Naughty Santa

Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

As soon as they walked into the store, Paris heard Joe turn the dead bolt on the front door.

“It’s kinda hard for the customers to get in with the door locked,” she said teasingly, hoping that kiss had pushed Joe over the edge. She was starting to think there would be no repeating the groping from the other day in Lydia’s kitchen, let alone actual sex.

“That’s the point. Nobody’s getting in. I’m crying uncle.”

“Uncle?”

Oh, yeah.

Plan Paris Drives Joe Crazy had been in full effect for three days.

Finally…success.

“Go to the workroom, Paris.”

She tilted her head, feigning confusion. “Why?”

“Because there are too many windows out here. Unless…” Joe stepped closer to her.

She had been flirting nonstop for days and had become a master of sexual innuendos, issuing constant invitations to her bed or whatever flat surface happened to be available at the moment. Joe had rebuffed every single one.

Until now.

Paris had relived that first day in the kitchen more times than she cared to count, the memory of Joe’s fingers inside her the inspiration for some pretty intense, pretty successful orgasms. She’d had to make do with her own fingers because she hadn’t anticipated the need for her vibrator when she was packing. More’s the fool her.

“Unless?” she whispered when he shifted closer, wrapping his arms around her waist, tugging her against him until she felt that big package she’d been asking for.

“Unless you’re okay with giving the good people of North Pole a holiday peep show they won’t soon forget.”

Paris smiled as she grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the back workroom. “Nope. This present is mine. And I don’t share my toys.”

Joe closed the door to the workroom with quite a bit of force, and then he threw the lock on that door too. “We don’t have much time. My mom will be here soon.”

There was something about the idea that they could be caught that made this even more exciting. Paris felt like a naughty schoolgirl, sneaking a make-out session with her boyfriend on his family’s couch.

She pulled her coat off, tossing it on top of a pile of feed bags, and Joe followed suit. After too many days of denying themselves, it was obvious neither of them had the patience to take this slow.

She reached over to unbutton his flannel shirt as he gripped her breasts through her shirt, roughly kneading them, plucking at her nipples until she groaned.

“I want you,” Paris whispered, running her hands over the front of his jeans. Joe placed his hand over hers, pressing it harder against his very impressive erection. Then she recalled why they’d been forced to stop the other night. “Please tell me you have a condom.”

He grinned, using his free hand to grip the back of her neck, pulling her toward him for a hard, hungry kiss. When he released her, his lips traveled to her neck where he murmured, “I have several,” before he stroked her skin with his tongue.

Jesus. Now that Joe was in, he was all the fucking way in. He held nothing back as he pushed her backward until her ass hit the edge of the dented old metal desk where Lydia stored her countless “cashier” notebooks.

Joe reached behind her and swept everything on top of the desk to the floor, while Paris struggled to undo the button on his jeans.

“Too slow.” He took over for her. His lips traveled up her neck to her ear, and he bit her earlobe. “Take off those fucking jeans, Paris.”

Both of them moved as fast as they could, considering they were wearing too many damn layers of clothing. Paris could be naked in ten seconds in California, something she intended to mention to the Indiana boy who seemed to love this frozen town.

“Shit,” she cursed when the left leg of her jeans got stuck on her boot. While the right leg was free, the left was trapped forever. The harder she tugged, the more stuck she got.

Joe’s shirt hung open, revealing rock-hard abs she wanted to sink her teeth into. He hadn’t bothered taking his jeans off. Instead, he’d shoved his pants and boxers to his ankles, leaving them there, and Paris briefly forgot about the disaster she’d made of undressing as she got her first good look at his cock.

This was the biggest package she’d ever unwrapped.

“Not bad,” she breathed.

Joe tore open the condom wrapper with his teeth, sheathing himself with one smooth motion, while she desperately tried to toe off the jeans with her free foot.

Joe stopped her when he lifted her onto the desk.

“Leave it.” He ran his fingers along her slit and from the grin on his face, she could tell he was pleased by how wet she was.

“Hurry,” she begged. “You played hard to get for too long.”

He chuckled. “Three days. I only last three goddamn days.”

“An eternity,” she complained.

“Lift up your shirt. I want to see those sexy tits of yours while I fuck you.”

Thank you, Santa Claus, for dirty talk. Paris lifted her shirt, and then did one better, drawing her breasts out over her bra.

He kissed her one more time, a quick, hard one that didn’t last nearly long enough. Then he lined his dick up with her pussy and pushed in. It was a deep thrust that hit all the right buttons as it slid in. She leaned back on her elbows as Joe gripped her hips, steadying her for his incredible assault.

Over and over, he pounded inside her body. She came after half a dozen strokes, but that didn’t slow Joe down. He fucked like a man possessed, and Paris loved every single second of it.

No one had ever wanted her like this. She’d read dirty books and watched sexy romance movies where the hero was so overwhelmed with passion, nothing else mattered except taking the heroine. She always figured those scenes were Hollywood make believe, pure fiction, female fantasy.

Until this moment.

The men she had been with in the past were all about the show, more concerned about how certain angles made them look than they were about her pleasure. One time, Victor had wanted to have sex in front of a mirror, and halfway through, she’d realized it was because he wanted to check his muscle tone, not see her. Needless to say, her orgasm had been elusive after that.

Joe was different from anyone she’d ever been with. He was rough and raw and unrestrained.

“Cup your breasts, Paris. Pinch your nipples.”

There was pretty much nothing Joe could ask for that he wasn’t going to get. She did as he asked, thrilled by how much her actions turned him on. And her.

His thrusts grew harder. “You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen. Can’t get enough of you.”

“God!” she cried out as he rubbed her clit, triggering a second, harder orgasm. “Fuck! Yes.” Her arms gave out, and Paris fell to her back on the desk.

Joe came as well, leaning over her, caging her beneath him on the hard surface.

“Jesus Christ. Holy fuck.” His voice was deep, husky, and she loved the almost reverent sound of his words, like she’d rocked his world.

Which was definitely what he’d just done to hers.

They lay there for a minute or so, both gasping for breath. Then Joe lifted his head and shook it, looking somewhat guilty. “I usually try for a little more finesse. Didn’t mean to jump on you like that.”

Paris laughed softly. “I don’t remember complaining.”

Joe seemed to recall where they were as he looked around the workroom. He pushed himself up, then stepped away. Pulling off the condom, he wrapped it in a tissue and tossed it in the wastebasket. “Remind me to dump that later. Last thing we need is for my mom to catch sight of that.”

She pushed herself upright, sitting on the edge of the desk, watching as Joe hitched his boxers and jeans back up before buttoning his flannel shirt.

He was dressed in seconds, and then he turned his attention to her. Paris sucked in an unsteady breath when he tucked her breasts back inside her bra, making sure to tease each nipple as he did so. She loved the regretful look on his face when he pulled her shirt down, covering her once more.

That was when they looked down at her feet, one leg of her jeans inside out and dangling over the boot trapped inside.

He chuckled as he spent the next few minutes trying to free her. “How the hell did you manage to get so stuck?”

“I blame the boots.” The jeans came off, and she righted the pant leg, then shimmied into them again, giving Joe quite the show. Given the look in his eyes, he appreciated it.

Once Paris was dressed again, he cupped her cheeks and kissed her until she was light-headed.

“So,” he said as they parted. “Now what? How does this ‘sex just for sex’ thing work?”

“Just like this,” she said, gesturing between them. “We know I’m leaving in a week or two. No attachments. Just good filthy fun whenever the mood strikes us.”

“Any time?” he asked, running his thumb over her bottom lip.

“Any time. As long as we don’t get caught. The other key component to keeping it casual is that no one else should know so no one can have an opinion and make it anything less than satisfying and sexy as hell.” Paris crossed her legs and leaned back on the desk on her forearms.

Joe grinned. “I wasn’t planning to shout it from a megaphone. Though I wouldn’t mind seeing some of these local guys jealous of me. You’re the hottest thing to hit town since they opened that Dunkin’ Donuts out by the expressway.”

Paris laughed. “I’ll take that as an enormous compliment.”

“It was meant that way.”

They both heard it at the same time—a pounding on the front door. Joe cursed and she jumped off the desk, smoothing her hair.

“We smell like sex.” Even as Joe said it, he grinned.

Paris opened the desk drawer and pulled out the cinnamon room-freshener spray. She’d been dousing the Christmas tree display with it to create a scent memory for customers.

Pushing the nozzle, she hit Joe with it.

He jerked back, waving his arm in front of him. “What the fuck, Paris? I smell like a breakfast roll now.”

“Who doesn’t love a cinnamon bun?” Paris gave him a smile. “Come over later tonight.”

Joe stopped acting like he was choking and raised his eyebrows. “Does that mean what I think it means?”

“What do you think it means?”

“That I get to taste your pussy.”

Wow. Her nipples tightened, and she wished they were anywhere but at the store right now. The pounding on the front door got louder. They were out of time.

“Yes,” she said. “That’s exactly what it means.”

“I think Christmas came early.”

“Just don’t you come early.” Paris winked at him.

Joe growled and half turned her so he could swat her ass. Hard. “You’ll be punished for that later.”

Her inner thighs bloomed with heat.

She was starting to love Indiana.