Unwrapped (3 page)

16

Unwrapped

He—and his dick—couldn’t help being flattered, but… “Sorry, Dana—afraid that’s just not our scene.”

No
,
our scene is to do it in the dark
,
in the missionary position
,
once every couple of weeks
or so
.

He couldn’t help thinking Dana would be
really
disappointed if she knew
that
.

“Well then,” she said, “I guess I’ll go see if you’re right about Cal.”

Ah
,
way to be a trouper
,
honey
. “Don’t worry, I am.”

An hour later, Cal and the two girls had departed, and Emily and Simon had chatted with most of his coworkers. Music still played and alcohol still flowed. Emily always charmed anyone she came into contact with and this gathering was no exception.

Unfortunately for Simon, though, just watching his sugarplum charm people was enough to keep him aroused. Good thing he had his suit jacket on and buttoned, or everyone would know he wanted to take her, right in the middle of the red and gold lobby and expensive snacks. He wanted to start by kissing that long, slender neck. Then he wanted to lean into her from behind, let her feel his cock pressing into her ass as he reached around to cup her soft breasts. He wanted to push up that sexy little dress and drive his erection deep into her sweet, hot cunt.

Which was almost always wet for him. That’s what stumped him. She was always wet, always ready—even when she was shying away from anything beyond that damn missionary position. If she was so disinterested in sex, why was she always so nice and moist when he reached inside her panties?

He looked at her now as she spoke with Mark Wagner’s wife, who apparently wanted to donate some money to help the homeless and had asked Emily for advice on the best route to take. Finishing another scotch and Coke, he asked Emily if she’d like another glass of wine. She looked up, drawn from her conversation. “Oh—yes, Simon, thanks.”

17

Lacey Alexander

So off to the bar he went, thinking to drown his sorrows.
If I were a worse sort of guy
,

I could be sandwiched between two naughty girls right now
. A jazz version of “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” played overhead, reminding him ‘twas the season to be deemed naughty or nice. Just his luck to fall for the nice girl.

On the way back from the bar, he realized Emily was nowhere in sight. “Where’d she go?” he asked Carolyn Wagner.

Mark’s wife pointed. “That way—looking for the restroom. Only, after she’d gone, I realized it’s—”

“In the other direction,” Simon finished for her with an easy grin. “Don’t worry, I’ll track her down. Watch these for me?”

“Sure,” she said as he lowered their drinks to the table where she sat.

Pushing through the door that led to the firm’s offices, he spotted Emily walking toward him, looking pretty—and a bit tipsy from wine consumption. “There are no bathrooms back here,” she said, motioning vaguely over her shoulder as a short giggle escaped her.

He couldn’t help smiling. “No, sugarplum. But look what’s right
here
.”

He moved forward to meet her next to Dana’s office doorway, where a sprig of greenery and white berries hung. Emily glanced up. “Is that mistletoe or something?”

He gave her a playfully scolding look. “Of course it’s mistletoe. Do you mean to tell me you’ve never seen mistletoe before?”

“I guess not.”

“Well, you at least know what it’s for, I hope.”

She nodded invitingly. One thing about Emily—she might not like sex, but she loved to kiss.

At that, Simon slid his arms around her waist and stepped up close to her.

“Is that a Christmas present in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

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Unwrapped

He laughed, but gazing down into her eyes turned him serious just as fast. “The latter.”

“Mmm,” she purred as he molded his mouth to hers, easing his tongue inside. Her arms curved around his neck as their bodies settled closer together, his erection pressing to the juncture of her thighs.

One kiss turned into two, then more, as their tongues lazily sparred. He kneaded her hips, then her sweet round ass full in his palms, and wondered if she could feel his cock getting harder and harder against her. He’d been so damn aroused all evening, all week—hell, for the last three years—that he wanted her madly, wanted to make his little office party fantasy come true here in the privacy of the hallway.

Would she let him? Or would she bring their passion to a grinding halt as usual?

Only one way to find out.

He let his kisses drop to the pale expanse of her neck, pleased when she leaned her head to one side, offering him easier access. “So pretty, my girl,” he breathed in her ear.

“Hot and beautiful. You make me the envy of every man here.”

She bit her lip, turning to gaze up into his eyes. “Really?”

He nodded. “You’re a gorgeous woman, Em. And I’m a lucky, lucky man.”

And if there
’
s any justice in the world
,
about to get luckier
. He eased one palm to gently cup her breast through the dress, listening to her heated sigh. Slowly massaging the weight of it in his hand, he stroked his thumb over her beautifully beaded nipple.

She gasped—but it wasn’t her “stop” gasp. No, this was more of an “oh yeah” kind of gasp. So he passed his thumb over that sweet, hard peak again, this time catching it between thumb and forefinger as he deepened their kiss, easing his tongue more fully into her mouth. She responded, arching, thrusting her breast into his grasp.

There were a million things Simon wanted to do to her right now while she was so heated up, so willing. He wanted to lean her against the wall, push her dress to her waist, drop to his knees and lick her damp slit. He wanted to urge
her
knees to the carpet and slide his cock into her warm mouth. He wanted to take her into Mr. Crain’s 19

Lacey Alexander

corner office at the end of the hall and fuck her on the CEO’s desk with her ankles locked around his neck, her high heels clicking together each time he pounded into her.

But he had to take this slow. Any progress he ever made with Emily and sex was always a result of going slow.

“I love you,” he reminded her, his voice coming raspy.

She whimpered through her pleasure that she loved him, too.

“And I want so much more of you, my baby.”

No answer, but when he reached to pull the slinky strap of her dress off her shoulder, she didn’t protest. The thin strap of her black bra came with it until he was reaching inside the cup to lift her breast free.

Another hot sigh echoed from his sugarplum’s lush lips, but she didn’t stop him, only watched as he lowered his mouth there, taking the erect pink peak in his mouth.

Ah, damn, he loved being able to see her—her full, round breast, the deep mauve shade of her distended nipple, the passion on her face—loved the simple fact that they weren’t in a dark room. He suckled her gently at first, then deeper, deeper, relishing the hardness on his tongue, wondering if she felt the sensation between her thighs. She moaned her pleasure and he used both tongue and lips on her, drawing, sucking, as if the taut pink bud were a little straw that stretched all the way to her cunt.

He kept waiting for her to say no, but she didn’t. And his hands moved without thought or decision—massaging her ass, then gathering the silky black fabric in his fists until he could reach underneath. And then—oh God, yeah—he found her bare flesh in his hands and remembered how she wore thigh-high stockings with dresses because they were more comfortable, and thongs with clothes she feared might show a panty line. She was so fucking sexy and didn’t even realize it.

Of course, the thong made it easy. Too tempting to resist. He eased his fingertips down the valley of her ass overtop the lace strip residing there, then eased two underneath and into her warm, drenching folds. She let out another hot gasp as he whispered deeply, “Wet like always for me, sugarplum. So fucking wet.”

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Unwrapped

He pushed two fingers up into her, listening to her soft sob, feeling the way she moved, rubbing against his cock in front, fucking his fingers in back. Yeah, oh yeah—it was finally happening. She was letting herself feel good. She was letting him make it happen. He fucked her deeper with his fingers, harder, and the only sound was their breath, ragged and raspy in rhythm with their movements. And then, soon, came the
noise
of his fingers, of her drenching wetness as he thrust up into her sweet pussy. Ah God—that new sound was enough to make him tremble, nearly enough to push him over the edge. He had to get inside her—now.

That’s when she grabbed his shoulders and spoke throatily. “Simon, we should stop. Someone could walk back here anytime.”

True enough—only one door stood between them and the party, and a big band rendition of “Jingle Bell Rock” echoed through, albeit muted. But Simon couldn’t have cared less. He just wanted to fuck her. He wanted it more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life. He had to have her, had to sink his aching cock into her welcoming flesh. “I don’t care,” he told her. “This is too damn good.”

“But…”

He eased her back through the doorway of Dana’s office. “In here. This will be more private.”

“But I can’t,” she said. And she still moved against him, on his fingers, but…those movements were decidedly slower now, more stilted.

Oh fuck
.
Fuck
,
fuck
,
fuck
. She was going cold on him. Just when he’d been stupid enough to think… Just when he’d believed she might really…
Shit
.

A few months ago, in this same position, he might have tried to cajole her, convince her, continue to excite and persuade her. But something had just clicked inside him.

He’d had enough.

And it wasn’t just because she wouldn’t fuck him here. He knew some women would go for that and some wouldn’t, and not going for it wasn’t a crime. It was
everything
—the whole fucking three years that he’d tried to be patient, tried to teach her, 21

Lacey Alexander

tried to make her want him, want more from their sex. It was that she’d just taken him so deep into arousal before pulling the plug on it that his cock physically hurt now.

He backed away from her, swearing under his breath.

“Simon, I’m sorry. But right here…it’s too…”

He simply shook his head. He couldn’t even talk to her right now, couldn’t explain.

His frustration ran too deep. “I’m leaving,” he said.

“But—”

“I’ll see you at home,” he snapped, then turned and walked out through the door that led to the lobby.

He’d just left her standing there, and he didn’t care. Maybe that made him a lousy guy, but he felt like he’d been teased, led on. One too many times. And he was damn tired of it.

If he had half a brain, he’d find out where Dana lived, get in his car and go
there
.

Emily would never have to know. Or, hell, maybe he should do it and
then
tell her about it, when he was breaking up with her.

He loved Emily, but he loved sex, too, and he didn’t know how much more rejection he was supposed to take.

Without another word to anyone milling about drinking their drinks and listening to their Christmas music, he strode through the lobby and out the glass doors toward the elevators, ready to quit being the good guy for a change.

Merry
-
fucking
-
Christmas to me
.

22

Unwrapped

December 12

Emily trudged along, shopping bags in hand, trying to wade through the crowd.

She loved Christmas, had always loved all the traditions and festivities that came along with it, but massive gridlock in the mall she could live without.

As she turned a corner, a teenage boy moving at a jog completely sideswiped her without looking back.

“Excuse you!” she snapped over her shoulder.

Sheesh. She was more than a little grouchy.

And if she was honest with herself, she probably couldn’t blame it solely on the holiday rush.

She was upset and worried about Simon. His office party had been almost a week ago, and they’d smoothed things over and made up, but the intensity of the argument still ate at her. She’d driven her own car to work the morning of the party, just as he had, and met him there after, so they’d have driven home separately anyway—but it was still hard to believe he’d just walked out on her, at
his
event. It wasn’t like him.

He’d acknowledged as much when she’d gotten home, and they’d talked about his frustration, about her confusion over why she just couldn’t enjoy anything but simple guy-on-top, girl-on-bottom sex—and sometimes even
that
was tense for her.

She wanted to believe the talk had helped—but they’d had the same discussion before. And Simon had seemed rather wooden ever since the party, coming home late and going to bed early most nights—basically, just avoiding her.

Trudging on through the mall, she remembered the first time she’d met Simon.

Harry Connick, Jr. had been singing “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” in the background, and Simon had been wearing a red and white Santa hat, clearly a little drunk and flirtatious as he handed out small gifts their party host had gotten for every guest. “You 23

Lacey Alexander

must be Emily,” he’d said in that fabulous accent. “Which means this one,” he held out a small silver box, “is for you.”

Their hands had brushed as she’d taken the gift and the sensation had fluttered down her thighs. “How did you know my name?”

“I was told Emily was the most stunning girl in the room. So that has to be you.”

Tall, lean, with brown professional-yet-stylishly-cut hair, Simon’s confidence was evident and attractive. His crooked smile had given away his tipsiness, but his eyes had held the sexiest gleam she’d ever seen.

Maybe that was the problem. Simon was so sexual. You could see that in him instinctively. It had drawn her, in an animal way, from the start. Only later, she’d remembered, realized, that even with him, she just wasn’t an animal. She didn’t know
how
to be. A couple of weeks ago, she’d thought of herself as a vixen inside a nun’s body—now another analogy struck her and she thought of herself as a tigress inside a staid housecat. She knew how to purr and rub up against Simon, but she didn’t know how to claw or growl or be wild.