by K B Cinder
“Nope. I’m one of your hos.” I waved my ho sign proudly with a grin, Karine losing her shit all over again at the sight of it.
He chuckled, a warm rich laugh that melted any anxiety I had about coming face to face with him again. “Sage is going to be thrilled.”
“I bet.”
I hadn’t considered how ticked he’d be seeing me dressed like Santa’s workshop working girl. Let alone seeing me around Dash all night long. Even if we didn’t talk to one another, we would be guilty of some slight against him.
Karine took a seat on Dash’s thigh, patting his other for me. “Let’s go. Picture time!”
I reluctantly sat as the camera guy counted down from five, Dash’s body hot against mine.
Karine stuck her tongue out while I smiled, Dash’s hand splayed on my side. His fingertips burned through the flimsy material, reminding me of the last time his hands were on me.
His scent was everywhere, leaving me drunk on him, even after the picture was taken. Karine sprang up, but I was slow to rise, not quite ready to lose the contact. Dash knew it, too, grinning as my eyes drifted back to him.
It was going to be a long, long, long night.
Hours later, my feet were threatening to fall off, but I kept a smile on my face, waving my ho sign merrily. The hunky elves were doing can-can dances, so I had to do something to keep up. Especially as the only ho, dammit.
Karine bounced between raiding the candy table and dancing, her drunken rendition of the robot one of the funniest things I’d seen in years. I recorded it to show her in the morning, not quite as cruel as she was, or I would have stuck it right on Insta.
The crowd had grown considerably, and I silently prayed none of my kiddies’ parents would show. The last thing they needed to see was their kid’s kindergarten teacher dressed like Mrs. Kinky Claus.
The coast was relatively clear, however, just a handful of familiar faces in the crowd. None seemed to notice me, at least, leaving me alone in my ho-ey goodness.
That is, until Sage appeared with a date on his arm, a tall redhead whose silky, smooth hair waves and generous curves would make Jessica Rabbit jealous. She was dressed in a glittery emerald minidress, the polar opposite of Sage’s casual jeans and fleece pullover.
Once his eyes fell on me, his face instantly flushed as red as his date’s hair, charging through the throngs of party-goers toward me like a heat-seeking missile.
I yelped and dipped back into the hunky elves, tripping over my own two feet and stumbling like a newborn giraffe until I landed in Dash’s lap, who was still seated in his Santa throne in all his sexy glory.
That only made the situation worse, Sage downright homicidal when he saw us, my hand awkwardly gripping Dash’s exposed abs. “Juniper, what the fuck?” Sage roared, chest heaving with rage.
“I’m a ho!” I defended, Dash helping me to my feet as I teetered in my sky-high heels.
Not exactly the best response, admittedly.
“I can tell!” he exploded, taking a step toward me with a finger pointed at my face, the angriest I’d seen him in years.
Dash sprang to his feet and stepped between us, holding up a pausing hand at his much-larger friend. “Sage, relax, and don’t talk to her like that.” He looked like a trainer handling a raging bear.
His words did nothing, Sage all but spitting fire. “Who the fuck are you to tell me how to talk to my sister? What is this? What are you two doing?”
“Volunteering.” Dash didn’t speak for me about us, sticking to his word. He was leaving the ball firmly in my court. About us. About Sage. “It’s all in good fun. Relax.”
“Then why is she dressed like a goddamn prostitute?” Sage snarled.
I didn’t want to be rude and point out that his date’s outfit showed more cleavage than mine, or that I’d seen him out with girls whose asscheeks hung out of their shorts. Interesting how his standards differed from person to person.
Dash didn’t back down or get riled at the venom in Sage’s voice, maintaining a level head. “You’re making an ass of yourself, dude. Take a chill pill.”
Sage dropped his date’s hand, his fists balling at his sides. “If you touch my sister, I’ll destroy you.”
Dash held his ground, his body blocking Sage’s eyes from cutting through me. “Not before destroying yourself over nothing. Go get a drink, or take a walk. Calm down, hot head.”
I caught a glimpse of Sage’s date, who looked more than uncomfortable, her glossy lips twisted as she watched the scene unfolding before her.
I wanted to reach out and hug her. She didn’t deserve to be my brother’s flavor of the hour. No one did. He’d make her feel like the woman of the year before dropping her like a bad habit. At least that’s how it usually went.
“I’m not done with you,” Sage warned before turning away, his shoulders stiff as he rolled them back.
I wasn’t sure if he was talking to me or to Dash, and it didn’t matter. Either way, I knew Sage was an impossible obstacle to overcome.
In time, party-goers started to want pictures with the elves and I rather than Dash, and I found my cheeks aching from smiling constantly.
Initially, it was weird, but that was before I relaxed and started to have fun with it, joking around with photo buddies. I fell into a rhythm, and time flew by.
I would have kept going, too, if I wasn’t afraid of collapsing, my sore feet demanding a break. I excused myself to head to the back for a shoe breather. I needed one to make it to two in the morning.
Bodies bumped to the music, some literally bumping into me. Karine was among them, living her best life with liquid courage lubing her head to toe.
One unwelcome touch came from Brandon’s elbow, the pointy joint jabbing my rib as he danced with Clare, his arms looped around her waist as he macked all over her. Weeks earlier, the sight would have left me in tears, but now all it did was make me smile.
I continued past them, his jaw dropping once he saw me. Clare followed his stare and pushed forcefully against his chest, making me smile wider despite my sore cheeks.
I found the back hallway quiet, but a few guests were still lingering to and from the bathrooms. I headed through a door into the kitchen and pushed through another on the opposite side into a long, stark-white hallway, a quiet place to unwind at last.
I leaned back against the wall to stretch with my heels still on, the bottom of one pressed to the wall as I flexed my hamstring. I switched to the other, almost toppling over in surprise as the door I’d strolled through popped open.
Dash closed it behind him, hazel eyes scanning me in concern as he pulled his ridiculous fake beard down to loop around his neck. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, my feet hurt.” I kicked my heels off as I said the words , the linoleum fabulously cool against my sheathed feet. “It’s not ladylike to walk around shoeless in front of company.”
He raised a suspicious brow but didn’t come closer. “Nothing to do with someone named Finger sucking all over a woman’s neck?”
“God no!” I laughed, rolling my eyes. “They deserve each other. I still hope they both get the shits and whooping cough simultaneously, though.”
He shook his head slightly with a slow smile. “I guess I shouldn’t have had them thrown out then?”
“What?”
He shrugged sheepishly. “I thought he upset you, so I took out the trash.”
I burst into giggles, my hands clasping over my mouth to muffle them. He looked on with a wide smile as I rolled against the wall in laughter.
“That’s awesome!” I managed between giggles.
“Just sticking up for my girl,” he sighed.
My girl. It made my heart flutter like a giddy teenager.
“Have you been back here before?” he asked, running his thumb along his lower lip as he studied the long hall.
“No. Sorry if I’m not allowed in here. I just wanted some quiet for a minute.”
“I’m the captain, remember?” he c
huckled. “You can go wherever you’d like. My kingdom is yours. As long as you don’t carve my firetrucks, that is.”
I grinned, peering down the long hall. “Do you sleep here?”
It was random, but I was dying to know how anyone could survive a 24-hour shift. I’d need a nap or metric shit-ton of coffee.
“Yeah, we have sleeping barracks upstairs.” He smirked, biting his lip softly. “Want a tour?”
I nodded, and he crossed the space between us, lifting me unexpectedly. My legs automatically wrapped around his waist, discovering just how happy he was to see me between them.
“Can’t have you walking on sore feet,” he explained, nuzzling my neck. “Santa’s orders.”
We staggered down the hall in a pool of giggles, my arms drunkenly slack from laughter, my discarded heels dangling behind his neck from my fingertips.
He rounded the corner and mounted a spiral staircase, his grip tightening on my hips as we went round and round into the sky.
We’d have a hell of a lot of explaining to do if someone came across us. He didn’t exactly have me in a fireman’s hold.
The walls upstairs were framed in yellow drywall, hiding the cold, white cinderblocks that reigned supreme in the rest of the firehouse.
A faux fern and well-worn couch decorated the common area, a garish green and gold rug coating the floor. The space lacked cohesion or styling, a hodgepodge of looks tossed together with movie posters taped to the walls.
Regardless, it felt like home. The camaraderie was evident, video game controllers strewn about, hand-written notes of encouragement pinned to the cork square above the couch.
“This is where I whoop my men in Call of Duty,” he informed, waving a hand at the space. “I’m on the winner’s wall up there.”
Sure enough, there was a weathered leaderboard on the far wall lined with names, Dashiell Bane sitting pretty at the top.
He continued down a narrow corridor, glossy oak dividers separating twin-sized cots, navy privacy curtains dangling from rods in front of them, some closed, some open.
He stopped at one toward the end, a six-by-eight-foot area at most. “Welcome to my home away from home,” he announced, setting me down.
Atop the cot lay a thick blue blanket, the pillow a crisp square that looked as comfortable as a rock. A picture of his parents sat on a small side table, a stack of books beside them.
“Read between calls?” I asked, eyeing his collection. Frankenstein. 1984. Great Expectations.
“Yup.” He looked as proud as a peacock, his shoulders back as he surveyed his area. “Eventually, being the big man on the Xbox gets old.”
“Oh, I’m sure the struggle is real,” I sighed with a laugh, crossing my arms over my chest.
“It is,” he mumbled, a slight smile in his voice, his eyes focused back to me.
He wasn’t talking about work. Or Xbox. Or reading.
He proved it by stepping closer, his mouth hovering above my ear, the fake beard hanging from his neck scraping against my costume. “Did you have a chance to think?”
“About?”
I thought about lots of things.
Work.
The kiddies.
The upcoming break - ten blissful days of sleeping in and super-sized, sticky-sweet breakfasts.
Oh, and him.
“Don’t play coy with me, petite. I take it that you don’t want to try us out?”
My heart skittered at the us.
So, he wanted more than physical, after all, the realization hammering home like a wrecking ball through the doubt.
“I don’t know what I want,” I admitted, swallowing nervously. “Do I want to try the us? Absolutely. But I don’t want the fallout. I can’t come between you two. I can’t…”
“Instead of telling me what you can’t do, tell me what you can do,” he dared, cutting me off. “What do you want, Juni?”
“You.”
It was a simple, one-word answer, but the results were anything but, his lips crashing into mine. Just like the last time, conditions quickly deteriorated, logic and reason lost in the flames.
We tumbled into his cot space, the curtain aggressively closed to hide our sins. He fell onto the cot with me on top, a position we quickly realized was a no-go in the cramped space.
He sat up, our mouths still making magic, my legs wrapped around his waist as he planted his feet on the floor. His fingers drifted to the front of my costume, lingering above the zipper before pausing and breaking our kiss.
His eyes asked the question before his lips could, one I answered with a nod.
He slid the zipper down as I pushed the Santa coat off his shoulders, revealing a hot, hard torso of steel, two suspenders stretched down over his abs. Hot damn. I tugged them down, too, more than ready to get the show on the road.
As the zipper reached my navel, my breasts popped free, happy to be free from the squeeze of the velour. Dash took full advantage, his mouth meeting the exposed flesh while he hooked a hand around back to unfasten my bra.
“Fuck, these are amazing as I imagined!” he groaned, catching a nipple between his lips.
I wasted no time undoing his belt while he was distracted, a quick tug on his pants and boxers setting his cock springing free. And fuck it was worth the wait.
He lifted me then, setting me on my feet, slowly sliding the costume the rest of the way off, taking my stockings with it. I was left in nothing but pink panties, the old hipsters not the sexiest member of my panty collection for sure.
You wouldn’t know it looking at Dash, however, his eyes on me like I was the most desirable woman he’d ever seen. I felt on top of the world.
His thumbs hooked in the waistband at either hip, inching them down slowly until I was completely bared. He opened a drawer on his bedside table, fishing his fingers in his wallet and returning with a condom that he quickly unwrapped.
I struggled to keep my jaw from dropping as he fully removed his pants and boxers, rolling the rubber over his length. I barely had a chance to pull my eyes from it to his face before he pulled me forward to his lap, easing inside in one, slow thrust.
Our bodies met and I was lost, leaning back with my hands on his knees while I took what I wanted. What I’d craved.
As I went down, he surged up, matching me stroke for stroke. The rickety cot squeaked as I rode, creating a racket the music downstairs didn’t muffle one bit. The slap of our skin joined the desperate squeaks, creating a filthy melody to drown out the voices in my head.
The ones telling me how wrong the act was.
The ones warning me of the scorched Earth to come.
But first, it was my turn, Dash’s hand slipping between my thighs to rub my clit, the motion coaxing me higher and higher before he forced me down, the harsh thrust taking me over the edge.
He followed me there, joining me in orgasm, our moans of pleasure meeting before fading into satisfied sighs.
He pressed a kiss to my forehead before lifting me off of him, grinning up at me wickedly as I stood naked before him. “Break time is over. Back to the grind, Mrs. Claus.”
We couldn’t keep a straight face while we got dressed, every layer of costume more ridiculous than the first time.
“How do you want to do this?” he asked, smoothing my hair into place as I zipped up, forcing my boobs back in their prison.
“Do what?” I shimmied to make sure everything was secure. “I’ll go out first. You follow a minute later. No one will notice.”
He took a deep breath, eyes meeting mine. “Not that.”
My mouth formed a small O, mind suddenly blanking. I had no idea how we’d do anything. Honestly, I hadn’t thought beyond sex. Somehow that seemed like it’d fix all our problems. God I was a mess.
“Can we talk about this when we’re not Christmas characters?” I asked with a laugh, stepping into my heels, ready to run for it. We’d been gone long enough for people to notice, and I didn’t need to face Sage head-on yet.
“Really?” he scoffed, pressing his fingers to his temples.
I pulled the curtain back, adjusting my shorts a final time. “I have to go. We’ll talk later. I’ll text you.”
It wasn’t ideal, but we didn’t have time for a relationship powwow.
I hurried passed the cot stations and back into the common area, heels clicking down the metal staircase. They continued to echo down the long hall toward the kitchen, its door opening as I neared.
I stopped to avoid the collision, a head popped around the wood a heartbeat later, leaving me face to face with Sage.
Fuck.
15
Sage tilted my chin up with his index finger to study my face. “You okay, Juni?”
“I’m fine.” He should be more worried about himself. He was the one having more mood swings than Mom in the weeds of menopause.
He let out a long, low breath, unmoved in my answer. His green eyes showed nothing but earnest concern for me, all traces of anger gone. “I’ve been looking for you. I saw Brandon with the girl, and I couldn’t find you…”
I waved a dismissive hand, stopping him before he got carried away. “They’re yesterday’s news, dude. Don’t worry about it.”
We had much bigger fish to fry. Ones I didn’t want to reel in. I was too afraid of what was waiting on the line.
He knew me too well, sensing something was up. “Are you sure? Have you been crying?”
“Nope.”
Far from it.
His green eyes narrowed as he scrutinized me. “Don’t lie, Juni. Your face is beet red.”
Oh God.
“I’m overheating in this stupid costume.” I fanned my face for effect, hoping he’d believe the act. It was hard to think anyone could be hot with so much skin exposed, but it was worth a shot.
“Just know that if he bothers you again, I’ll smash his balls with a dumbbell. I promise.”
“Thanks,” I laughed, not wanting to picture that crime scene. “I take it you’re done hating me?”
He’d texted me a handful of times during the week, but things hadn’t quite recovered from Thanksgiving Eve. Any headway we’d made was annihilated by his earlier freakout. With me, at least.
