On Sale for Christmas

Gasping at the pleasure of being made to touch myself with a houseful of people not far away, I asked, "You want to turn me on by helping me fuck some stranger?"

"Do you like that word?"

"Oh, god, yes," I whimpered, my breath puffing steam into the air.

Fuck, I loved that word.

He took my admission as an invitation, tugging at the zipper of my jeans, and slipping his hand into my panties. It happened as simply as that. We hadn't even kissed yet, but he was suddenly fingering me, and I was letting him! More than letting him. Encouraging him with every little motion of my hips.

"You are a bad girl," he said, obviously delighting in finding me soaking wet.

I couldn't hide it or deny how turned on I was. Especially when he shifted me in his lap and felt—well, let's just say he was either rock hard for me or had a very big candy cane in his pocket.

Meanwhile his thumb circled through the wetness between my legs and threatened to turn me into a puddle. What the hell had I gotten myself into?

Even working my way through a string of bad-boy boyfriends in the city, I'd never felt so bewitched by a guy. "Not a bad strategy for seduction," I whispered, panting a little bit, afraid of where he was going with this. More afraid that he'd stop. "Corner a girl in a freezing garage, get her talking about her fantasies, pretend like—"

"I'm not pretending anything," Ben said, so seriously it made me swallow. "You wanna fuck for money, Becca, and I'm gonna make it happen for you if you let me. But right now, I want to get you off."

I'd never imagined Ben could even say something dirty, much less put such sex-appeal behind it. He was pressing all my buttons—literal and metaphorical. And I could no longer remember why I ought to resist. Moaning, I pushed back against his lap to feel his erection. He slipped his free hand over my shirt, capturing my breast in his hand and squeezing it. Oh. I didn't expect how pleasurable it would be to have his entire palm close over it—and I pressed my back tight against his strong chest.

"Oh my god," I whispered as he fingered me faster, slip-sliding expertly over my clit, the rough pad of his finger skating between my soft folds. "Ben…"

"What?"

"I dunno. Nice guys don't do this kind of thing."

"Yes, they fucking do," he said, biting the soft flesh below my ear and holding me tight against him. "But just how bad of a girl are you? Are you gonna scream, so that everybody inside knows you came for me under the mistletoe? Or are you going to beg me to cover your mouth?"

I was going to come for him. I couldn't hold it back even if I'd wanted to, and I didn't want to. I was insanely turned on. "C-cover," I stammered, sweat breaking across the back of my neck. Every muscle tensed in my body and I felt entirely at his mercy, in his lap, in his arms, being brought off by a guy I'd known all my life, but who was apparently a complete stranger.

He rubbed in just the right way, urging me to roll my hips, pinching my nipple through my shirt and bra, nibbling down my neck to my shoulder. Moments later, the first wave of pleasure began to peak. I yelped just before it hit me full force, and he released my breast to yank my head back.

He covered my scream with his mouth, which closed over mine in a kiss. A firm kiss. A capturing kiss with firm lips and a conquering tongue. A kiss that tasted like cinnamon cookies and eggnog and burned hotter than a Yule log. A kiss that went on and on, stealing my breath and swallowing my orgasmic screams as pleasure washed over me.

A kiss that didn't let up until after I'd shuddered the last spasm…

My eyes blinked slowly open to find his face near to mine. His eyes disarmingly adoring. I didn't know what to say, so I just panted.

He grinned. "Still think I can't handle you?"

Oh. He'd handled me. But a girl has her pride. "Could've been a fluke."

"Not a fluke."

"Prove it," I said, twisting around in his lap so that I could kiss him without getting a crick in my neck. I wanted him, now. My sex drive was raring to go. I wanted to rip his clothes off, so I started right in on his zipper.

But he caught my hands. "That's probably not a good idea…"

He was probably right, but given my state of arousal, it was the only idea. "You started this, Ben. And now you're wussing out?"

"Oh, I'm not afraid to take it all the way." His breath puffed out, a flush on his cheeks as he angled me so that I could feel just how ready he was to do just that. "But when we kissed just now, you tasted—well, awesome—but a lot like rum. I think you're a little drunk and I don't want to take advantage of that any more than I already have."

Ug. Goddamn it. Of all the times for him to revert to type! Didn't he know that I was turned on by the risk, the recklessness, the sheer unexpected heat of our random encounter? "Thanks Dad, but I can hold my liquor," I said, freeing one of my hands so that I could tug on his tie. Sure, I blamed the eggnog for getting myself into this, but now that

I was in it, I wanted more. "And by the time I climb off you, maybe you'll think I'm the one taking advantage of you."

He grinned at that, and nipped lightly at my bottom lip. "Trust me, I want you. Pretty much more than I've ever wanted anything in my life. But it's going to have to wait until after our reindeer game."