Christmas Carol

“What kind of problem?” she snaps and it’s clear she’s already not happy. “What fool thing did you do boy? I swear, why are all the men in my life as empty-headed as a Mr. Potato Head?”

“Actually, if you think about it a potato head carries all his parts in his head, so he’s not that empty headed,” I argue, thinking I made valid points, while kicking myself for even trying to argue something logical when anything to do with Ida Sue is the exact opposite.

“Don’t get smart with me Cyrus. Now, tell me what’s going on?” Ida Sue snaps. I’d try to respond, but Carol picks that moment to wrap her hand around my wrist and pulls on it until I bring the phone down between us. On instinct my gaze moves to her hand. Her pale white skin against my much darker bronze tone hypnotizes me. It’s the electricity that flows through my body with her touch however that floors me. I’ve never felt anything like it.

“Ida Sue, is that you?” Carol asks, almost on her tiptoes and using her hold on my wrist to shift part of her weight.

What would she feel like completely naked and pressed against me?

“Carol! I see Cyrus found you and was just yanking my chain,” Ida Sue laughs. “How are you doing, sweet girl?”

“I’m good. It’s so nice to hear your voice. How’s Jansen? And Green and Kage? Are they still blissfully happy?”

“They’re good, darlin’. Things here are pretty good, except Magnolia is giving me trouble.”

“What’s wrong with Maggie?” she asks.

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong with her. She’s as stubborn as a mule in a house of heifers,” Ida Sue replies and I swear I try to listen to the conversation the two of them are having, but I literally can’t. My eyes close as the scent of vanilla and sugar hits me. Carajo! She even smells like a Christmas cookie.

I don’t even realize I do it, but I bring my hand down and tangle it roughly into Carol’s hair, pulling her head back and baring her throat to me. Her startled gasp surrounds me, and it makes my blood pump that much harder.

“Something wrong, Carol?” Ida Sue asks, but I ignore her too.

I’m pressing my face against the curve of Carol’s neck, running my nose against her sweet scent, and getting drunk on her. My lips press against the tender skin, and I smile at the evidence of her throbbing pulse. My nose rubs against her ear, and I bite the fleshy lobe, before whispering my demand to her.

“Hang up, Bebé,” I whisper, but the sound comes out more like a low throaty growl.

I’ve somehow lost myself in this woman, bewitched by her scent, intoxicated by having her close. She must have hung up. I don’t know and to be honest I don’t care. All I know is that one moment I’m nibbling along her neck, breathing her in like she was my oxygen that I had to have to survive, and the next moment she turns, and her lips find mine.

Our kiss takes me over. I ravage her mouth, tasting her, exploring and claiming her. Even as I acknowledge that’s what I’m doing, I want to stop—but I can’t. Maybe it’s because it’s been forever since I’ve been with a woman. Maybe I’m just fucking lonely. I don’t think that’s it, however. There’s something about this particular woman. She pulls away from me and I growl because that’s the last thing I want. I go back to recapture her lips with mine, but she brings her hands up, her fingers clench into my shoulders and I can feel her body tremble against me.

“Cyrus,” she moans, her voice throaty, vibrating with surprise, maybe a little fear, but a whole hell of a lot of need. I can hear it dripping off each syllable of my name.

“I want you,” I groan, bending down to take her mouth again.

“Cyrus, people are watching,” she argues, and I let out a frustrated breath. I look around us.

“There’s no one here, Bebé, but that damn Santa and his face is buried into the snow. Just like I want mine to be buried between your legs soon,” I growl, hungry as hell for her.

I can feel her stiffen, but my hand is cupping her breast and her nipple is hard and engorged, so much so that I can feel it pressing into my hand, straining for more.

“This is moving kind of fast, Cyrus,” she says, and I force myself to pull back. Carol is going to be mine. She’s going to warm my bed. She’s going to give me everything I want, and she will beg me for more. If she needs a day or so to get used to that? I can slow it down…

For a few hours.