by Cassie James
December 15
I can feel all the blood drain from my face.
All day, I’d been looking forward to finally finishing what we’d started, but I should have known better. Everything has been too easy, too good. Of course I would end up blindsided by something like this.
Wolfie leans slightly closer on the sofa so he can rest a hand on my lower back.
“Are you okay?”
“Uh, yeah,” I choke out. “I just don’t think…”
I just don’t think I want someone burning me with hot candle wax today, thanks. The words are right there on the tip of my tongue but I can’t force them past my lips.
Why?
Because Wolfie is looking at me like he doesn’t understand what the problem is—which makes me seriously wonder how we’re going to be compatible if this turns out to be a kink of his.
The small white candle sits on the coffee table in front of us, taunting me.
I’ve been avoiding eye contact, but Wolfie finally reaches out and tilts my chin towards him so that I have no choice but to meet his eyes. Understanding seems to dawn on him as he flickers his gaze between me and the candle.
“We talk in the locker room, Gemma.”
“Yeah, I know that.” The saying locker room talk doesn’t just exist for no reason. I’m not usually privy to those conversations, but of course I know they happen. Though, for some reason I guess I hadn’t really stopped to think about how those conversations might be centered around me now.
I feel some color return to my face.
“You’ve tried everything thrown at you so far, even the things you weren’t exactly thrilled about.” That’s true. “But if this is where you’re drawing the line, it’s okay. I’m just happy to have you here tonight, and that has nothing to do with candle wax or even sex.”
“But—”
He gives me a slight shake of his head as he leans forward to press a soft kiss to my mouth. “I’ve been waiting a long time for you, Gemma. Longer than these other guys. I know getting my hands on you is going to be so fucking sweet, but the better part of this is seeing you here, in my apartment and in my clothes.”
I had commandeered one of his sweatshirts almost as soon as I’d walked through the door. That’s what I got for trying to dress up for him—the uncharacteristic dress I’d worn to impress him, but instead I’d just ended up freezing my ass off and begging for warmth.
We grew up near each other. Wolfie’s seen me plenty of times at my very worst. Tonight, I wanted him to see a new side of me. The sexier side that’s only just now come out to play since this arrangement started.
Yet here I am chickening out over a damn candle.
“I’m scared it’s going to hurt,” I admit quietly. Of all the things I’ve done so far, nothing has actually hurt me. I’m not particularly keen to change that now.
Wolfie’s mouth pulls tight. “I would never hurt you.”
I know he wouldn’t, not on purpose anyway. Of everyone on the team, Jay Wolfe—who we’ve always affectionately called Wolfie, even as kids growing up on the same block—is the last person in the world I would ever expect to hurt me. He’s been my rock since I started the team. Looking out for me when I walked in the first day as the only female employee working on the ground with the team.
“I’ll take it.”
I study Wolfie, not sure what he’s talking about.
“The wax,” he clarifies. “I’ll be the one to take it. You can pour it on me.”
Alarm bells start chiming in my head instantly. “I don’t want to hurt you.” He’s so damned sweet, I don’t want to hurt him any more than he wants to hurt me.
He grins and uses one of his oversized hands to drag me closer until I’m practically on top of him. Unable to resist, I twist my body and throw a leg over his lap to straddle him.
We’re face to face now as he tells me, “I’m a tough guy, Gemma, I can take a little candle wax.”
The idea of being able to keep my perfect streak going is so, so tempting. I’ve never been this adventurous in my life, but I have discovered so much about myself in just being willing to try. And I’ve relaxed more around the guys, too, after all the times this month I’ve been forced to put my trust in them while giving up control to the team.
My limbs all feel drunk with desire as I press closer, feeling Wolfie start to harden under my thigh. “You might look good with a little wax here.” I run my hand under his shirt so my fingertips can skate across his bare chest.
He closes his eyes for a moment, clearly enjoying the feeling of me touching him as I graze him lightly with my fingernails.
My fingers brush over his nipples.
“Bed,” he croaks out.
I barely have a chance to loop my arm around his neck before he’s lifting me—pausing only long enough to grab the candle off the table.
I’m a curvy girl, but I feel weightless in his arms as he carries me down the hall to his bedroom. He reaches the bed and sets me down so that I only bounce gently as I settle in the very middle of it. I beckon for him to join me but he stands back and takes his time taking in the sight of me waiting for him in his bed.
He only tears his gaze away when he finally goes to set the candle on the nightstand. “Shit, be right back.”
I don’t get to ask him what’s wrong before he disappears from the room.
I take the chance to get comfortable. Spreading further out across the bed as I stretch languidly. My bare legs take in the soft comforter. It’s the same one he had when I inadvertently slept over after my drunken incident back before I started sleeping with the Storms.
When Wolfie comes back he’s got matches in his hand. He tosses them down next to the candle on the nightstand and returns to his place at the foot of the bed. His eyes are a whole shade darker than usual as he stares down at me with hooded eyes.
“I’m torn between wanting to savor you or devour you.”
He’s looking at me like a man starved. I mean, technically that’s probably not so far off the mark at the moment.
“We haven’t even made it to dinner yet,” I remind Wolfie, amusement lacing my voice. I don’t actually give a damn about dinner right now but he yanks his phone from his pocket anyway.
He presses the screen a few times with way more pressure than is necessary and then dumps it on top of the dresser.
“There. Takeout will be here in one hour.”
“Is that enough time?” I raise an eyebrow.
His eyes trail over me spread out in his bed. “We’ll call it intermission.”
“Not half-time?”
“Nope. Because this isn’t a game, it’s a whole goddamn performance.”
“Okay, but I should warn you that you’ll have to really impress me if you want to earn a standing ovation.”
“Baby, I think I’ve already got that part taken care of.” He gestures down at his jeans where his cock is straining to be freed from his pants.
I wet my lips with my tongue as Wolfie puts a hand on each of my ankles. He murmurs appreciatively as his hands slide over my smooth skin. I’ve been shaving within an inch of my life for exactly this moment right here.
The first moment of contact.
The sound of Wolfie groaning as his hands skate up my legs, up my thighs, up under my skirt… I nearly come up off the bed as he strokes me through my panties.
“I’ve heard you taste like heaven.”
My whole body shivers at his words. I would think it would be awkward knowing the guys are talking openly about my sexual relationship with each of them, but there’s actually something shockingly sexy about it.
It makes the whole thing feel more cohesive. Like they really are sharing me and not just maintaining their own distinct and separate relationships.
“What else do the guys say?”
Wolfie starts to drag my panties off of me as he answers, “That you deserve a gold fucking medal for the way you suck dick.”
A smile curves over m
y lips at the secondhand praise. I know exactly which guys might have said that based on who I’ve put my mouth on so far. I wouldn’t mind adding Wolfie to that list tonight, too.
I tell him now, “The magic of Christmas is all about giving and receiving.”
His hands freeze.
“Jesus, Gemma,” he groans out my name as if he’s pained.
I sit up in the bed to press a kiss to his mouth and then finish tugging my panties off myself. He starts to protest when I climb off the bed, but I’m not going far.
“Strip,” I tell him as I pull his sweatshirt off over my head. By the time my vision is clear again he’s stripped down to nothing. And he’s a girthy fellow, though I’m not sure why I expected anything less considering the man is built like a brick wall.
I don’t bother making a spectacle of ditching my dress. Despite the performance jokes, neither of us actually cares about putting on a show at the moment. I toss away the dress and then my bra goes right behind it.
Light the candle, Gemma.
I force my feet to carry me to the nightstand. My hands shake just slightly as I light a match and then use it to light the candle. It’s not a regular candle, it’s specifically made for what we’re about to do. Still, a paranoia swirls in my stomach that I might hurt him without meaning to. Wolfie’s a big ol’ softie. The last thing I want to do is cause him any pain—no matter how tough he tells me he is.
“C’mere, baby.”
He offers me his hand to help back onto the bed. This time, I crawl over him, reveling in the feel of us touching skin to skin like this for the very first time. I settle with my ass on his thighs as his hands skate up to rest on the tops of my thighs.
A vulnerableness sweeps over me as he looks up at me. Everyone knows this isn’t a woman’s best angle—especially not women built curvy like I am—but Wolfie looks at me with nothing but pure appreciation.
He rubs his thumb against my thigh, sending a tingle of awareness zipping up my spine. “I pined after you for a long time, Gemma Mitchell.”
“Was it worth it?” A wave of self-consciousness washes over me. I don’t want to be a disappointment to him after all this time.
“This is much better than all my fantasies,” he reassures me. “No wonder Hank’s finally cooled it on the masturbating. There’s no way it compares. Not after having the real thing.” His fingers dig into the flesh of my legs as if he’s scared losing his grip would mean letting me go altogether.
“You’re a real sweet talker.” Emotion wells up in in me, threatening to force my chest to burst wide open, but I swallow it down. I’m not ready to start spilling my feelings with these guys. It’s too soon and there are still too many dates left.
I clear my throat and ask Wolfie, “Could you hand me the candle, please?”
He reaches behind him and carefully grabs the candle to hand over to me. Wax has started to melt in the holder. I look down at it with serious trepidation. Even though this is allegedly perfectly safe… I’m still nervous as hell.
Wolfie waits patiently for me to make my move but I’m paralyzed with the candle in hand.
After enough time passes that it’s clear I can’t really do this on my own, Wolfie reaches out and clasps a hand around my wrist. He nudges my arm higher so that the candle isn’t so close to him.
And then—with almost unbearable slowness—he helps tip my hand so that wax finally spills over the side of the candle holder. I jerk my hand back too quick so that barely any wax actually escapes, but one solid line manages to flick across his abdomen.
A sharp hiss escapes him but it doesn’t sound pained it sounds… surprised.
“Did you like that?” I ask, unable to keep the incredulous tone out of my voice.
His cheeks go a little pink. “It’s—ah—not bad.”
I don’t push him to give me a real answer, mostly because I don’t need him to. It’s written all over his face that he did like it. And that’s exactly what I needed to feel confident enough to do this on my own.
I brush Wolfie’s hand aside despite his light protests. He only complains as long as it takes him to realize I’m not running away from this new activity.
Keeping my hand at the same, safe distance away, I let a heavier pour of candle wax greet Wolfie’s skin. This time I shift my body so that the wax pours a line up the center of his chest. I’m trying to be careful not to make a mess all over his comforter, but as the wax runs over his body messily, I know that’s probably wishful thinking at this point.
Too late now.
The same sharp noise escapes him as the new wax caresses his body.
“The face you’re making right now is really sexy,” I croon down to him, my voice wholly unfamiliar from how laced with sex it sounds. It’s incredible really how easy it is to get worked up just because my partner is.
One thing I’ve definitely learned over the course of this experiment so far—I really love pleasing my men.
Just as much as they love pleasing me.
Wolfie lays still as I pour a little bit more of the wax on the upper part of his chest. That changes as soon as I dare to run my finger through the wax, though.
He catches me off guard as one of his hands slides between my legs.
My breath catches and I pitch forward slightly. Neither of us thought that through clearly because the entirety of melted wax is suddenly covering Wolfie’s chest as he lets out a low groan. This one sounds slightly more pained this time—probably because I just dumped it a good foot closer to his body than before.
“I am so, so, so sorry.” I jerk off of him to put the candle back on the beside table.
I feel horrible but about thirty seconds later when I turn back to Wolfie he’s fucking laughing. “It’s not funny!” I whine.
Tears are threatening to spill from my eyes as I look at the red splotches forming on his chest. They’re only from the heat, luckily the candle made good for its safe on skin promise and didn’t actually burn him.
He goes somber when he seems to realize I’m genuinely upset
“Oh, baby, no. Look, you didn’t hurt me for real. Come here.” He holds a hand out to me but I don’t take it immediately. “It’s okay, Gemma, really.”
He wiggles his fingers for me and finally I let him take my hand. He jerks me forward so that I end up splayed half over him. The cooling wax is just warm enough still to stick slightly to my skin, making it almost feel like we tried to glue ourselves together.
Ignoring the stickiness between us, Wolfie uses his legs to maneuver me over until I’m covering him.
Well… covering him as much as my smaller form can cover his gigantic one.
He rubs my back in soothing, gentle touches as I calm my breathing. I had quite the scare, made all the worse by how sweet he’s being about it after I very nearly could have actually burned him.
He’s not bothered in the slightest, though. As evidenced by the way his dick starts to harden again, pressing insistently against the inside of my thigh as it begs for attention. I shift my leg slightly to rub against him and Wolfie puts a firm hand on my ass.
“Don’t start what you’re not ready to finish,” he warns.
I don’t want to bother with pretenses.
“Condom?”
He tilts his head down so his eyes can meet mine. He wants to ask if I’m sure, but I don’t want him to even have to ask. I scoot myself slightly down his body so that he’s no longer pressed against my leg.
My body’s ready for him.
He reaches his arm back and stuffs his hand under one of the pillows on the bed. When he pulls it back out he’s got a whole string of condoms in his fist. I raise an eyebrow and he just grins.
He’s ready for me, too.
There’s a bit of shifting involved as he makes us both flip over so that he’s on top. I don’t dare complain as my mouth practically waters at the sight of him rolling his condom on. I can feel candle wax all around me but I stop noticing the second he’s inside of me.
Wolfie fucks me slow.
Not the same slow, exasperating torture that Cyrus subjected me to while I was handcuffed. Thank fuck for that. Instead, Wolfie’s kind of slow feels sensuous and purposeful—a gift, not a tease.
He wraps a hand around the back of one of my thighs and lifts it so that he can better fit his big body between my legs. The new position also comes with the advantage that he sinks deeper inside of me, forcing a long, low moan out of me as my back arches up to meet him.
I can’t go long like that. Before I know it, an orgasm takes me over the edge, causing me to convulse on the bed until all my energy is zapped.
When I feel somewhat human again, I open my eyes and look up at Wolfie, his eyes soft on mine as he continues to fuck me with the same slow strokes. Wanting to throw him off a little, I purposely squeeze my muscles so that my pussy tightens around his dick.
He flinches so hard he loses his balance and falls flat against me.
I don’t mind so much the way his weight settles heavily on top of me for a moment, but something makes me panic when his hips start to jerk more unsteadily.
I push at his chest until he raises up again—though it takes a lot more effort than it should at the moment—and I know without a doubt that he’s about to cum. But the sight of his chest covered in wax stirs something inside of me.
“Cum on me,” I whisper.
“What?” he questions me in a strained voice.
I thump at his chest again. “Pull out and cum on me.”
“Fucking hell…” His voice is pinched and uncomfortable but he’s quick to do exactly as I’ve asked.
He barely manages to rip the condom off of himself before he erupts, cum spraying all over me and also the bed. The hand he keeps on his cock to try to control the mess doesn’t do a hell of a lot of good. Not that I mind, as he coats me in a thick layer, the scene is exactly what my mind imagined.
As he finishes off, I admire the way he’s covered in hardened wax while I’m covered in wet cum. It’s a fucking mess—there’s no doubt about that.
But I also start to feel myself growing hot and bothered all over again.
I’m a little disappointed when I realize how heavily he’s breathing. He must realize it, too, because as he collapses back on the bed next to me, he promises, “Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll see what I can do about an encore.”
