Clara
H e’s thinking the worst again. And I can’t blame him, really. Jeez, why can’t I say what I want? Why can’t I be brave and say the words out loud?
Because now Jack’s looking like he hates himself again, and it’s my fault. Me and my stupid shrugs.
“Don’t go,” I beg. His mouth flattens in a line, but he stays put.
Okay. Okay, I can do this.
“I did want something when I came downstairs.” His arm is warm and hard beneath his sleeve. Bulging with muscle. I shift on the sofa, mouth dry. “I wanted… I wanted…”
Jack pats my knee, but there’s nothing hungry in it. “It’s okay, . We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“No, wait—” I yank on his sleeve, rougher than I should, but he was going to get up again. And this feels important. Like it might be my only chance to say this, to get it right.
Jack settles back against the sofa. He turns to me, mouth down-turned and eyes tight, but even now he can’t hide the longing there.
He wants me. And I want him too.
I will be brave.
“I came down because I didn’t want to be apart from you. And because…” I wet my lips, picking my words carefully. “Because I was lying in bed wanting you. Wanting all of you.”
Jack hums, and the sound is rough. He’s warming over again, coming back to me, little by little. He knots his fingers together, resting his elbows on his knees.
“There are different ways to take that, . Can you tell me a bit more?”
Oh, god. My face burns brighter, but I rally and push on. His sweater is soft in my clammy grip.
“I want…” My eyes drop to his fly, unbidden. Jack grunts, but doesn’t move an inch. “I want you to—to take my… to make me…”
Jeez. There’s really no good way to say this, is there?
“You want me to fuck you, ?”
I snort and nod. I guess that’ll do it. And Jack smiles at me, rueful, before shrugging his big shoulders.
“I’m not a poet, baby. But the way I feel about you—that’s poetic, alright.”
He turns to face me, but I keep squeezing his sweater. “It’s my first time,” I blurt out. “And I only want to do this if—if you love me. If it’s more than one night.”
His forehead wrinkles. “Of course I love you. Don’t you know that already?”
But I don’t mean love as in the way he’d love a good friend and longtime employee. I mean love as in…
“,” Jack says quietly. “I thought you already knew. I’d marry you tomorrow if you let me.”
Huh.
Huh.
“I think the churches will be busy,” I mumble, head spinning and chest bright. Because no, I didn’t know that, but now that I do…
I swing one leg over Jack’s lap. He leans back, surprised, but then his big hands clamp down on my hips and drag me closer.
“We doing this, baby?” His piercing blue eyes stare at me, awed, and I wind my arms around his neck, heart thumping.
“Yeah.” I shift closer. Roll my hips. Bite my lip at the hard length I find pressed against his fly. “But you might have to show me how.”
* * *
I’ve thought a million times what sex might be like. And specifically, sex with Jack. Because when you’ve got the hottest man alive as your boss, why would you picture it with anyone else?
I figured he’d be hungry for me. I’ve caught him staring enough times to be sure of that. And I figured he’d be tender, because he’s Jack , and Jack is good and kind and wonderful.
I’m half right. He’s both those things, but he’s so much more, too. Jack cradles me in his lap like I’m the world’s greatest treasure—then shoves my sweater and pajama top up and sucks my nipple hard enough to bruise.
He kisses me hard. Slides his tongue into my mouth, biting, claiming.
And all the while his hands roam over my sides, so gentle.
Rough and tender. Soft and urgent. I’m tossed around in a storm of my boss’s conflicting emotions for me, and it’s so perfect. Almost overwhelming. Every touch makes me sigh; every nip heats my blood.
He loves me.
I can’t believe it. Since when did a runaway ever get so lucky?
“What are you thinking so hard about?” Jack grinds out as he urges me to stand, tugging my pajama pants down my legs.
I kick them off and climb back onto his lap. “You.”
The clink of Jack’s belt buckle is loud in his office. The dawn’s coming faster now, washing the room pale blue, and he secures the blanket tighter around my shoulders.
Ha. As if I could feel cold right now. I’ve got Jack’s warm hands squeezing my waist and trailing down my stomach; I’ve got this freaking Santa hat, slumping to one side on my head.
Jack notches the head of his cock to my entrance. “We’ll go slow, okay? Nice and easy. And if you want to stop, you say.”
Not likely. I’m already rocking my hips instinctively, trying to urge him inside. I’ve got that ticklish feeling down there again, and it only gets worse when Jack starts rubbing at my clit, leaning forward to kiss my neck, his beard soft against my skin.
“Sit down on it, baby.”
I sink down an inch. “ Oh. Oh my god.”
“Take your time.”
Yeah, no kidding. I’ve only let in the head of his cock, and already I’m stretching around him. There’s a faint burn, but it’s not unpleasant. It doesn’t hurt, exactly, and when he keeps rubbing my clit…
I bite my lip and sink down deeper.
So this is what it feels like to have someone inside you. Someone hard and throbbing. I wiggle my hips, and I’m rewarded with another inch. On and on we go, Jack kissing my neck, my earlobe, my bottom lip, his thumb rubbing steadily at my clit.
And I sink down deeper and deeper, until he’s wedged huge and hot inside me, all the way down until my ass rests against his thighs.
“You’re there. You’ve done it.” Jack cups my face and kisses me breathless. “So fucking perfect, .”
It’s not like Jack is stingy with praise on a normal day, but hearing that while his cock twitches inside me? Heat floods through my veins, and I whimper, rolling my hips.
Yes.
This is—this must be what all the fuss is about. This sensation right here, the huge length of him, so unyielding, sliding in and out of my pussy, dragging over every part of me. My toes curl in the frosty air. My pulse leaps.
“That’s it. Fuck.” Jack grips my hips again, urging me to roll harder. Take him deeper. Every time his cock rubs against a spot inside me, my eyes practically cross. I cling to his neck, our foreheads pressed together, and our ragged breaths fill the quiet office.
The sofa creaks.
The blanket slips off my shoulders.
“Jesus Christ ,” Jack grits out, and the crack of his palm against my bare ass tears a moan from my throat. We’re rocking urgently, the slick sounds of our bodies joining echoing around the room.
It’s messy. It’s primal.
It’s perfect.
This time, when I come, it feels different from earlier. The orgasm Jack gave me with his mouth was sharper, more concentrated.
This time, it’s like watching a storm rolling towards us over the hills. Building slowly, coming closer, the rains pounding the grass and my lips part, my sighs lost in the wind. It fills me slower, but the pleasure is deeper, somehow, and it spreads to every nook and cranny of my body. Warms me down to the marrow of my bones.
I tip my head back, hips moving in his lap.
Jack’s teeth scrape over my throat, and I fall.
“ Jack .”
“I’m here.”
I cling to his shoulders, body jerking, breath held. And when I finally come back to myself, when I start to move again, dazed and blinking, Jack thrusts his cock deep inside me and fills me with wet heat.
I stay in his lap for a long time. Keep him inside me, even once he’s softened. I don’t want us to be apart, not yet. And when I finally peel myself off him, sticky and aching, Jack follows me up, tugging on my Santa hat pom pom.
“Come on. I bet we can both fit in the shower.”
I scoff. The cubicle is tiny; there’s no way. But if Jack wants to try, there’s no way I’ll tell him no.
Besides. I still haven’t seen him properly with his clothes off. I’ve wanted to for years. And inquiring minds need to know.
“What do you have planned for Christmas?” I trail behind him out of the office, stealing a glance at my tree with the small pile of gifts. “Are you playing Santa for anyone else?”
Jack scoffs. “‘Course not.” He pushes the bathroom door open. “No one else has been good.”
I hide my smile, stepping under his arm onto the tiles.
I know it’s wrong to be jealous, but I’m glad. This Santa is mine.