a tray laden with our orders balancing on her hand. She makes aimless chat as she hands over our food, but when she’s gone the two of us sink into a comfortable silence as we start to eat.

  Eventually, she starts talking again between sips of coffee and bites of her eggs. I shake my head bemusedly as she rounds off a full retelling of one of her favorite Christmas movies.

  It’s something silly, a conversation that’s not the least bit deep, but sometimes that’s all I want—someone just to shoot the shit with. No big traumas to discuss, just a mindless, easy conversation over good food with the perfect woman.

  The waitress pops by at the end of our meal and asks if we’d like dessert, but there’s a bottle of chocolate sauce I pulled out of the advent box waiting for us at my place. I know what I want, and it’s
not on the dessert list at this diner.

  In all the times I fantasized about being with Gemma in the past, I never allowed myself to actually believe it could happen. There was always something lurking in the background that made it seem like an impossibility.

  Like her boyfriend.

  Or the fact that we work together.

  Having the chance to be with her now is a dream come true, even if the entire team is involved.

  I stare across the table at her as she finishes her coffee, taking in the way her hair’s pulled up just like any other day and the way she smiles easily when she catches me staring. If I had to do something like this, I’m glad it could finally be her and this group of guys I trust more than most people in my life.

  It’s the closest thing I have to family these days.

  Gemma’s lying on my bed, close as hell to naked, and I smile down at her before I pull out the bottle of chocolate sauce.

  Something about the chocolate makes her nervous, which won’t do at all. I want her to be fully here with me, reveling in the pleasure I can bring her. I’m not sure what’s going through her mind, but I plan to make her forget whatever the hell it is. Because she’s it for me, and all I want is to be able to show her how good this can be.

  I drop the bottle on the bedside table, turning my attention fully to her body instead.

  I climb over her in the bed, making sure to support the majority of my weight on my arms—she’s not that tiny, but she’s still smaller than me.

  I graze her neck with my lips, my nose running up until it’s brushing against her jaw. I drag my lips down her breasts, pausing to suck a nipple into my mouth through her bra. Gemma arches slightly, and my hands travel up her sides. I bring them back down, her lips tipping up into a smile as she moans. Hooking my thumbs in her underwear, I pull them slowly down out of the way.

  I want to take my time and give her the attention she deserves, but the anticipation is killing me.

  “Kyle,” my name falls from her lips on a moan. I never once considered that my name could ever sound erotic until this very moment.