Meet Me Under the Mistletoe

by M. Robinson

  He’d respected her wishes. He’d stayed the fuck away from her. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from keeping tabs on her, though, even though every piece of information felt like losing her all over again. Cael had almost gone to her after her husband’s death six months ago, would have if not for her soft words still ringing through his ears from the last Christmas ball.

  I’m not for you, Cael O’Malley. This was only ever a temporary escape.

  As if the strength of his thoughts drew her, Eleanor looked up and met his gaze across the ballroom. She looked good. She always looked fucking good. At forty-seven, she’d never been one of those senator’s wives who tried to downplay her sexuality, though she’d also never flaunted it. A careful balance. He’d always wondered if it exhausted her to continually dance on that knife’s edge of public opinion. The one time he’d asked, she’d laughed the question off.

  Tonight, she’d leaned a little more to the sexy side. Her pale blond hair was pulled back from her face in an elegant style that left her neck and shoulders bare. Like his aunt, Eleanor had gone with black for this event, wearing an off-the-shoulder dress that clung to her breasts and then fell in a straight line to the floor.

  Eleanor held his gaze for a long moment, the room seeming to still around them, though he was distantly aware that they were the only two affected. Finally, she turned, breaking the connection, and headed toward a doorway leading to another hallway filled with festive lights.

  Cael was moving before he made a conscious decision to follow. Rose grabbed his arm. “Where are you running off to?”

  He barely looked back at her. “Bathroom. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Rose released him with an arched brow. “Uh-huh. Enjoy the party, cousin.”

  He was already gone, cutting through the swathe of dangerous people in expensive clothing. They didn’t matter, and Rose would be fine without him. Even if everyone wasn’t determined to be on their best behavior, Rose was more than capable of taking care of herself. She was heir, after all, and Cael knew all too well what was required of the heir to a mafia family after watching his sister walk that path.

  None of it mattered tonight.

  He stepped into the hallway Eleanor had disappeared down. Within a few steps, the low hum of conversation from the ballroom faded, leaving a careful quiet. He forced himself to keep a slow pace as he moved farther and farther from the main party.

  With a start, Cael recognized this hall. It was the same one they’d come down last year, tipsy and leaning too hard on each other. Part of him still couldn’t believe it had ended the way it did. His bruised heart knew the truth, though.

  He stopped in front of the doorway into the dim sitting room he’d only been in once, but was imprinted on his memory all the same. It looked a little different now, but he’d know it even without the faint light streaming through the large windows overlooking the yard.

  And there, standing in the circle of light as if a specter from his dreams, stood Eleanor.

  His need to touch her drove him forward a step before he managed to leash himself. Cael slipped his hands into his pockets and stopped just inside the doorway. “Eleanor.”

  “Hello, Cael.” The first time they’d spoken, her low voice had surprised him. Now he craved hearing his name from her lips on a level that made his hands tremble.

  “I’m surprised you attended. You’re not a senator’s wife any longer.”

  “No. I’m not.” She turned away. “Maybe my memory is hazy, but I don’t remember you being cruel.”

  “Things change.” Not his connection with her, though. He took another few steps into the room. “I was never cruel until you gave me reason to be.”

  She sighed. “That’s not fair.”

  It wasn’t and he knew it. Cael gave in to the desire to move closer. He stopped next to her, their shoulders just shy of brushing. He’d never been more aware of negative space than he was in that moment, especially when he caught a hint of her expensive perfume. Something that reminded him of her voice, smooth, low, and tempting. He dragged in a breath like it might be his last, categorizing every little detail. “If you want me to leave, I’ll leave.”

  Eleanor finally turned to look at him. Even as he told himself not to, he shifted to face her as well. This close, she looked even better, though there were new lines at the corners of her eyes. She’d weathered a rough six months between the last holiday party and when her husband died and it showed. It didn’t detract from her beauty, though. If anything, it only accented it.

  A bare six inches separated them, and it took everything he had not to reach for her. He’d done that before, more times than he could count. He’d given in to the offer in her blue eyes, to the sinful words she’d spilled in his ear as he pulled her close.

  They’d done it in this very room.

  A reckless thing to do with the party going on nearby…a party her husband was attending. That night wasn’t the first time they’d snuck around together. Several years ago, Cael’s father had sent him to smooth over a conflict with Senator McKinley, to figure out what he wanted in order to change his mind about some policy up for vote. Cael hadn’t meant to get close to his wife in the process, but Eleanor was obviously the brains behind their operation.

  One thing led to another. And another. And another. At least until the party last year where she’d cut him off.

  Cael cleared his throat. “You made your thoughts about me pretty fucking clear last time.”

  “Cael.” She lifted her hand, but let it drop before making contact with his chest. “My husband had just been diagnosed with an incurable disease. I couldn’t leave him. Not then. Not like that. Not even for you.”

  Fuck, but his chest ached. He stared down at her gorgeous face. For a year, Cael had done everything he could to purge the memory of their time together, but every little stolen moment with Eleanor was tattooed on the inside of his skull.

  It always came rushing back when he least expected it. It fucking hurt. “You treated me like your little fuck toy that you played with until you got tired of me, and then you tossed me aside like yesterday’s trash.”

  “No. It wasn’t like that.” She reached for him again.

  He caught her wrist before she made contact. A mistake. Touching her again, even like this, was enough to snap what little control he had. Cael traced his thumb over the faint blue veins he could see beneath her skin. “Don’t lie to me, Eleanor. You can lie to them all you want.” He jerked his chin in the direction of the party. “But not me.”

  Even though part of him wanted to keep the contact as long as possible, he made himself release her. It hurt too fucking much to touch her when he couldn’t have her. And he couldn’t. He knew what it would look like to the outside if people knew about them. The senator’s wife with the pristine reputation. The son of an Irish crime family. Messy didn’t begin to cover it.

  “Condolences on the loss of your husband, Mrs. McKinley.” He took a step back and then another. “Enjoy the rest of the party.”

  * * *

  Eleanor should have let him go. She shouldn’t have come here at all tonight, with even the smallest chance of running into Cael O’Malley again. But then, she never should have touched him in the first place.

  Should wasn’t something that had ever applied to her and Cael.

  “Wait.”

  Oh, how she loved that. A single soft word could stop this brutal, dangerous man in his tracks. He turned to face her and she took a moment to simply drink in the sight of him. Cael was cut from the same cloth as his father, tall with dark hair and green eyes, but he was built thicker. Thick chest, thick torso, thick thighs. His tux was perfectly tailored but it did nothing to hide the fact he had the physique of a brawler.

  How many hours had she spent worshipping this man’s body? More than she could count, and yet nowhere near enough.

  He was twenty years younger than her, but it didn’t matter when they were together. He made her feel young in a
way she’d never been allowed when she was actually in her twenties. She certainly wasn’t allowed it now.

  “Cael.”

  A fine tremor went through him when she said his name. “Don’t, Eleanor.” His rough voice had her fighting back a shiver. “Just… Fucking don’t.”

  He was right. She knew he was right. But she suddenly didn’t care. She moved forward, her gown swishing with each step, and pressed her hands to his broad chest. “Cael, I miss you.”

  “Goddamn it,” he whispered. “I miss you, too.”

  The only warning she got was a slight tensing of his muscles against her palms and then he closed the distance between them and banded one arm beneath her ass, lifting her until their faces were even. His gaze snagged on her mouth and stayed there. “You want this?”

  “Yes.” Need made her voice shake. “I want you.”

  He closed his eyes for a long moment and she thought he might put a stop to this. Eleanor opened her mouth to say… She honestly wasn’t sure, because he kissed her before she could get a word out. At the first stroke of his tongue against hers, she melted against him.

  This. This is what she needed.

  Eleanor sank her hands into his hair and kissed him back, putting every bit of longing and need she’d stored up over their long year apart into action. He wouldn’t believe her words, but maybe he’d believe this.

  It had been real for her, too.

  Impossible and fatalistic, but so incredibly real. She’d loved Cael O’Malley, even though she knew from the first moment they crossed the line that she could never have him. Not truly.

  He walked them back to a nearby couch and sank onto it. Her dress got tangled up around her legs, and she made a frustrated noise against his mouth. Cael responded by fisting the fabric and yanking it up to her waist. Just like that, it was only her panties and his pants between her…and his giant cock.

  She gasped at the feel of him. It had been so long. So incredibly long. Eleanor rocked against him, a desperate whimper slipping free. “Cael.”

  His hands moved beneath her dress, stroking up and down her thighs before finally settling on her hips. He dipped his thumb beneath her panties, tracing the edge down her ass. “A temporary escape.”

  She jerked back to search his expression. There was a time when Cael O’Malley was an open book just waiting to be read by her. No longer. All she could see was fury and lust. “What?”

  “That’s what you said to me at this very party last year. That I was a temporary escape.” He tightened his grip on her hips. “Well, you’re going to be my temporary escape tonight, Eleanor.”

  God, it hurt to hear him say that. The entire time they were having an affair, all she could see were the barriers between them and a future together. Now that so many had come down, she wasn’t sure what she wanted.

  No, that was a lie.

  She wanted Cael O’Malley.

  “What if it wasn’t temporary?”

  “No.” He shook his head sharply. “You made all the calls for us before. That’s over now. Agree to my terms or this ends now.”

  His terms, which were a bastardized version of hers previously. It was nothing more than she deserved but it felt like he’d reached one of those massive hands into her chest and clutched her still-beating heart. She cleared her throat. “If that’s what you want.”

  “It is.”

  It was nothing more than she deserved. “Then yes. I agree.” She’d take what little she could get, even if it meant more hurt later on. It was worth it. Cael was worth it.

  “So eager,” he muttered against her lips. “You’re always so fucking eager to prove them all wrong.” He slid his hands into her panties, palming her ass and kneading her. “You play the polished saint for the public, but we both know the truth.”

  “Yes,” she breathed.

  Cael urged her to rock against him, rubbing herself up and down his length. They were nowhere near close enough, but it felt so good. He leaned back to look at her, the deep shadows of the room threatening to make a stranger of a face she knew as well as her own. “Tell me what you are, Eleanor.”

  The feeling she’d been missing for twelve long months swept through her, making her dizzy with need. She rested her forehead against his and closed her eyes. When she spoke, the words were barely above a whisper. “I’m a dirty little slut.” His inhale made her pussy clench, but if she only had one shot at this, she would make it count. She licked her lips. “I’m your dirty little slut, Cael. Only yours.”

  His hands spasmed on her ass, digging in harshly. “You say it so easily, I almost believe it’s true.”

  It had been. It still was. She had a feeling it always would be, though Cael wouldn’t believe it. Not now. Perhaps not ever. “It is.”

  “No, it’s not.” He released her abruptly, yanking one hand out from beneath her dress to clasp the base of her neck. He bent her back a little, kissing down her neck and dragging his mouth over the curves of her breasts through her dress.

  And then his other hand was there, stroking her pussy through her panties. “So wet,” he murmured. “So fucking eager to let me in when the ball’s going on. There’s not even a closed door between us and the rest of the guests.”

  It wasn’t the first time they’d snuck away from some event, all desperate hands and filthy words. She shivered as he dragged her panties to the side and pushed a single blunt finger into her. “You get off harder knowing someone could walk in, don’t you, Eleanor.”

  “Yes.” She tried to keep her moan quiet, but she couldn’t think properly with his hands on her again after so long apart. “Cael, please.”

  He fucked her slowly with that single finger. It wasn’t enough. He knew it wasn’t enough. He was just teasing her, tormenting her. “Please what?”

  “I need more.”

  “Mmmm.” He dragged his thumb over her clit lightly. Still teasing. “More what?”

  She moaned. “More of you.” Without thinking, she tugged down the bodice of her dress to bare her breasts. Cael froze for several rapid beats of her heart. Just when reason threatened to take hold and ask her what the hell she thought she was doing, he cursed and descended on her breasts. He pushed a second finger into her even as he sucked hard on her right nipple, drawing it to a tight point before moving to the left one and giving it the same treatment.

  He withdrew his fingers, but she barely had a chance to make a sound of protest before he lifted her and reversed their positions, her on the couch and him kneeling between her thighs. Cael held her gaze as he pushed her dress higher and higher, bunching the fabric in his large fists until she was bare from the waist down the same way she was from the waist up.

  And then he just looked at her.

  She tensed, her gaze flying to the door on the other side of the room. The couch faced it, but they were deep in shadows, only the faint light from the moon through the windows relieving the darkness. The lights from the hall itself didn’t reach their position.

  “Anyone could see you.”

  She jerked her attention back to find him watching her. He’d never looked as dangerous as he did in that moment. Eleanor shivered. “I know.”

  “That just gets you hotter, doesn’t it? You’re practically naked and dripping for an O’Malley.” He smirked. “Not so pure now, are you?”

  “I was never pure. Not with you.”

  “I know.” His jaw went tight. “That’s what I loved about you. You only gave that part of you to me.”

  Before she could fully process his words, he dipped down and dragged his tongue up her center. She jolted. “Cael, you can’t.”

  He paused, but he didn’t move away. They were both breathing as if they’d just run a long distance. She could feel his harsh exhales against her clit. Each one sent a wave of shivers through her body. She felt feverish and needy and not at all herself. God, she’d forgotten how it could be with him. No, that wasn’t right. She’d made herself forget. She’d had to, for her own survival.
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br />   Finally, he said, “Do you want me to stop?”

  She might laugh if she could draw a full breath. No. Never. When she finally managed to speak, she had the right words, the ones he’d accept. “Cover my mouth.”

  Cael’s green eyes flew to her face. “What?”

  “You know I can’t keep quiet when you have your mouth on me.” She wrapped her fingers around one of his wrists and brought his hand up to her face. “Cover my mouth,” Eleanor repeated.

  He held her gaze as he pressed his palm more firmly to her mouth. “Hold your dress up.”

  She scrambled to obey, yanking her dress even higher and spreading her legs wide. Cael chuckled darkly against her center. “So eager. Always so fucking eager to play the slut for me.” He inhaled deeply as if drinking in her scent and then his mouth was there. The first lick was perfectly controlled. Even the second. But on the third, he lost it.

  He growled and then he shoved his tongue into her pussy. She moaned against his palm, and that only spurred him on. There was no finesse, no control, but even though it had been a year since they last touched, they’d been lovers before that long enough that he knew exactly what she needed. He always knew what she needed.

  Cael played with her until she was panting and shaking and gripping her gown so tightly, it would undoubtedly be irreparably rumpled when they were done. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but him shifting up to rub her clit gently with the flat of his tongue. Pleasure wound through her, tighter and tighter, until it was so acute, it was almost painful.

  And that’s when she heard the voices coming down the hall in their direction.

  Eleanor tensed, but Cael didn’t stop. He didn’t even seem to register that they were about to be caught. Or maybe he didn’t care. She grabbed his hair with one hand, but he ignored her, still working her clit in that motion that had stars dancing across her sight.

  Oh god. She was going to come.