Unwrapping the Best Man

He’s so quick—one second I’m filled with his fingers, the next he’s yanked my thong aside and filled me with his erection. Yes. Pleasure streaks through my limbs, the ecstasy of it making my head roll back, my body arching as I plant my hands on the cold kitchen surface and feast on him. He’s hard, jagged, his thrusts taking his all to control and I ride him, urging him deeper, harder, with my bare heels pressing into his arse. And then his thumb is back on me, rolling over my clit, nursing every ache, taking me higher and higher.

‘Fuck Cait, what are you doing to me?’

I force my head up and look him straight in the eye. ‘Fucking you, Jackson, we’re fucking...’

The delicious heat is pulling my body taut and my breathy moans are getting louder. I hear the clatter of cutlery hitting the floor, but I can’t keep myself in place; it’s building too fast, too intensely.

I force my eyes to stay open, to see that he is with me, and watch his climax unfold. He roars with it, the pleasure cording his neck, through his body. It’s a sight I want to engrave in my memory, and I stave off my release just long enough to feed on his and then I am gone. The explosion sending my body upright and he pulls me in, holding me tight, whispering things that are far too sweet, far too soft for him to mean, but I’m listening anyway.

‘Some breakfast offering,’ I whisper when I can finally manage to speak.

‘It wasn’t what I had in mind.’ He presses a kiss to my shoulder. ‘I wanted to apologise.’

‘And you did. The sex was the icing on the apology.’

He laughs, low in his throat. ‘Friends again?’

I nod. ‘Friends...with benefits?’

He shakes his head as he holds me tighter against him.

‘What can I say? I truly am a naughty elf...’

‘If you’re offering me a private show in that number, friends with benefits it is.’

My heart gives a little leap; my tummy flutters alive. I want to ask if he’s serious, but Jackson doesn’t just say shit to keep people happy. He means every word that comes out of his mouth.

So why doubt the sweet nothings that came out of his mouth just seconds ago?

I know why. Because to believe them would mean believing in the possibility of more. And he’s made it clear. Never. Going. To. Happen.

I don’t dare lean back and look up at him for fear of what he’ll read in my face. Instead I wriggle in closer, indulging in a second’s more intimacy.

‘Now let me go,’ I say to the ground, my smile too big for my face, ‘so I can clean up and eat this amazing spread before it gets cold.’

He laughs softly and does as I ask. ‘Luckily, most of it seems to have survived.’

I crouch down for his T. ‘Bathroom?’

‘Back the way you came, second door on the left.’

‘Great.’

I feel his eyes on me all the way and give an extra little wriggle as I pull his T back over my head, feeling his come slick between my thighs. I’ve never felt so alive. Who’d have thought sex was a miracle hangover cure?

It’s not sex with just anyone though. It’s with Jackson.

I let myself into the bathroom and close the door, shut my eyes and lean back against it. I take the deepest breath in, seeking calmness, a way to talk down the chaos taking off inside me. The chaos that takes me down a dangerous path to wanting more...the more he’s incapable of.

But it’s

no use. I’m high on adrenaline, on sex, on him. I shiver as I recall how much he wanted me, how much he wanted to punish the naughty elf.

Elf, one.

Blondie, zero.

My smile freezes and my memory stutters to life, flashes of words that were said in the night. In the darkness. Jackson was with me in the bed, curled against me and...