Jingle Ball (More The Merrier) Read online

  “Roll over.” He snatched her ponytails, yanking them while he positioned himself behind her. He trailed his cock over the crack of her ass, making her moan, before sliding down and powering into her drenched slit.

  “Fuck yes. Give me that pussy.” He crushed her to the mattress, still stunned he could even do this again so soon. It was a banner frigging night. Seeing that round ass bobbing in front of him, feeling that brush of fingers that let him knowing she was touching herself again, urging them both to that point there was no coming back from—God, he couldn’t take it.

  His body went on auto pilot and his hearing dimmed, tuned only to Wendy’s keening moans and her moisture bathing his cock. She rocked back to meet him and he gentled his hold on her hair, releasing one of her ponytails to rain a light series of smacks on her ass. Testing to see if she really enjoyed that sort of play or had just tolerated it to please him and Cole.

  She cried out and shuddered through a brutal climax, contracting around him so violently that he used her hair to pull her up again to make sure she hadn’t passed out. She mumbled unintelligible words, her hips still racing under his, her nails digging into the sheets.

  “Oh baby. You’re incredible.” He plowed into her until the sexy line of her spine and the curve of her ass blurred. Until his life’s purpose distilled to emptying himself in her. Giving her all of him, even when he’d been sure there was nothing left. There was always more, with her.

  Des shouted as his release jetted deep into her body. There was so much a little trickled out around him, which didn’t exactly help in bringing him back down from his high. By the time he finished pounding into her, even his damn balls were sore.

  He collapsed atop her, knowing he shouldn’t. He should move.

  Yeah, he should do that. Someday.

  “Des?”

  Now he was hearing voices. At least they knew his name. “Mmm?”

  “Why wouldn’t you make love to me before? With Cole?” She rushed ahead. “I thought…God, I thought so many things. But I want to hear the truth from you.”

  Somehow he summoned the strength to roll over and draw her into his arms. She belonged there. If he hadn’t known that before tonight, he was damn certain of it now.

  “That guy Johnny who raised me? He was my mom’s best friend. After she died, I ended up with him and his wife. They divorced when I was in college and he died a couple of years back.”

  She stroked his chest. “I’m so sorry. What about your dad?”

  “He wasn’t really in my life. He had another family, and they took his focus.”

  This time she didn’t say anything.

  “They met at work. She was his receptionist, and he used his advantage to get exactly what he demanded from her. I was the unwanted consequence.” The words pressed on his chest, imprinted there like a tattoo he’d never wanted. “She never got over their relationship. Over losing him. Then I lost her too soon too.”

  She was quiet for so long that he craned his neck to take a good look at her. She was staring at him, eyes wide and wet. “You could’ve told me, Des.”

  Shaking his head, he let out an abbreviated laugh. “How?”

  “Just like this.”

  “Yeah, after I’ve been inside you.” He gazed at the ceiling. “I tried, Wen. I really did. It was stupid, thinking that with all we’d done I could still pretend I wasn’t like him. I did everything I could to make it clear to you it had nothing to do with your job, and I never took advantage all the way—” He pinched his nose, unsurprised it didn’t relieve the pressure gathering in his head. “It was all just a bullshit game. All these weeks of denial… I lied to myself. Worse, I lied to you.”

  “You did? I must’ve missed it.” She crossed her arms over his chest and leaned forward so that her hair trailed over his skin.

  He couldn’t stop the shudder. God, he had so many plans for that hair and her mouth before the night was through.

  If she didn’t tell him to go to hell.

  “You didn’t lie, Des, you just didn’t tell me everything. And that’s okay, because I didn’t tell you everything either.” She pulled back, retreating even further when he pinned her with his stare. “Maybe we should hit pause right here.”

  His stomach knotted. When she was nervous or upset, the southern in her voice grew more pronounced. Usually he couldn’t get enough of it. At the moment, the rich, silky tones only increased his need to command her to tell him every secret she had.

  He was no expert, but he figured that meant he was in love with her. Or possibly a burgeoning psycho.

  Inhaling deeply, he turned her face toward his. Whatever it was, he’d face it with her. He’d be damned if he gave her up now. “Tell me.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut, blocking him out. “I’m in love with you.”

  * * * *

  At least he didn’t laugh. She supposed she couldn’t complain at his lack of response or how he went as still as a corpse. He was still her boss, after all. They had their working relationship to think about, and despite his revelations, he might not be ready to take things public. Or maybe he just didn’t care for her that way.

  She could handle it. She’d handled much worse.

  “I don’t expect you to love me back.” Wendy reached for his hand. His skin was hot to the touch. “I just needed you to know. Every time I was with you and Cole, I wanted it to be just us. You and me, like it was tonight.” She glanced around her woefully tiny bedroom and sighed. “Though I wish we’d been at your place. This bed is one Des-powered thrust away from collapse.”

  He laughed, and her tension seeped away. Well, most of it. “I like your house.” He kissed her collarbone with little serpentine flicks of his tongue. “We still have a tree to put up, you know, and Chinese to eat. I also might’ve gotten you a gift.”

  “I don’t have anything for you,” she protested.

  Grinning, he caressed her still sensitive pussy. “Oh yes, you do. Santa says thank you.”

  She forced herself to grin. To be lighthearted, jolly and sexy. “I have a feeling Santa will be even more pleased with me by the end of the night.”

  When he rolled away from her and reached for his clothes, she made her peace with her revelation. Whatever happened after tonight, she would be fine. She felt lighter and heavier, all at once. If she hated him just a little for his honor in not even bothering to pretend to love her, she’d get over it eventually.

  Getting over stuff was one of her new skills. Along with her speedy typing and her skillful cock sucking, she was on her way to becoming a damn dynamo.

  They decorated her tree and scarfed down the Chinese while they watched an all-night Christmas movie fest. He caught her eyeing his gift and plopped it in her lap, making her open it despite her complaints.

  “You shouldn’t have done this.” She pulled on the ribbon and gave into her urge to shake the box. It barely rattled. “How about I buy you lunch next week—” She thumbed up the lid, biting her lip. “Oh.”

  “I know you said you didn’t like music boxes, but I wanted to try to change your mind. Or at least maybe improve your opinion.” He popped the lid of the carved crystal box, unveiling a small skater on a pond who did figure eights in front of a charmingly decorated house to “I’ll Be Home For Christmas”.

  God, she was getting misty again. What the heck was going on with her hormones?

  She blinked rapidly and smiled. “It doesn’t sound tinny.”

  “No. Took some doing to find one that didn’t in a shop that was still open on Christmas Eve. I got lucky.” He touched her cheek and made her look at him. “You don’t like it.”

  “You’re right, I don’t like it—I love it.” She grinned and kissed his scruffy jaw. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Maybe it was the way his eyes twinkled or the lateness of the hour, but an explanation tumbled forth before she thought to stop it. “My dad used to buy them for me. He gave me one every Christmas.”


  “I didn’t see them in your room.”

  She glanced down at the skater, still moving in methodical circles. “They’re in boxes, packed away. I haven’t been able to stand looking at them for so long.”

  “If this is too painful for you—”

  “No. No,” she repeated, rising. “In fact, I want to show you one of the others he gave me. I think you’d like it.”

  He accepted the hand she extended and stood beside her. “Show me.”

  They ended up looking at all ten of her music boxes. He didn’t seem bored by the accompanying stories and even helped her dust each one off and clear a bookshelf to display them. It was awfully crowded, but at least they weren’t in boxes anymore.

  No matter what happened between them, she had him to thank for that.

  Just before three, they crawled into her bed and took their sweet time tearing up the sheets she’d neatly remade. With her body warm from his, she dropped deeply into sleep, smiling at the weight of his arm on her belly.

  The sound of knocking jerked Wendy up on her elbows. Another knock, louder this time. Blearily, she swung her head around to search for the source.

  Shit. Fuck. Damn. Someone was out in the hall.

  She snatched the sheet and held it over her bare breasts as she shot a glance at Des, who was happily sawing them off.

  “Hang on,” she called out, scrambling up so fast that she caught her foot in the comforter on her way to the cold hardwood floor. “One more minute.”

  Too late. The door was already opening.

  Just as she glimpsed her mom and aunt’s shocked expressions, she realized that her graceless tumble off the bed had bared her lover’s impressive morning wood for all to see.

  “Merry Christmas,” she muttered.

  Chapter Eight

  To her mom’s credit, she didn’t freak out at finding a strange man in her supposedly single daughter’s bed. Aunt Gert was a harder sell, wailing about violating the sanctity of marriage and such, but her mom got her settled down and out of the house before she shattered any windows with her screeching protests.

  Then it was just Mrs. Stanton, Wendy, and Des—who’d yet to stop grinning despite being ogled by two senior citizens before breakfast.

  And his secretary. His secretary had definitely done her share of ogling too.

  Since her mom was feeling good, she made them a breakfast of whole wheat waffles and turkey sausage. Discovering Des was a vegan made her mom’s eyes glint. The one thing she’d disliked about Wendy’s dad was his refusal to give up hunting. Des’s love of animals definitely erased any lingering effects from finding him naked in Wendy’s bed, though once she’d learned who he was she hadn’t been too upset. She knew how Wendy felt about him.

  Hell, from the way she was glowing that morning, the mailman could’ve figured it out.

  “Wendy never stops talking about you,” Mrs. Stanton said, ignoring Wendy’s plaintive groan. “You’re every bit as handsome as she said.”

  Des continued sipping his coffee. He didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed by that morning’s events. “Your daughter’s too kind.”

  “Not too kind. Wendy’s just grateful as all get out for everything you’ve done for us. She’s downright effusive about you. You’ve changed our lives for the better, son. Sweet Mary, you even brought us a beautiful little tree.” She shocked the hell out of Wendy by getting up to kiss Des flush on the mouth. “Thank you so much.”

  Though Des smiled and returned her embrace, his jaw had gone hard and tight. “Wendy’s a wonderful secretary and an even better person. You raised a terrific daughter, Mrs. Stanton.”

  “Call me Noreen.” With that, she shuffled away from the table with her cup of tea. She probably had no clue about the stink bomb she’d just set off in the center of the kitchen.

  From Des’s expression, he was already choking on the stench.

  “Look, I can explain—” Wendy began the moment they were alone.

  “Don’t.” He tossed his napkin on the table and stalked to the window. It was snowing outside and looked as pretty as a damn postcard. Inside all she could feel was the arctic chill.

  She traced her finger over the wet spot on the table from her glass of orange juice. “You knew I feel grateful to you. You can’t be that surprised.”

  He didn’t speak for what felt like an eternity. “No. I’m not.”

  “Then?”

  The hunch of his shoulders might’ve convinced her he was cold if the apartment hadn’t been as hot as the surface of Venus. “I thought as much, but to have your mom say it is different.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He turned to face her, his eyes more turbulent than she’d ever seen them. “You’re not really in love with me. You just think you are because I helped you out.”

  Clearly, she was going to have to stand up for this conversation. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me.”

  “I did, but you’re talking nonsense.” She walked over to him and skewered her nail into his chest. He didn’t even wince. His pain receptors had likely gone into hibernation from all her scratching last night. “Am I grateful for all you’ve done for me and my mama? Hell yeah. You didn’t have to be so sweet to us. To me.”

  His stubborn nod made her want to kick him. “Gratitude and love are easy to mix up.”

  “Don’t make me kick you in the nuts on Christmas morning, Des. So help me, if you don’t let me finish, I will.”

  He didn’t smile, but he did gesture for her to continue.

  “None of that made me fall in love with you. I didn’t fall for my accountant who got me those extra deductions that saved me a grand last year. I didn’t fall for my garbageman when he said he’d take our old dresser even though the guidelines said it was too big. I freaking fell in love with you because you make me laugh without ever making me cry.” She swallowed over the rising lump in her throat. “At least not yet.”

  He stroked her trembling lower lip. She couldn’t stand how emotional he made her, but that was probably part of the whole love thing. “What about Cole?”

  “What about him?”

  “Are you grateful to him too?” he asked quietly.

  “Of course,” she snapped. “But I don’t love him. I only love you, you dolt.”

  Again he didn’t speak. But he smiled, so slow and wide that it teased out her own smile in response. “I believe you.”

  “As you should.”

  “I do.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “And I love you too.”

  Before she had a chance to whoop and holler her joy, he drew back and gripped her upper arms. His face was even more serious than before. “Will you start ripping off the days of my calendar again?”

  “You noticed I stopped?”

  “Of course I did. I had no clue which day was which anymore.”

  Laughing, she wrapped her arms around his waist. He was so warm and sturdy and God, he made her feel safe. And happy. So very happy. “I didn’t want the days to pass so I stopped tearing the pages off. Every one that went by I knew we were closer to being finished.”

  “We won’t ever be finished.” He ran his hand down the length of her hair. “In fact, I think we should take this upstairs.”

  “With my mom in the living room?”

  He only grinned. “The TV’s on loud. Besides, she’s already seen my equipment. Why not hear it at work making you moan too?”

  “Ugh! Your sense of humor is seriously disgusting.” She laughed as he dragged her toward the doorway.

  At the foot of the stairs, she stopped him with an impish smile. “Wait. I have one more question.”

  “What’s that?”

  She leaned close to his ear and spoke in a whisper. “What did Cole name my…pussy?” There, she’d said it. And she hadn’t even burst into hysterical giggles.

  But Des didn’t notice her inner triumph, because he was too busy laughing. “Sorry. He never told me.” With a wink, he chucked her chin.
“Guess you’ll have to ask him first thing on Monday when he gets back.”

  “Maybe I’ll just name your penises instead. Secret names that I’ll only share with Van.” As soon as she mentioned her friend’s name, she frowned. “What are we going to tell her?”

  “The truth. We’re a couple and that won’t change anything at work.” His expression softened and her knees literally went weak. “No more hiding, baby.”

  She fought not to do a booty dance but it was pretty much a lost cause. She added in one of her improvised carols as she jumped from stair to stair.

  When he made a grab for her, she squealed and ran faster with him hot on her heels. They had a ton of celebrating left to do.

  This year, Christmas frigging rocked.

  Epilogue

  “You need to tell me what to do.”

  Wendy sighed and toyed with the strand of leaves strung up around the front of her desk. “How am I supposed to tell you what to do about your love life? You do whatever you want, we both know that.”

  “Yeah, but your freaking love life makes me sick.”

  Wendy grinned at Van. Hers was pretty awesome, she couldn’t deny that. “That’s not a very nice thing to say when you’re asking me for advice.”

  “It’s a total compliment, I swear.” Van eased a hip on the edge of Wendy’s desk and blinked entreatingly. “You’re basically a romance expert now. So I’m coming to you to beg for assistance.”

  “You’re not asking for romance assistance. You want me to tell you how to bag Cole. And I can’t.”

  “Why not?” Van pouted and twisted the chunky sapphire ring on her thumb. “You don’t want me to be happy?”

  “Of course I do. But you just got out of a relationship and he’s…well, he’s Cole. Impossible to pin down.”

  Vanessa leaned forward and gave her a bright smile. “Not if you help me. We can ambush him.”

  Wendy raised a brow and reclined in her chair. It was the Friday before Labor Day weekend, and she’d just finished decorating the office for fall. Little light-up acorns and pumpkins adorned the front windows and fake leaves hung from every surface.