Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Kitty
M y heart was pounding as I watched Sean leave. As he moved out toward the front door, my eyes lighted on the small box that had been sitting on the hall table since our breakup. My engagement ring. A sparkly solitaire diamond in a platinum band. It was perfect… for someone else. I didn’t want this ring. I had always wanted a traditional Irish Claddagh ring. One with two hands holding a heart topped with a crown, just like the one my grandfather had given my grandmother.
But Sean had dismissed the idea as too old-fashioned. Well, he could have his fancy modern diamond ring back.
“Here, Sean!” I shouted after him through the open door. He turned on the path, and just as he did, I threw the ring box at him with all my strength, hitting him square in the middle of the forehead.
“Ouch! I’ll get you for assault, you bitch!” he shouted.
I laughed, slamming the door and turning to put my back against it. My laughter turned to sobs, as the anger I had held onto for so long faded.
And there was Jon. He wrapped me in his arms, and I sobbed against his broad chest, clinging to him.
“Who was that?” he asked, his body tense as he held me.
“Nobody. Not anymore. Can't believe that I used to be with him.” I sniffed, running fingers over my eyes to swipe the tears away. I laughed, the sound brittle to my ears. I needed something for my hands to do. Anything. And the tree had been sitting there in the corner of the living room since the beginning of December, undressed. I pulled out of his arms and hobbled toward the box of decorations that still sat on the floor next to the tree.
“Enough about that wanker. He’s not worth it. Help me with this?” I held up a bauble to Jon, who took it in his huge hand and placed it high on the tree.
“Why do you decorate a tree?” he asked.
“You know, I have no idea,” I shrugged. “Tradition?”
I wondered what other things I did just because of tradition.
“We have religious holidays. Some of them have evolved into something else. Mostly they’re related to the Gnaggarrian seasons. We have a holiday at the peak of summer and the peak of winter. And then there are celebrations of the Elite’s birthdays, and other minor holidays.”
I smiled. Despite our differences, there were many experiences that we shared. I settled myself into one of the overstuffed armchairs beside the tree and leaned forward to drag the box closer. Jon walked toward me, and with more grace than a man his size should have, lowered himself to the floor to sit cross-legged on the floor near my feet .
“I'm sorry,” he said. The look on my face must have been one of surprise, because he continued. “I can’t be helping things.” He smiled sadly. “I didn't mean for this to happen. It was an accident…” He spread his hands wide.
“And here we are?”
“Something like that.”
“You know, it’s actually nice to have someone to share Christmas with this year. So don’t be sorry,” I said. We shared a smile. “When do you need to go back to the stone circle?”
“The transportal?” His smile dropped, his eyebrows drawing together as he thought. “There is a window where you can return during a test. It doesn’t work in a point-to-point transport, but in a test the portal opens to any available transportal station.” He drummed his fingers on his knee as he thought. “The window depends on the rotation of the planet. The return transport will occur in a little more than one full rotation.”
“One full rotation of Earth would make it one day, so that’s tonight,” I said, a little stunned that he would leave so soon. I stopped, a decoration in my hand, and stared at him.
That’s not enough time.
I flushed.
If he’s leaving tonight, what do you have to lose?
Nothing. I had nothing to lose. I was attracted to him like I’d never been to a man before, and going by the thickening of his cock—correction, cocks plural—he felt similarly. Maybe I should just ask him?
I was in the middle of an internal debate when he reached into the decoration box and pulled out what had to be the ugliest Christmas decoration I had ever seen in my life. It was also very familiar. A crocheted snowman I had made when I was probably five years old. Its head and body were the same size, so instead, it just looked like a pair of testicles. It had been an ongoing joke in our family, with me trying to get rid of them, but they always made it back into the Christmas decoration box. I felt my face heat as I leaned forward, swiping with my hand to grab them from Jon.
“Why do these look like?—”
“Give them here!” I stretched further forward with my fingers, trying to reach the offending ornament, but Jon pulled them further out of my grasp.
“They look like a male’s sack,” he said, his eyebrows knitting in concentration as he stared at the ornament. “What kind of strange religious ritual do you have that you worship testicles?”
“That’s not what it is,” I said as I made one last attempt to grab the decoration from his hands. I shifted a little further forward and toppled off the chair.
And directly on top of Jon.
He rolled backward under my weight, cushioning my fall to lie flat on his back on the carpet, one of his large hands on my waist and the other cupping one side of my arse. His fingers flexed, digging into my flesh, and I shivered. My legs slipped open, so I was straddling him. The very prominent bulge of his cocks pressed exactly where I needed them, and I felt them thickening as his big hand tugged me closer and his hips lifted to grind against me.
Well, he’s definitely interested.
I tilted my head up, my face merely inches away from his. The vertical pupils of his eyes pulsed with his heartbeat, going larger and smaller as his eyes traced my features. My breath came fast, my hands braced against his chest.
As if of their own accord, those traitorous fingers wandered, sliding up over the powerful muscles of his pectorals and shoulders to disappear into the mass of his hair. It was so smooth, so silky. I wondered what it would feel like draped all over me. There was so much of it, completely unlike how the men that I knew wore their hair and was much longer than my own.
One of his hands slid from my waist to the back of my neck, cupping my head in his firm grasp. The other kneaded the flesh of my backside and I rolled my hips against his straining erections, eliciting a groan from both of us.
I felt drawn to Jon, like this was inevitable. He had traveled across the galaxy at exactly the same time that I was walking across the stone circle. It was more than magnetic.
That was my last thought before his lips met mine.
The first touch was whisper light, the barest touch. And yet I burned.
What would it be like for him to make love to me?
And then I lost the ability to think as he deepened the kiss. Our mouths moved together, and I lost all sense of where he finished and where I began. Jon learned me. He teased me, tested me, gave, and took in equal measure, until I was panting.
When he eased our mouths apart, he smiled slow and wide. And I felt an answering pull of joy, as if my soul and his had spoken. Yes, he was leaving tonight. But we had this one day—Christmas day—and we would make the most of it together.