I love a quick study.
I lean back, hands on his thighs, and ride Grady. I ride him slow and hard and then pretty soon we’ve moving faster and faster and I’m trying very, very hard to be quiet but his cock feels good and his thumb on my clit feels good and he’s grabbing my ass and growling that he likes the way my tits bounce, and I come.
I come with a full-body shiver. My toes curl. My fingers curl. I bite my lip because I’m trying not to moan, but I moan anyway, and it feels like beautiful, beautiful relief.
Then Grady’s gasping and moaning too, and his hands tighten and he throws his head back again, cock jerking inside me. I lean down, drape myself over him, and his arms circle my back. I kiss him once, slowly, and he doesn’t let me go and kisses me again until I finally pull back, climb off, and collapse in a puddle next to him as we catch our breaths.
“You better call me after that,” I finally tease, and Grady just laughs.
“If you think you can get rid of me, think again,” he answers. “Not a chance.”
Chapter Ten
GRADY
We wake up still naked, because for some reason Adeline doesn’t put the nightgown on again. I look at her. She looks at me.
We both smile at the same time.
I consider saying Merry Christmas by having her sit on my face, because there are a lot of things I’d like to do to her that we’ve only scratched the surface of, but instead of orgasms there’s a knock on the door.
Well, it’s not a knock. It’s a frantic, frenzied pounding.
“Yeah?” I call.
“IT’S CHRISTMAS!” at least three children yell, and Adeline buries her head on my shoulder, laughing.
“Thank you!” I call back.
“HURRY UP!”
“Give us five minutes, okay?”
Adeline’s still laughing as they retreat.
“We should probably go before they storm the cabin,” she says, as I stroke her hair.
“Yeah, so much for my morning plans,” I tease.
She just raises one eyebrow.
“It’ll be a surprise for next time,” I tell her. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”
“Nothing.”
“Great. Come out with me. What about Friday?”
“Shouldn’t I say yes to one date at a time?” she says, laughing.
“I’m making up for four lost months,” I say.
Feet stomp onto the cabin’s porch again.
“That wasn’t five minutes!” I shout.
Even through the door, I can hear small, exasperated sighs.
“We should go before they explode,” Adeline says.
“After you say yes,” I tell her. “You know what? Three dates. New Year’s Eve, too.”
“All right, all right, yes,” she says, grabs my hand, and kisses it.
“Merry Christmas Adeline,” I tell her, and she smiles.
“Merry Christmas, Grady,” she says, and we kiss.
About the Author
I love writing sexy, rugged men and the headstrong women they fall for. My weaknesses include: beards, whiskey, nice abs with treasure trails, sarcasm, cats, prowess in the kitchen, prowess in the bedroom, forearm tattoos, and gummy bears. I live in California with my very own sexy, bearded, whiskey-loving husband and two hell-raising cats.
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Chapter One
CALLUM
Blasting Michael Bublé’s version of “Silent Night” as I sped down the street in an icy winter wonderland probably seemed incongruous, but I was in an exceptionally good mood.
Who wouldn’t be when classes at the community college were officially finished for the semester? Finals were done. Grades submitted. Endless infernal staff meetings in the bag.
I was finally free—for a month or so, give or take some faculty enrichment days.
I’d cracked the windows on my wholly-inappropriate-for-this-climate Toyota Supra sports car to let in the cool late afternoon breeze, and I’d put the heat on low to offset the chill. I was driving a little too fast for the fat flakes streaming down from the sky and accumulating in frosty slush along the side of the roadway. Playing my music a bit too loud for the quaint small town I was headed toward full bore.
Crescent Cove, was it? I’d never been here before. Oh, I’d heard of it, considering I lived fifty-plus miles away. But this place was postcard bucolic, a speck on the map, and I tended to like to hit the highways where I could go faster.
Thirty miles an hour was not fast. Nor was my risky thirty-six.
I didn’t even know why I’d driven this far out today. I was all too used to Central New York’s changeable weather. Snowstorms didn’t usually slow me down, but the sleet gray clouds warned we might be in for a prolonged event.
So much for enjoying my freedom in my sweet impractical beauty. I’d just do a U-turn and head back—
Suddenly, a truck backed out of a driveway, and I hit the brakes far too hard. My tires shrieked as I aimed right for the curb—and the ditch hidden by the thick layer of white layered on top of it.
My horn rang out as did my particularly colorful stream of curses. Wheels spun. My knee jabbed hard into something, and for a second, my vision wavered.
Had I hit my head? Or had the belt tightened just enough to send my ribcage upward into my skull?
Could’ve been either one.
Michael kept singing as I shut my eyes against the pain in my leg. I could probably walk it off. All in all, I’d gotten off easy. My poor baby though. I didn’t want to see the damage.
Actually, I didn’t want to deal with any of the crap that was now in my immediate future.
Next time? I’d circle my own block when I wanted to get my jollies in my almost-new car during the winter.
A sharp rap on my window had me opening my eyes and biting off a sigh. A guy wearing one of those hats with buffalo plaid flaps over his ears pressed his face up against the glass as I turned down the volume on the music and then lowered the window halfway. “You okay, fella? I didn’t see you there as I was coming out.”
I cocked a brow. Considering the non-neutral color of my car, I completely believed that. “I’m okay, thanks. You?”
I didn’t know why I asked that. He hadn’t driven off the road, I had. Because of him. And also because I’d recklessly been doing thirty-six.
This was why I so rarely colored outside the lines. It never ended well.
“Fine, fine. You got yourself some trouble here.” He edged back to look at my crumpled fender, nose down in the ditch. “Want me to call Dare at Kramer and Burns Custom? He’ll get you fixed right up in a jif.”
This far out, my towing company would charge me a mint to come to my assistance. “Sure. I can call him.” I tugged out my cell. “Kramer and Burns Custom, you said?”
“Have to turn down that loud music if you’re going to call.”
I ignored him as I searched Google and called. If he considered “Holly Jolly Christmas” set on low to be too loud, I couldn’t help him.