Chapter 6
Piers’s eyes light when he looks between my legs, but then he frowns. “There’s a cat on your panties.”
“It’s a pussy.” I give him a wide smile. He won’t want me forever, but he wants me now, and I’m going to enjoy it. “And you want to pet it, don’t you?” I rock my hips, letting the Houdzou slide up further.
“Do not get fresh with me.”
“You like it when I get fresh… Sir.”
His breath gusts out of him. Oh, he likes being called Sir.
“You like it when I’m naughty.”
“I do, dirty girl. I do.” He takes both ankles and pulls me down the bed. I let him, stretching my arms above my head. He pulls me flush against him, leaning in to kiss me. “I’m going to work you so hard,” he murmurs against my mouth.
“Are you going to dress me down?”
“Mmm, yes.”
“What if I get cold?”
“I’ll keep you warm. I’ll crank up the thermostat permanently, if it means you’ll never wear that thing again.”
I’m already wriggling out of my Houdzou, letting him whip it off of me.
“That’s better. Arms over your head, let me see you.”
I reach for the headboard, enjoying the way he gazes at my bare breasts. “Yes, milord.”
“Cheeky peasant.”
I arch my back, feeling so very wet.
Any minute now he’s going to rip off my panties and plunge inside me. I can’t wait.
But he’s taking his sweet time. He lays on top of me, still in his pajama pants. I lift my hips, trying to rub against his groin. He kisses me again, and I groan into his mouth.
“Shh, let me enjoy this.” His hands are everywhere, caressing my bare skin. I feel so beautiful, so cherished. All his intensity focused on me. It’s the most addictive thing in the world, being the object of his desire.
Even if it won’t last.
“I need you wet,” he says. He crawls down my body and props my legs on his shoulders.
“I am wet.” I’m panting at the sight of him like this.
He presses a kiss to my calf. “Not enough for me. For this.” He nods to the bulge in his pants. I slide a foot down and press it against his length.
Fuck, there’s a lot of him.
“Bad girl,” he mutters as I stroke the arch of my foot over him. “Incurably naughty.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
The next thing I know, he’s flipped me to my belly and smacked my ass. “This.” He hooks his fingers into the sides of my panties and rips them in two.
“Hey,” I cry, craning my neck to look back at him. “Those are my panties.”
He lifts them to his face and inhales my scent before tossing them away. “You won’t be needing panties anymore.”
I’m about to argue—I wear those every Christmas—but he props me up on my knees and thrusts two fingers into my sopping wet pussy.
“Oh god,” I moan and get a mouthful of down pillow.
Another smack on my ass. “That’s not what you call me.”
I’m face down, my upper torso pressed to the bed while he finger fucks the shit out of me. I clench on his fingers, my climax building in my lower belly.
He stops when I’m close and smacks my ass again. Like I’m one of his prized cattle. “What do you call me?”
“You’re a pain in my ass. Ow!”
He bit me!
“I’m going to be a pain in your ass. Would you like that?” He parts my ass cheeks and licks between them.
I can’t answer. I’m vibrating, arching my back to push myself onto his tongue, drooling in the sheets.
“You don’t have to tell me. You’re dripping into my hand.”
Tongue in my ass, fingers in my pussy. He teases me like that until I’m a naked bunch of nerves, endlessly tingling.
“That’s it, dirty girl. Get nice and wet for me so I can fill you with my cock.” He scrapes his teeth over my freshly spanked ass, drawing new shudders from me.
“You’re so mean.”
“You love it.” He stops to put on a condom. The black and gold wrapper flutters to the floor, and then he’s teasing me with the head of his dick, swirling it around in my wetness. “I’m a lot to take,” he warns me.
Even with my face pressed into the pillow, I smile. “I know. But I can take you.”
“You’re the only one who can.” And then he’s pressing inside, filling me, and I can’t think. There’s no room for thoughts, or worries, or witty comebacks. There’s only Piers.
“Oh my darling,” he sighs as he strokes his hands down my back, my sides. Soothing me like a skiddish horse. He lets me wriggle and get used to his girth, my inner muscles kissing along his cock as I adjust to him.
But once he’s wedged inside me, he can’t help getting mean again.
“There’s a good girl.” He grabs my wild hair and uses it like reins to pull my head back.
Once my spine is bowed back, he slides all the way in.
The air leaves my lungs. My fingers flex, looking for purchase on the mattress.
“Easy.” He gives a few experimental thrusts, and I panic.
He’s rearranging my guts but in a good way.
This is going to ruin me for sex with anyone else, I can just tell.
“Take. It. All.” He punches his hips into me, pulling my hair, and the sting is so delicious I come hard.
I give in and go limp, letting him ride me, then flip me over and pull me onto his lap so I can ride him. He grips my hips and guides them into a rocking motion. “That’s it, beautiful. Ride me.”
It’s hard to breathe with his cock splitting me.
With his incredible body stretched out below me, muscles rippling under my palms. But the way he’s looking at me, I feel sexy and desired.
He digs his fingers into my love handles like he’s afraid I’ll get away.
I cup my breasts and stroke my nipples, giving him a show, and he looks like he’s witnessing a miracle.
And when his gaze goes hazy, and he takes over, pounding into me from below until he cums? He’s the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen.
My happiness is bittersweet. This was the best sex of my life. None of my fantasies can compare, which is too bad, because they’ll be all I’ll have when this is over.
In the middle of the night, my eyes pop open. Piers is asleep next to me, and we’re in his bed because after sexy times in my bedroom, the entire bed was a wet spot.
I’m wide awake. My body is sore but in a good way.
The moon is shining through the windows. The sky is finally clear. But we’re still snowed in, in our own little world.
I wish I could stay here, snuggled up with Piers, and enjoy the moment.
But I can’t help feeling I’m on the precipice of something huge. One wrong step, and I’ll lose everything.
Maybe I already have. Because what happens when the holiday ends? When Piers goes back to work, and I leave him, forever.
I don’t want to think about it, but I have to. I pull away, easing carefully out of the bed. Piers’ mouth twitches, but he remains still. He’s on his stomach, his beautiful face turned toward me. Those long lashes leave shadows on his cheeks.
He must be exhausted after driving himself all week. All year. He needs to sleep. He looks so peaceful, though, I don’t want to stop staring at him.
Who am I kidding? It doesn’t matter where I go. How far I run. I’m never getting over Piers.
But I need to move. I get dressed and creep downstairs. Piers and I burned off all the calories from the Nantucket pie, so it’s time for lasagna. I heat it up in the microwave and eat it straight out of the pan.
After food, I find myself back in front of the picture windows. The colorful glow of the lights on the fir tree bathes my face.
It’s after midnight and officially December twenty-fifth.
If I were home, I’d be clicking through TV channels, catching snatches of old holiday movies.
I’d stay up late, hoping to sleep in the next day, knowing my only Christmas plans would be a trek to Rockefeller Center.
Kinda pathetic, but I guess I’ve clung to the tradition because it made me feel close to my mom.
I don’t know how long I stand there, wrapped in the quiet. I’m warm in my Houdzou and Christmas socks, and those quiet moments where the world is only lit by the lights on the tree have always been my favorite.
I stay long enough that I’m not surprised when I hear the creak of footsteps on the stairs. Piers must have woken and come looking for me.
I don’t turn. I let him prowl to me to stand at my back. He comes close but doesn’t touch me. I can feel him wanting to hold me but holding himself back.
“What are you thinking of?” he murmurs.
“It’s Christmas.”
“Do you wish you were home?”
“No.” As I say it, I realize it’s true.
His arms come around me. He kisses my hair and rests his chin on my head.
I relax back against him. Being in his arms feels right. “Why this Christmas? Why not any others in the past five years?”
“We met just after Christmas. You looked so young and nervous, but you were fierce. You proved yourself to me within thirty seconds.”
I smile in the darkness. “You hired me on the spot. Dragged me into your next meeting.”
“You made yourself indispensable. I couldn’t let you go after that.”
“On my first work anniversary, you took me to lunch at Rockefeller. Gave me the watch.” I touch my wrist, which feels naked without the Rolex.
“I wanted to give you more.” He nuzzles my ear. “I had learned your mom passed away just before we met. That the holiday was important to you.”
“But you didn’t let me have the holiday this year. Even though you were doing the work with Sandra. I thought you were becoming a kinder, gentler Dread Lord and then… you trapped me here.”
He presses his face to my hair. “I’m the worst,” he says. He adds something else, but his voice is muffled.
“What?”
“I said, because of Rinaldo.”
“Rinaldo?” It takes me a moment to place the name. “Captain of the Thrusters?”
“He asked you out to the New Year’s party.”
“How did you know?”
“I overheard you and Sloan.”
I’m confused. Why are we talking about Rinaldo? Then I feel how tense Piers is. “Wait, are you jealous?”
No answer.
“That’s why you turned mean on Tuesday and then dragged me up here.” It’s all making sense.
“I’m an ogre.”
“It’s okay,” I sigh.
“It’s not. You deserve so much better than me.” His head is bowed against mine, his breath on the back of my neck.
“No one’s irredeemable, Piers. Not even you.
But you could’ve just told me you wanted to spend the holidays with me.
You could’ve just said, “Dammit, Wellesley, my feelings will not be repressed. I want you. I’ve tried to resist but can no longer.
” My Mr. Darcy accent isn’t working, so I switch to Eliza Doolittle.
“Can you Adam and Eve it? Trouble and strife, guv’nor.
” I add some Cockney rhyming slang for good measure.
“I could not say that, actually. Because that is gibberish.”
“Well, you could’ve said something.”
“I couldn’t, though.”
“Why not?”
His sigh shakes my whole body. “Because I’m the worst. I kept imagining you alone, missing your mom, and I couldn’t bear it. But that’s not all. I thought that on New Year’s, you were going to be with him. I thought this was my chance. My last chance to win you.”
He wants to win me?
He grips me hard, rubbing my belly, nestling me deeper in his arms like he’s afraid I’ll turn to mist and slip away. “And I fucked it up. I was selfish.” His voice is raw with regret. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not enough to apologize for the past five years, but I do regret my behavior.”
A genuine apology? From the Dread Lord? I can’t breathe.
“I wish I were a better man. For you. But I’m not. I am the Dread Lord.”
“The Dread Lord isn’t that bad.”
“Oh, but he is. He was raised to be cruel and cut down anyone weaker than him. But then he hired this amazing woman to be his assistant. She’s brilliant and beautiful, the only person who can make him laugh.
She gets him. And she works hard, harder than anyone else, and soon she’s the only thing he looks forward to when he wakes each day.
” His arms tighten around me, not letting me get away.
I’m glad he can’t see my face because my mouth is hanging open.
“But he’s an ogre and doesn’t know how to talk about his feelings. He doesn’t understand what feelings are. His father told him therapy was for the weak.
“So he drowns himself in work and more work, making money until his pile is bigger than anyone else’s. But it doesn’t make him happy, nothing does. Except for her. But he doesn’t know how to talk to her, so he bullies her mercilessly.
“He wishes he could let her go, but he can’t. He’s not good enough. But he hates himself for what he puts her through. And every time he sees her, he wants to take care of her. Because I do, Wellesley. I want to take care of you. I want to give you everything.”
“I didn’t know.”
“I didn’t know myself. But I’m trying to be better, Wellesley, for you. That’s what Marty said, practically in his last breath. ‘Hang on to her. Don’t let her go.’”
“Oh.” My heartbeat booms in my ears.
“He told me to marry you. Do whatever it takes, he said. Don’t let her get away.”
My mind goes blank. Me and Piers, married? It does not compute.
“I’ve cared for you. I’ve always cared for you, I just didn’t know it.”
I frown, wanting to shrink back. This isn’t making sense. I can’t believe he actually wanted to be… with me. “You really want me. You want to be with me.”
“Yes. Is that so hard to believe?”
“Honestly? Yes.” I can’t imagine us together.
I mean, I can because I fantasize about it all the time.
But in reality? He’s a billionaire, and I’m his assistant.
Sure, Marty always said it was like I could read Pier’s mind.
Sloan thinks I’m the only one who can put up with him.
But being together is different. “I already told you I’m not cut out to be a trophy wife. ”
“You wouldn’t be a trophy.” He squeezes my arms. “You’d be mine.”
“I fantasize about you, all the time,” I blurt. “All sorts of fantasies. But I never thought—” I pry his hands open so I can turn and face him. “I never thought you felt anything for me.”
“Darling.” He captures my hand, brings it to his mouth. Kisses it.
I touch his face. He feels real. But I don’t know if this is real. And if it is, where do we go from here?
“Wellesley, please. You make me better. I want to be better. I’ll call into town and make sure you’re back in the city by tomorrow. Just please tell me I haven’t fucked this up. Please tell me I haven’t lost you.”
I rest my cheek against his chest. I can’t speak, but I can let him hold me. It’s not an answer, but it’s enough for now.
For tomorrow, though? I need a Christmas miracle.
Dear Santa…
I gaze out at the tree and make my wish.