Jingle Ball: More the Merrier

by Quinn, Taryn

  “Want me to turn it off?” Though she didn’t answer, he did it anyway then turned on her radio. “Better?”

  She pushed one of the soup cartons his way and offered him a small smile that never reached her eyes. “Much.”

  He sat down across from her at her desk and reached for his steaming cup of soup. She’d given him the squash. “Smells delicious. Here,” he said, scooping up some and holding it out to her with his other hand cupped beneath. “You should get the first sample.”

  “Such a gentleman.”

  “I think we both know I’m not.” His cock went painfully hard at the flare of heat that blossomed across her face as her lips slid over the spoon. “Good?”

  Nodding, she made a show of ripping open a packet of crackers. “Want?”

  He couldn’t stop staring at the subtle undulation of her throat while she swallowed. Good God, he was losing it. “Yes.” Her head bobbed up at his low, hungry tone. “I want.”

  She quickly changed the subject to something safe, and he didn’t try to guide them back to more dangerous territory. It was just as well they keep things semi-professional. Or as professional as things could be when he couldn’t stand up for fear of revealing his hard-on.

  Their lunch lasted all afternoon. The conversational topics ranged from work to friends to holiday traditions to random shit like their favorite TV shows. They were debating the pros and cons of the Giants versus the Bills when the phone rang. Wendy immediately reached for it, but he covered it with his hand. “It’s past three on Christmas Eve. Let it go to voicemail.”

  “But—”

  “As your boss, I insist you keep entertaining me with your devoted assurances that the Bills could actually win a Super Bowl someday.” He grinned and waved at her to continue. “As you were saying?”

  The next time the phone rang it was almost five, and it was pitch black outside. “Shit.” She bounced to her feet as if she hadn’t realized it was so late. “I should get home.”

  He nodded. “Your mom will be waiting.”

  “Oh, she’s got her own plans tonight.” She fluffed her hair over her scarf and laughed, but he heard the sadness behind the sound. “She’s heading to my aunt’s. They’re going to snuggle in with some movies and eggnog.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’m staying home.”

  “Alone?”

  “I want to. Really.” She grabbed her coat and was about to slip it on when he rounded the desk to do the honors. “See?” she asked breathlessly. “Told you that you were a gentleman.”

  He lingered with his hands on her shoulders longer than he needed to. Damn, her hair smelled as fresh as the inside of an icicle and as sweet as a candy cane.

  Oh, fuck, he did not need to think about candy canes. Not when she was smiling at him in the twinkling glow from the tree, her eyes deep and dark and way too aware of the energy all but pulsating between them.

  “I’m not going to argue, because that would just be redundant.” He lifted her ponytails over her coat and swallowed at the spill of her red hair. Once, just once, he wanted to see it across his pillow.

  Laughing softly, she grabbed the lapels of his shirt and leaned up to press her mouth to his. She tasted of her peach iced tea and moved back way too soon. “Merry Christmas, Des.”

  “Merry Christmas, Wen.”

  Once she was gone, he sat at her desk and stared at the tree until the lights blurred. If he’d ever felt more alone, he didn’t remember it.

  It didn’t have to be that way. They could both be alone or they could be together. Fuck the consequences.

  He pulled out his phone. He’d have to get his ass in gear if he had any hope of pulling this off.

  * * *

  Christmas Eve and what was she doing? Giving herself a pedicure while crying over It’s A Wonderful Life. Later she’d give her props to Santa by curling up in her winter’s nest with her vibrator.

  Fa-la-la-flipping-la.

  Wendy wiped her damp cheeks. Van had called to make sure she was okay and she’d lied through her teeth. Sure, she was dandy. So what if she was alone on the worst night of the year? She’d chew up her loneliness with the same zeal she’d disposed of Aunt Gert’s fruitcake.

  No regrets here, baby.

  At least her purple passion toenails looked all sparkly. She’d just paint the strip of silver polish on the tips and—

  The doorbell rang and she nearly jolted off the couch. The bell didn’t exactly ring so much as give a depressed fart of air that passed for music. Had Mom decided to have Aunt Gert drive her back early? If so, where was her key?

  Cursing her toe separators, Wendy hobbled to the door. On the way she cast a glance at herself. Her hair was still in pigtails and she wore ripped leggings and a hot pink sports bra. They kept the apartment at a zillion degrees to make sure her mom didn’t have a relapse with her pneumonia, so the minute her mom took off, Wendy stripped down.

  She peeked out the curtain, though the porch light of their two-family house was out yet again. “Who is it?”

  No answer, but her mom was hard of hearing. Just in case, she dumped the silk flowers out of the vase on the side table and swung it above her head, ready to strike, as she yanked open the door.

  Oh, shit.

  She blinked, almost wishing it was a lunatic intent on robbing her of all three of her worldly goods. Because then she wouldn’t have to mentally berate her floppy hair and raggedy clothes and the fact that Des was carrying the world’s tiniest Christmas tree and a wrapped gift as if he were bringing joy to the poor and decrepit.

  Which he kind of was.

  He looked her up and down, not smiling. Not reacting at all until he noticed the vase she still gripped like a weapon. Then he started to laugh.

  “Don’t hurt me, please. I come bearing gifts.” He held out his miniscule tree and the wrapped box, slaying her with a grin that made her hold turn slippery on the vase. “Can I come in?” he prompted when she only stared.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “It’s stupid for us both to be alone on Christmas, don’t you think?”

  “But—”

  “Let me in, Wendy.”

  She stepped aside and he walked inside, bringing a wave of cold air with him. She shivered as he shut the door, but she didn’t let go of the vase. Right then she needed something to hold on to.

  “A little chilly for that kind of outfit, isn’t it?”

  When she didn’t speak, he sighed and set down his pathetic little tree—the last from the lot at the end of the street, by the looks of things—and his gift, along with a plastic bag that he’d procured from under his coat. It smelled like Chinese food.

  Her belly rumbled and he smiled, arching a brow. “So you don’t want me or my tree, but you’ll take my eats, huh?”

  Smiling weakly, she shoved the silk flowers back in the vase and set it on the table. Her gaze darted from the shabby multicolored rug to the equally threadbare sofa to the crappy dollar store pictures she’d framed and hung in an attempt to give the place some life.

  And Des stood in her hall in his spendy leather coat and pricey sneakers and designer jeans. She wanted to throw up.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “You shouldn’t be here.” She flung a glance at her boxy old-fashioned TV where little Zuzu was talking about an angel earning her wings. Lines scrolled across the bottom, for God’s sake. “I can’t do this.”

  “Why shouldn’t I be here? I want to be.” He stepped closer and took her suddenly cold hands in his larger warm ones. “I thought you could use a tree, but you don’t have to put it up if you don’t like it. That’s not why I came.”

  She angled her head. “So why did you?”

  His beautiful eyes burned into hers. “Because I couldn’t think of anyone else I’d rather spend tonight with than you.”

  Her wobbly heart plummeted straight to her toes by way of her lady bits. Every spot on the way tingled. “Sure you’re not just doing yo
ur holiday good deed?”

  “Actually, I am. I hope to be repaid in blowjobs and eggnog. Sound good to you?”

  She couldn’t help laughing as she waved at the living room. “Go on, go sit. I’ll just change.“

  “No. You’re fine.” He rubbed the indent in her chin. “I’m not company. I want you just as you are.”

  “Do you hear that dripping noise?” she whispered when she could finally speak.

  He frowned. “No.”

  “That’s me, melting.” His slow grin turned that melting thing she had going on into a total winter thaw. Especially between her legs. “I didn’t know you could be romantic, Des.”

  “It’s probably because I’m getting ready to romance a veggie egg roll in extra duck sauce. It’s my one Christmas non-vegan indulgence and I’m feeling all lovey dovey.”

  She laughed and went back into the hall. “I’ll serve the food and you can put up the tree.” She knelt, noticing the paper bag on top of the gift. She dug through it and shook her head, hoping the motion would discourage her tears. He really had thought of everything. “Mini lights? And ornaments?”

  “I forgot the star.”

  “Gonna dock your pay for that one.”

  “The drugstore didn’t have much left, but I figured those would—”

  Before he could finish, she shot to her feet and whirled into his arms, clamping her mouth down on his so hard that he let out a grunt. Then he was returning her kiss, his lips as icy as the frost that clung to his coat. He streaked his hands up her spine to tug on her hair, using it to pull her head back so he could plunge even deeper into her mouth. He was practically fucking her, just with his tongue instead of his cock.

  She broke away and gasped for air. “You’re still my boss.”

  “I don’t care about that. It won’t change anything.” His palms came up to frame her cheeks, and when his face dipped to hers, she realized he was shaking. They both were. “Just let me love you.”

  He didn’t mean it the way it sounded. That wasn’t possible. But her body already missed his. So what if the word “love” from Des’s mouth for any reason made her long foolishly for more? She was a pragmatist, and she didn’t expect miracles.

  Her rundown apartment and her job suddenly didn’t factor in the decision. This wasn’t about any of that. He didn’t feel sorry for her. It also wasn’t about Cole or quick office fucks, as amazing as they had been.

  There was a world of secrets in his eyes and she wanted to learn them all.

  “Come with me,” she murmured.

  Seven

  Her bedroom matched the rest of the house. It was sparsely decorated and the overhead light left the corners in shadows. Not counting her desk. That was bathed in a purple and yellow shimmering glow.

  He grinned. “You have a lava lamp. You didn’t even live through the sixties.”

  “No, but I loved them just the same. You should’ve seen my room back in Tennessee. I had a black light and fuzzy posters.” Biting her lip, she walked to the full bed. “Sorry, it’s kind of small.”

  “That’s okay. We’ll just stack up double-decker.”

  She laughed and flipped one of her ponytails over her shoulder. “Do you want a drink first? I have soda and eggnog. Coffee too.”

  “I’m fine, thanks.” He came up behind her and snagged her full hips in his hands. She was rounded in all the right ways, and his cock wasn’t the least bit bashful about showing its appreciation. “I just want you.”

  She slipped away and opened the nightstand drawer. “I don’t think I have any condoms. I haven’t bought any since—” She sighed.

  “Since when?”

  “Since I came here. I thought I might’ve had some stashed from home, but they’d probably be duds anyway.” She sat down heavily on the bed. “I’ve never had a guy in this room.”

  “Am I supposed to be disappointed about any of these things? Because I’m not.” He sat down beside her and rubbed her thigh. “I have some.”

  “Of course you do. You and Cole are always prepared.”

  He didn’t miss the note of dejection in her voice. He turned toward her, waiting until she did the same. “I’d like to not use them tonight. I’ve never…” He exhaled. “I’ve never gone raw with a woman.”

  “What about with a man?”

  “No. There’s only been Cole and some dude in college. I just tried it with him to see if I was really bi.” He glanced down at his hands. “The experience sucked, so I decided it was just about Cole for me. And only when we’re with a woman.”

  “You’ve known Cole a long time.”

  “Yeah. We met in high school in Maine. We came to New York for college and stayed.”

  “Was he born in England or something?”

  “You mean because he uses the word ‘love’ as an endearment?” At her nod, he chuckled. “He was an exchange student in London for one semester. I think he tries to sound British to get women going.”

  “It works for Van. She swoons every time he starts that ‘love’ stuff.” Wendy picked at a loose thread on her comforter. “When did you and he, you know, start doing it?”

  Considering everything she’d done with them, he found it incredibly charming that she could still be shy. “We didn’t have sex until we shared a girl at our prom senior year. We’ve been together sporadically since then. If you’re wondering about my sexual history, I’ve been tested recently. I’m clean.”

  Wordlessly, she crawled into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her tongue parted his lips, tasting. Exploring. Giving him back something he hadn’t felt for way too long.

  Hope.

  They didn’t move from that position for what felt like hours. His lips felt bruised by the time he finally dragged her sports bra over her head and bared her beautiful breasts. The light from her lava lamp played over her skin, showcasing the dark nipples that beckoned his mouth. He kissed each one in turn, drawing deeply, not stopping until her soft sighs led him to bury his hands in his hair and lift her back onto the heaping pile of pillows. They filled almost half of the bed and cradled her as she extended her arms to him. He stretched out on top of her and tucked his nose against her throat, just breathing in her sultry jasmine scent while she stroked his back and tangled their legs.

  Shit, the room was too warm. He quickly shucked his clothes, though all that did was remind him exactly how small the bed was. Still, it was hard to complain when she flashed him a bewitching smile and settled back with her sexy red hair draped over the pillows.

  This was finally going to happen.

  She shifted against him, lining his still eager cock up with her pussy. He yanked at her leggings, needing that barrier gone. As soon as she was naked, he inched down the bed and threw her legs over his shoulders, wasting no time in opening her for his mouth.

  Slowly, he trailed his tongue over her hot, wet slit, sinking into her over and over. Journeying from her plump clit over her trembling entrance all the way down to the pucker between her cheeks. She was like an erotic version of that kids’ doctor game—each destination earned him a new sound. A helpless cry, a long sigh, an urgent moan. They left no doubt as to what she liked.

  Normally, he tried to be a little more precise when he was going down on a woman, but the scent of her desire combined with the tightening of her thighs around his head destroyed his finesse. He wanted her taste inside him by any means possible. She arched, shamelessly grinding against his face until she finally gave in to him on a rippling wave that left her sensitive flesh quaking around his tongue.

  He slid back up her body to kiss her, wanting her to know how much he loved pleasing her that way. She whimpered, spanning his stubbled jaw with her fingers to hold him still as she licked his tongue clean.

  “Fuck, you’re hot.” Groaning, he cupped her still twitching pussy. He pushed two fingers inside her and absorbed the clenching spasms that instantly overtook her again. “I want in you. Bare.”

  Wendy’s drowsy eyes locked o
n his. Her nod told him she understood he wasn’t demanding anything. It would be her choice. “It’s okay.” As if in silent acquiescence, more of her arousal dampened his palm. “I’m still on the pill.”

  He didn’t wait. Couldn’t. He’d spent so long telling himself this couldn’t ever happen. That he wouldn’t risk their work relationship—or her.

  Now she was beneath him, her nails scraping up his back as he circled her with the tip of his cock. Goddamn, he’d known she would use her nails.

  She braced her heels on the bed and rose up, engulfing his length in one slow roll. She moaned at the sensation of him bottoming out inside her before he drew back and forged forward again. He set a punishing rhythm, determined to pay his way in orgasms. It was a shitty penance for taking her like this, but he’d known he would only be able to resist her for so long.

  They weren’t the typical boss and secretary, and they’d fucking make their own rules. They’d make this work.

  She cupped her breasts, thumbing her stiff nipples. The gesture almost seemed unconscious until she coasted her hand down her torso to encircle him where he pumped into her pussy. She gripped him at the base, squeezing him while her wicked eyes danced in the shifting light from her desk lamp. Purple streaks highlighted her hair and added shadows that made her lips look even more full.

  Oh, fuck, those lips.

  He surged into her until he couldn’t go any farther, brushing her clit with every pass. Crushing her fingers between their bodies, adding an extra layer of friction.

  The wilder he stroked into her, the more fiercely the nails of her free hand scored his back. She reached down to grab his ass, hauling him into her so roughly that he couldn’t hold back his shout. The bedframe rammed against the wall, likely gouging out the paint, and still he swiveled into her, finding angles that nudged her to new heights. He grasped her breast, massaging it while she sucked him balls deep. She was so tight and slick, and she met his thrusts beat for beat. That she was as close as he was to the edge turned him on almost as much as the unrelenting grip of her pussy.

  Des gazed into her hazy eyes. In them he saw so much more than passion. She was open to him, all the way. Body, soul and heart.