The 25 Men of Christmas

by Cassie James

  “It meant meaty like places where you might have a little extra fat, you know, your ass, the back of your thighs. Not your hamstring!”

  I stop actually listening to her somewhere around “ass.” I snag her wrists in my hands, tugging them away from my thigh and up my body. I drag them all the way up over my aching cock and quivering abs and keep going until they’re resting just over my wildly beating heart.

  I can hear her breath catch in her throat, and I know her thoughts aren’t stuck on her out-of-this-world ass like mine are, so I have to assume that she feels the crackling electricity in the air around us, too.

  Her fingers splay against my chest as I lean in to capture her mouth in a bruising kiss. I pry her lips apart with my tongue, caressing the inside of her velvety mouth in the second before she starts fighting for control of the kiss.

  I drop my hands further down her body, resting against her thick hips, massaging them for a moment before circling my hands around her ass and dragging her closer to me. The feeling of her heat pressing against my throbbing cock is almost enough to make me let go of my control.

  But only almost.

  I steer her toward the bed, backing her knees against the side as our lips and tongues continue their battle for dominance. When she starts to fall backwards, I follow her, jamming my knee between her legs and bracing myself on my knuckles as her hands trace a frenzied path up and down my body.

  The velvety warmth of her hand wrapping around my dick catapults me to the present, and it’s with no undue amount of reluctance that I pull out of the kiss that has both of us panting. Gemma moans in protest, and I swear my already rigid dick goes even harder at the needy sound.

  “Roll over,” I growl out as I take a step away from the bed.

  Gemma props herself up on her arms, eyes going dark as I hook my fingers in the waistband of my boxers. She sucks her lip between her teeth and groans when my dick springs free, jutting away from my body in a proud salute as I kick the boxers across the floor.

  I reach for my bedside table, but my fingers fumble on the knob when Gemma pushes herself all the way up into a sitting position. She slides toward the edge of the bed, and my protest dies on my lips when she reaches her fingers between her breasts to unfasten a clasp my short-circuiting brain never would’ve helped me find.

  Her tits fall out of the bra, heavy and full, and I yank the drawer open to dig for a condom. Keeping my mind focused on the simple task is the only thing that stops me from completely coming apart when she slides back toward the middle of the bed, arching her hips and sliding her panties down her thighs in a move that’s so innocently erotic it’s painful to watch.

  For my dick. Not me.

  “Gemma,” I breathe out on a groan, and she smiles at me before spreading her legs and dropping her fingers to her pussy.

  That won’t do at all. No woman of mine is going to pleasure herself when I have two hands, a mouth, and a cock aching to get the job done. Her smirk is devilish, and I swear this woman is going to give me a goddamn heart attack if she keeps up this game of teasing.

  I fist my cock as I bring the foil pack to my mouth, using my teeth to help tear it open. This first time? It’s going to be rough and fast and dirty, and then I’m going to get her in the shower where I plan to fuck her until her screams are echoing off the tiles as I make her come apart under the hot spray of my shower. And I’ll follow all that up with bringing her back to my bed and fucking her and eating her out until she’s fully satisfied and her legs are jelly.

  Until then…

  I roll the condom over my straining, throbbing cock and join her on the bed. I sit back on my haunches, letting her have another short moment of fingering her glistening folds before I lean forward and snag her wrist and pull her hand away from her pussy and toward my mouth.

  Gemma moans when I suck her fingers into my mouth, swirling my tongue around them as I taste her arousal while she squirms on the bed.

  Her fingers slide from between my lips with a pop. Her eyes hood as she stares up at me, and I smirk at her in the same devil-may-care sort of way she’d looked at me with earlier. “You will never have a reason to bring yourself pleasure when you’re around me, sweetheart. That was very naughty of you, and you know what happens to naughty girls, right?”

  Gemma moans at the filthy promise in my question. “What happens to naughty girls?”

  “They get spanked. Roll. Over.”

  She squeezes her thighs, legs pressing tightly together, before rolling onto her stomach. Her hips lift from the bed almost on instinct as I lean forward to grab the ridiculous paddle. My jaw clenches at the sight of her slightly raised ass, and I test the weight of the paddle in my hands as I crawl toward her, swinging a knee over her legs before settling back on my haunches with her thighs trapped tightly between my knees.

  Gemma squirms, ass wriggling as she moans, and I can barely focus long enough to land a gentle strike against her ass when she turns her head to peek over her shoulder at me. Our eyes lock as I try again, this time a little harder. She jerks when the paddle connects, so I use my free hands to massage her ass, to take the sting away from the pink-tinged skin.

  “Raf,” she moans, and my name’s a siren song on her parted lips. I strike her again—this time just a little harder—and she jerks harder, ass sliding up to press against my dick, and that’s it. I know I’m done for.

  I toss the paddle to the side as I grab handfuls of her generous ass, content to massage the hurt away as she squirms and moans beneath me. I push her hips back toward the mattress, before I take my dick in one hand and spread her apart with the other. Gemma tilts her hips toward me again, and I swear my eyes nearly get lost in the back of my goddamn head when I slide my cock home inside of her.

  I fall forward as she presses up against me, catching myself on shaking arms before I piston my hips in and out of her. Gemma pushes herself up on her forearms and turns her head, offering me her lips to devour as I fuck her like my life depends on it.

  And you know, at this point, my life actually might depend on it.

  “Fuck the paddle,” I groan, “I’ll finish spanking your hot ass later.”

  Thirty-Seven

  Gemma

  December 20

  I can feel Declan’s eyes on me throughout practice. I tried to make my escape earlier, not wanting to be under the watchful eyes of the team as I continuously shift from foot to foot. Cyrus wasn’t having it.

  I’m sure he knows exactly what’s got my cheeks perpetually pink today.

  And he’s really enjoying it a little too much.

  My ass still stings from getting a little too over zealous with Raf and his paddle last night. Of course, all the guys already know about it and are going out of their way to make up excuses for me to sit down.

  “Hey, Gem? Come here and check my leg, won’t you?”

  I let out a soft groan as Luis beckons me over. His leg is perfectly fine and we both know it, but I can’t very well ignore him, or Marty will have my ass.

  I force a smile on my face as I tread over to the bench where Luis is sitting casually, one leg out in front of him as if it’s actually bothering him or something. For a split second, worry hits me until I see him trying to conceal a smirk and a quick glance behind me.

  When I follow his gaze, I see Raf and Cyrus exchanging words and obvious looks in our direction. They definitely put Luis up to this.

  I squat down, wincing as my ass hits the back of my heels.

  “Where’s it bothering you?” I ask in a tight voice.

  He grins. “You tell me.”

  A strangled noise escapes me.

  “C’mon, leave her alone,” another voice chimes in.

  I look over just in time to see Declan leaning down to take me by the elbow and pull me back up to a standing position.

  “Thanks,” I mumble, though I’m not sure he hears me over the sound of Luis grumbling that Declan’s ruining all the fun.

  Declan doesn’t care.
Nothing ever really gets to him. He has this way of quietly seeing past the obnoxiousness. He knows Luis doesn’t actually mean anything by his words, just as well as I do. As Coach sends Luis back onto the field with a, “Stop fucking around!” I feel Declan slide closer to me.

  “What are you—”

  His palm settles against my lower back. I nervously glance over at the coaching staff—the last thing I want right now is to have them asking questions I don’t have answers to.

  Declan’s hand slips down over the curve of my ass, and I let out a sharp gasp that I try to hide with a forced cough. He cups my ass through my thick jogging pants. They’re not quite so thick that I can’t feel the way he caresses the underside of my butt cheek with his fingers.

  He cops quite a feel before Cyrus calls for him from the field.

  My mouth falls open as he gives one last thorough rub over my ass before letting go. Once he’s back on the field, he catches my eye and winks in my direction.

  I’m totally floored by the whole exchange, even if it’s over in a matter of minutes.

  Declan doesn’t take risks or get handsy, not like a lot of these other guys. There’s only one explanation, really—Declan is day twenty.

  He wouldn’t dare step on another man’s toes, and he certainly wouldn’t be putting himself out there unless he felt sure of the outcome. And if today’s his day—he’s not wrong about the outcome. Nothing in the world could stop me from sleeping with Dec.

  I already know exactly how he’s going to be in bed because it’s going to be how he is in general. Attentive. Thoughtful. Caring.

  My sore ass could definitely use a little of that today, too.

  Thank you, universe.

  I watch the guys finish out the last of practice as I stand back, trying not to move and draw any attention to myself for fear of them coming up with another excuse to get me sitting. They’ve enjoyed reminding me of last night’s adventure a little too much.

  I have a feeling if things continue after these twenty-five days, I’m going to have a few more spankings to look forward to.

  The idea isn’t altogether unappealing.

  I haven’t forgotten the way Raf rubbed the pain away… and then made me forget the pain altogether when he finally sank his dick inside of me.

  “Alright, pack it in guys,” Coach grumbles. As the team trickles over to the sidelines, he tells them, “You all look distracted as hell out there still, whatever it is better be out of your system before this season starts or so help me god—”

  His head assistant elbows him discreetly, which I just so happen to catch from where I’m standing.

  Coach clears his throat and officially dismisses everyone without any more chastising. I don’t miss the way the guys all seem to be smirking as they take turns shooting me devilish looks on the way back inside.

  I hope they never get me out of their system, I can’t help but think.

  Dec is the last one to head for the building. He pauses to nudge me forward with him, so I fall into step beside him on the way in. It’s casual, nothing suspicious about two co-workers walking together—I mean, except maybe for the part where Declan is walking slightly closer to me than what would usually be considered polite.

  None of the coaches seem to pick up on it. They’re all too busy grumbling about what a shitshow practices have been this past month.

  At this rate, I’m starting to really feel guilty about how badly the team’s been behaving because of me.

  “Don’t worry about that,” Declan reassures me, reading my thoughts easily. “It’s not your fault we’re a team full of horny heathens now that we’re all finally getting a chance to get our hands on you.”

  His eyes are soft as he watches me blush at his words.

  “Well, y’all better get your shit together, because I did not graduate top of my class to work for a losing team,” I joke.

  He grins good-naturedly as he holds the door to the complex open for me.

  Inside, we part our separate ways for the time being, Declan promising to catch up with me as soon as he’s showered and got his stuff together. He doesn’t clarify what I already know—today’s his day.

  As intuitive as he is, I’m sure he knows I know.

  I go work in my office for a while until I hear the telltale signs of the guys getting out of the locker room. I grab my purse and shrug on my coat and head for the door. I’m feeling admittedly a little impatient.

  I’m just locking my office door, my back turned to the approaching team, when Victor’s voice raises above the noise.

  “Declan? What the fuck are you doing?”

  I turn around just in time to see Declan trying—and failing—to sneak out of the cool down room unnoticed. His whole face is bright red as everyone turns to stare at him.

  He’s holding a clear plastic bag full of what has to be at least ten or fifteen pounds of ice.

  He tries sheepishly to look everywhere but at me even as I step toward him. “Dec?” I say his name much softer than Victor did.

  “I got this snowman ice cube tray thing, but I didn’t think it would be enough ice,” he blurts out. He shoots a glare at the guys before adding, “And I thought maybe after last night a good icing would do you some good.”

  “Ice cube tray? Like… that’s your item?” I have a lot of questions.

  Declan’s eyes light up like he’s got a lot of answers. Before he gets a chance to offer up any kind of explanation, Cyrus breaks through the crowd.

  “What the hell are you idiots doing?” He skewers Victor, in particular, with an unamused look.

  Victor mutters something along the lines of, “Just messing around.”

  “Uh-huh. Well I don’t exactly think the guy that couldn’t even wait until he made it to his date activity before getting his dick sucked has any room to be giving anyone else shit.”

  Victor’s face pales sheepishly, effectively put back in his place now. Cyrus really isn’t messing around about this arrangement of ours.

  I mean, I was pretty proud of my road head experience, but that’s neither here nor there…

  “Yeah, back off guys,” I finally chime in.

  When they look at me, every damn one of them looks as if they’ve been scolded like little boys.

  I reach out and yank the ice out of Dec’s hands before he can finish getting his protest out. “Ho ho ho,” I say as I toss the bag over my shoulder like Santa Claus. “See you guys tomorrow! Let’s go, Dec.”

  Declan’s left with no choice but to trail off behind me as we leave the rest of the Storms in our dust.

  I never expected to be so concerned about ice etiquette.

  I stare helplessly at the bag in my sink as the sound of Christmas music starts to drift over from the next room. I told Dec I would set the ice up for us but… I don’t actually know what that entails.

  Do I put it in a bucket? Are we using it now? Or am I supposed to stick the bag in the freezer for later?

  This is a lot more complicated than I would expect frozen water to be.

  An arm wraps around my waist from behind. “I turned the thermostat up, I hope that’s okay.”

  “Just be glad the heat’s actually working again,” I joke.

  “What are you doing in here?”

  I lean back against him harder and admit, “I didn’t actually know what I should do with your ice.”

  “Bring it with us.”

  I twist my body halfway around so I can look up and meet his eyes. “Are you sure?” Declan isn’t exactly the kind of guy you expect to skip straight to the sex.

  “Yeah… I think the best thing I can give you tonight is a break. So grab the ice and come join me.” I open my mouth to question him but he squeezes my midsection to cut me off. “Trust me, I’ll still enjoy this very, very much.”

  I’m all kinds of confused as he lets go of me and retreats back to the living room. Still, I grab the ice and follow after him.

  The living room is darkened, the only light
coming from the glow of the lights on the Christmas tree—which Dec must have turned on while I was in the other room. The soft glow bathes everything in a touch of Christmas magic.

  Music plays on a speaker Declan must have brought himself, really finishing out the mood of the room.

  He hasn’t done anything earth-shattering here, but it makes my heart clench all the same. Love isn’t about grand gestures, it’s about the details. The soft lighting, and the music, and a man who looks at me like the only Christmas magic here is me.

  “I thought I’d give you a choice, would you rather sit on the couch or I can spread some blankets out right here?” He gestures to a big open space on my floor between the TV and the coffee table.

  I point to that spot and nod.

  “I would like nothing more than to make a bed on the floor with you,” I admit. Mostly because I’m hoping if we’re on the floor that I can convince him to do a hell of a lot more than let ice melt on my sore ass.

  I’m still not actually sure what he’s planning with the ice.

  I set the bag aside to help him make a pallet on the floor. He’s managed to find more blankets around here than I even realized I owned. That would have been super helpful the night the heat went out… though Cyrus did do plenty to keep me from freezing…

  “This might actually be more comfortable than my bed,” I moan when I finally get to settle against the thick, makeshift bed we’ve made.

  Declan sits down next to me but he doesn’t budge when I try to pull him down beside me. Instead, he holds his place, staring down at me with so much affection in his eyes it makes my heart feel like it might burst.

  “This reminds me of my first Christmas without Mom.” I focus my eyes on the Christmas tree even as I feel Declan continue to watch me. “Dad carried both our mattresses out to the living room and we spent a whole week sleeping next to the Christmas tree. He was ready to do anything so that I’d stop crying that first year.”