Page 76 of Santa Baby

I had never heard his voice quite this low and gravelly before. It was like he’d been waiting for this, pining for me, and I loved the idea of him walking around that ballroom, drinking me in as I worked, oblivious to the dirty thoughts pinging through his head.

“I need you,” he rasped. “Right now.”

I turned toward the partition on the far side of the limo from where I was still straddling his lap. “What about Rex?”

“He won’t know,” Mason panted, kissing the corner of my mouth. He closed his eyes, his lips parted as I ground my hips against his. He hissed out a breath, arching. “Fia⁠—”

Any inhibitions I might have had about this slipped when I noticed the look on his face. He was obsessed. Absolutely, utterly taken with me. I’d never felt so wanted in my life. I reached between us. My fingers slipped over his belt. I almost had it undone when he gently grabbed my wrist.

“I don’t have a condom,” he ground out, opening his eyes.

“I might have one in my bathroom,” I whispered, the words slipping out. I hoped I was right.

He huffed a single, silent laugh, but the heat building between us remained. The limo rolled to a stop. “This is us.”

In a daze, he helped me adjust my dress and took my hand to lead me out of the limo. We walked in silence to my apartment door, but the tension crackled like fireworks while my trembling hands fumbled with my key. He stopped me and unlocked the door with steady hands. Then he ushered me into the darkness, the only light that of the oversized Christmas tree taking up an entire corner of my studio.

The door hadn’t even closed all the way when his mouth was on mine again, hot and open, his tongue sliding over mine as he groaned and pinned me against the wall. “Where is it?”

“The cabinet,” I rushed out.

He moved away from me, the distance between us unbearable as he walked the two steps into my bathroom. He returned within seconds, his hands finding me again in a tight embrace. His kiss knocked the wind out of me. Something crashed to the floor as he swept his hand across my tiny dining-room table and lifted me onto it.

“Wrap your legs around my waist,” he commanded gruffly.

I obeyed, whimpering as he fumbled with his belt, missing his hot touch on my body. I watched him tear open the condom wrapper with his teeth and carelessly discard it, his expression hyper-focused on my breasts, which heaved with every rushed breath I took.

Then his eyes met mine in the glow of the Christmas lights. “You have no idea what you’ve done to me,” he whispered.

My lips parted and he leaned forward to kiss me, tenderly at first and then with a lot more passion. He took my lower lip between his teeth as he reached between my legs, not even bothering to take my dress off. This was hot, this overwhelming desire for me. He slid my panties to the side and entered me with a needy, breathless groan that burrowed into every muscle in my body, igniting a fire I didn’t want to put out.

32

MASON

Fia panted beneath me as I moved within her slowly, savoring the feel of her. I’d pulled the bodice of her dress down enough to free her breasts and I was undone. Completely, utterly unwoven to the core of my being. I’d been thinking about this all night. From the moment I walked into that ballroom and I saw her wearing that sparkly red gown with a slit nearly up to her hipbone, her curves on display.

Nothing was better than this. Being with her. Buried inside her. The table creaked in rhythm with my thrusts. I had one hand on her waist and the other gripping one of the steps on the staircase to the loft, directly above my head. We were still dressed. I hadn’t had the time or desire to strip her of her dress. I needed her right then.

Her legs locked around my waist, trembling, as she arched off the table with a muffled moan. I wanted her screaming my name, but we weren’t in my apartment in midtown. She had neighbors close by and windows overlooking the street.

“You’re so close,” I rasped, closing my eyes as she tightened around me. “Fia, you’re perfect.”

She came, hard, incoherent words tumbling out of her beautiful mouth as her body shook and she gripped the table for support. I wasn’t far behind her. I pulled her up, clutching her to my chest, and took her mouth in mine the moment I unraveled, groaning her name against her lips.

Our untangling was a blur of expensive fabric and wobbly legs. I picked her up and carried her to the couch, where I continued to kiss her, unable to get enough, that itch not quite scratched.

At some point we fell asleep—Fia lying on the couch in nothing but her underwear and a fluffy blanket tangled around her body, and me, on the floor, in my slacks, using her discarded designer gown as a pillow.

I sat up, wincing as my back popped. She groaned, rubbing her eyes, her wild curls catching the sunlight peeking through the windows. She blinked down at me, her shoulders slumping. I sucked in a breath and leveled her with a look.

“You need a bigger apartment,” I said, resting my arm on the couch.

She rolled her eyes to the ceiling but surrendered with a shrug. “Is that what you’re getting me for Christmas?”

“That depends,” I breathed, tired but suddenly hyper-aware of her blanket sliding down her chest to reveal the tops of her soft, perfect breasts. I climbed onto the couch, pinning her down. “Have you been a good girl this year, Fia?”

“No,” she replied with a mischievous grin.