16. Ginger
16
GINGER
C hristmas morning is a blast. Gracie opens her pile of presents, which is only slightly bigger than the pile she got last night at her grandparents’ house.
I’m lounging on my couch as Gracie tries out her new pastel set on the dining room table. Her art closet is going to be overflowing once we try to pack everything away at the end of Christmas break. Until then, though, my daughter has free rein to spread out in the living room and kitchen table. At least until it’s time to sit down and eat like a proper family.
My phone pings, and I smile when I see Jackon’s name pop up. He’s been texting me over the last few days since the office is closed until the twenty-seventh.
How was the present frenzy? Gracie make out like a bandit?
I laugh, and Gracie glances at me over her shoulder with a knowing look. I blow her a kiss before responding.
She did. TONS of art supplies. How about Emily?
I barely have to wait for a response. I rarely do. Not that I expect him to be waiting by his phone for me.
She’s learning to ride this year, so lots of expensive horse-related paraphernalia.
How do you make that sound so much like a drug deal is about to go down?
He responds with a laughing face emoji, and I grin back at my screen. Most of our texts are playful, flirty, much like how we talk to each other in the office but with a dirty tilt. I can practically feel how much he wants me when we chat like this.
It’s so different from how his brother communicates with me. I got a Merry Christmas via text from him, but nothing else. He has let me catch him a few times in a corner of the house to steal a kiss, but there are so many men milling around the job site that it’s hard to sneak around.
Ashley, however,...I grunt at the thought of him. All of our playfulness has disappeared, and I’ve been avoiding him. Although he has texted me a few times.
The fury just comes crashing back every time I see him, every time I think about how rude he’s been to me.
Because you know how expensive it is to ride.
I guess that all depends on what you’re riding. My rides have always been free.
He sends me back an overheated emoji, and I know the reference to our rendezvous in his truck hit home.
What are your plans tonight?
Hmm, in reality, I don’t have much in the way of plans other than sitting on the couch and watching movies with Gracie.
When I look up to check on her, debating my answer, she’s tapping away on her phone.
I’m not sure yet, is what I send him back. Even with Gracie likely going to be early tonight since she was up so early, I can’t leave her here by herself. I can’t call my mom down to watch her without explaining why, and I’m not doing that. And I can’t have him over here without a good reason for him being here.
“Hey, Momma?”
My brow quirks up. She only calls me Momma when she wants something she thinks I might say no to. “Graciella?”
Her lip pushes out when I use her full name, but when she sees the smile I’m trying to bite back, she relaxes. “Can I go watch The Christmas Carol with Grandma tonight?”
I blink a few times at the perfect opportunity presenting itself and pretend to think about it. With a resigned sigh—a put on, of course—I nod. “I suppose I can deal with a peaceful evening to myself.”
“You could come watch it.” Her smile is sweet as pie because she knows I’ve seen that movie more times than I can count, and it’s not my favorite. It is Mom’s, though. At least I have someone who will suffer through it on my behalf.
“That’s not going to happen. Even though I love you both. No.”
Gracie’s giggle is bright and warm. “We love you, too.”
And she’s lost in her phone again, probably texting my mom back.
Want to come over for a midnight snack? The heat that washes over me at Jackson’s suggestion has me squirming upright.
“She’ll be here in an hour to drive me up to their house,” Gracie says.
“Fine. Abandon me,” I say dramatically. We laugh together, and I yank her into my arms for a little snuggle. She tries to wiggle free, but I squeeze her harder. “I need to get my fill before you leave me.”
“ Mom .”
I plant a few more kisses on the top of her head before I release her. “Fine. Go get ready.”
She does, and I text Jackson back.
Pick me up in an hour.
The transition is easy. Mom comes to grab Gracie. I get in a quick shower but don’t wash my hair. I also don’t bother with any makeup, putting on a long sweater dress and some leg warmers my mom got me for Christmas two years back.
I don’t even wait for Jackson to get out of the car and knock. I just step outside and lock my door as he comes to a stop in my driveway. He grins at me as I slip into the passenger seat.
“Hey.”
“Hi.” I slide closer across the bench seat, and his arm comes around me. Even in the darkness past dusk, he looks incredible in the headlights’ reflection. “Drive.”
I press my mouth against his jaw and am rewarded with a soft groan. I bet he’s already growing hard in those jeans. He wears them well. Almost as well as his dress pants. Or maybe I’ve just had more experience with him pressing those slacks against me lately.
He gets us moving, and it doesn’t take long to get to his house. It’s just down the street, which around here is about a five-minute drive. I try not to tease him too badly on the way, but my hand kneads just above his knee.
The way his hand squeezes my shoulder screams that I’m delivering a slow and steady torture.
He grunts when I try to slide away. By now, he’s parked the car, and he drags me out of his door. I wrap my legs around him, and he doesn’t hesitate, carrying me through his unlocked front door. He sets me down between the couch and the coffee table.
“I actually put out something for you.”
I look over the treats, reaching down for a square of cheese and a glass of wine. Once I’ve swallowed a bite and taken a sip, I give up on the pretenses, pushing him back into his couch and sliding into his lap.
“Why don’t we build up an appetite first?” I say, running my hand through his golden hair. It’s brighter due to the light from the small fire warming my back. I got a glimpse of it, but I’ll have to explore the room later. It’s hard to see anything other than him when we’re this close.
Our mouths collide, and our bodies roll together out of instinct, seeking the pleasure we both crave.
But his warm hands settle me into something slower. I soak in the feel of him—the fact that we don’t have to rush and sneak around. Even if we still kind of are.
Only I get to appreciate the way his hair is soft in my grip, how his stubble pricks against my skin, how his jeans are rough against the bare insides of my thighs.
I pull back to look at him. He’s got a golden boy kind of good looks. Warm, charming, sweet. Honey heated in the sun. Brushing his full lips with my thumb, I’m surprised by how territorial I feel.
I don’t want him to do this with anyone else. I pour that into the kiss I lay on him. Every soft touch cranks up the tension between us until my hands are full of his shirt, and I need him inside of me as soon as possible.
He must sense the change because his hands slide under the hem of my dress and to my bare hips. “ Fuck .”
Laughing, I lift enough to work his fly open. “We can keep it slow. I just need…”
Jackson rubs me over my panties, and my words transform into a moan.
“More.” The word scrapes out, and I reach for him again, wrapping my hand around his hard length and stroking him a few times.
His mouth finds my throat, and I melt over him with another soft plea.
Take me .
The room spins, and Jackson has me on my back. Soft, plush leather supports me, and Jackson’s heavy, solid weight pushes me into the cushions.
I wrap my legs around his waist, and his hands slide up my thighs like a dream. My panties are skimming down my thighs, off my ankles, and are tossed somewhere unknown. I struggle with his jeans, wanting them off of him, to feel more of him than I got last time.
His cock is nestled against me, and I get smooth, hard pressure when I lift my hips to rub us together. But I can’t take him inside of me like this. My nails dig into his lower back with a whine.
“Jackson.” I’m burning for him. “Please.”
He pauses to look down at me, to brush the loose hair from my face and plant a soft kiss on my mouth before his hips roll and he glides slowly inside me.
I moan against his mouth and taste his tongue. We fit together everywhere.
Grabbing the back of his shirt, I enjoy how full he makes me feel, but I wish I had access to all of his skin. My nails dig in, and my hips lift against his.
The way he swivels against me has me bearing down, ready for the peaks of pleasure.
I tug again on his shirt.
Jackson rears up, grabbing his shirt and yanking it over his head. I stop him before he crashes back over me, running my hands over his bare shoulders and chest, teasing the soft hair there before caressing my fingers down his abs. He is finely tuned. Beautiful.
I really like the way his body looks between my knees and the taper of his hips down to where he’s nestled in my core.
I involuntarily squeeze around him. Jackson grunts and thrusts with a bit of force.
“God, that’s so hot.” Watching him move, watching him stretch me open, fill me, has me writhing with need.
“Yeah, you are.” His big hands encase my hips, and I want them everywhere.
Jackson tastes every inch of me, and it’s so sensual that I’m nearly bursting already.
It’s so rare that a man treats me so tenderly during sex. It’s usually frantic thrusting, grabbing, rushing to the end. But when his body fully meets mine, I feel so cherished and taken care of. Pleasure soars when he sucks a nipple into his mouth.
My back arches with it, and the steady rhythm of his hips has me grappling for stable ground.
But it’s his hot breath in my ear that does me in. “There’s my sweet girl. Come for me. Let go. I’ve got you.”
I struggle to give in, scratching down his back as he finds the spot that detonates me. Every muscle seizes, and I ride out the waves, coming back to Jackson planting kisses across my shoulder, up my throat.
His hair is slick when I run my fingers through it, and he grins at me. Jackson pulses inside of me, but he’s still so, so hard.
His movements slow but steady, Jackson cares for my body, pushing me past my sensitivity and into a new level of pleasure. I memorize the way his muscles move under my palms.
I want this to be my new normal: time with Jackson. Alone. Being taken care of. Teasing pleasure. Everything I should avoid with him.
Because he’s my boss.
But this feels so right. I don’t think I can give it up.