Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

Joe was never going to get enough of her.

That wasn’t how this was supposed to go. At first, he was supposed to just avoid her, ignore her. Then he’d decided that he would have to put up with her. That had lasted about three days. Then it was supposed to be a casual, for fun, superhot fling. That had lasted about, oh, maybe twelve hours.

Joe almost laughed at that. Who was he kidding? He’d been falling for Paris before he’d even seen her naked. The casual part had never been real.

He could say that that was par for the course for him. He did tend to fall hard. But damn, he would have never seen it coming with a California girl and definitely not this fast. It had never happened this quickly before.

Paris was biting her bottom lip, looking at him with wide eyes. She was upset because the potential buyers hadn’t liked the store. Not because she wasn’t going to make a sale. It was because they hadn’t loved this place the way she did.

She loved the Holly Jolly.

Joe loved that she loved the Holly Jolly.

He also wanted to make her happy again because he didn’t like seeing her sad.

“Does that mean you have an idea about how to make me feel better?” she asked, batting those big eyes at him. “Because those Goldfish didn’t do much for me.”

“I have the perfect way to make you feel better.”

She smiled at him and slid off the stool. She came to stand right in front of him, tipping her head back to meet his gaze. “Oh, I know you do. That is definitely what I need.”

Joe knew what she was thinking, and it was, of course, pretty much what he was thinking too. It was what he was always thinking whenever they were together.

Stripping her down, licking her from head to toe, and then fucking her until neither of them could walk a straight line would make her feel good.

But he could do even better than that.

“Come on.” Joe reached for her coat—such that it was—and held it out for her.

She gave him a puzzled little smile but stepped back and put her arm through a sleeve. Once she was bundled up, he moved to the wall panel behind the front counter and shut off all the lights. Except for the Christmas lights that stayed on all the time. Hey, some stores had security lights. They had strings of red, blue, green, and orange lights that hung from the false ceiling over their version of Santa’s village. Then he returned to Paris and tucked her under his arm.

“Let’s go get some of your Christmas cheer back.”

She raised both eyebrows. “Oh. I was talking about sex.”

Joe laughed. “Yes, my little nymphomaniac, I know.” He leaned in and kissed her temple. “So am I.”

“Kinky Santa sex?” she asked, intrigued.

He gave a surprised bark of laughter. “Excuse me?”

“You know. You put on your Santa costume, and I sit on your lap and tell you all the things I want and all the ways I was naughty this year. Then I say dirty things about your north pole and how I want you to stuff my stocking.”

Joe swallowed hard. “I didn’t realize you had a Santa fetish.”

Was that weird? Maybe a little.

But he was also thinking about how he could make all of that happen. He glanced toward the Santa chair that he would occupy in a few days during the Christmas party here at the store.

No. He could not fuck Paris on the Santa chair where the kids of North Pole would come to see him in all their sweet Christmas innocence.

Not even if she was dressed up as his sexy elf.

Not even if her Christmas list was made up of things like fuzzy handcuffs, edible body lotion, and nipple clamps.

Probably.

“I didn’t realize I had a naughty Santa fetish until I saw you in those Santa pants the first day we met.” Her eyes hot but her smile soft, almost affectionate.

“I’ll admit, I had a different idea,” Joe told her. “But?—”

She put her hand over his mouth. “I want to do your idea.”

He kissed her fingertips and pulled her hand away. “You don’t even know what my idea is.”

“Doesn’t matter. I want to do it. I’ll do anything with you. I totally trust you.”

The warmth Joe suddenly felt in his chest had nothing to do with the idea of her in a short green elf skirt, or candy-cane-striped thigh-high stockings, or the idea of covering her body with red and green sprinkles. That heat was there, always just under the surface, but this was a lot more. This was the desire to take care of her and make her happy and make memories with her. Fun, silly, sweet memories that they could talk and laugh about over and over again.

He knew that wasn’t going to happen because she was leaving the day after the Christmas party, sale or no sale.

But damned if Joe didn’t want those memories for himself.

“Then let’s go.” He held his hand out for her to take. She threaded her fingers in his, and they headed for his truck.

He drove her to his place and within minutes, had her on his sofa, wrapped in a blanket, the fireplace roaring, and milk heating in a pan on the stove.

“This is not what I was envisioning.” She watched him over the back of the couch as he moved around the kitchen. Not that she appeared to be complaining, given she had tucked the blanket around her shoulders more securely and was settled into his couch cushions as if she was planning to stay for a while.

“Well, I know your visions for my Santa suit,” Joe said. “What were you envisioning about my house?”

He was more than willing to try to make all her ideas happen. He stirred the milk and then reached into the cupboard for the cocoa mix and the bag of mini marshmallows that he kept around for Jaden. Not that he didn’t dip into both after shoveling snow off his walk or working on the roof at the Holly Jolly on a particularly cold morning. Just for instance.

“You carrying me in over your shoulder and stripping me down and fucking me hard against your front door.”

Joe coughed as heat shot through him. “We can always go back out to the truck and start over. In fact, let’s do that now.” He started to pull the pan from the stove.

“No.” Paris snuggled deeper into his couch and looked over at his Christmas tree. “This is perfect. No do-overs.”

Joe grimaced. “Fine, but we’re doing your idea next time.”

Paris gave him a distracted nod, too entranced by his holiday decorations.

His tree was covered in multicolored lights and a collection of ornaments that were a mix of childhood keepsakes and new ones he’d seen in the store over the years and liked. Compared to the trees Paris had decorated at the Holly Jolly, it was simple and old-fashioned. It had no specific theme or color palette, and he’d had no idea what she thought of it. Judging by her smile, he’d say she was okay with it.

Joe forced himself to concentrate on what he was doing.

What was he doing?

Oh yeah. Making sure having sex with him was something different and memorable, something the California girl would look back on when she returned to the land of sand and sun since was part of her first—and maybe only—Christmas in the snow.

He mixed hot chocolate powder into the milk in the pan, added a splash of peppermint schnapps, and reached for the bag of marshmallows. But as he dropped three into one cup, Joe had a better idea. He fished them out with a spoon and turned for the fridge, pulling out a can of whipped cream and quickly swirling some on top of each cup. Then he drizzled chocolate sauce over the whipped cream and shook the green and red sprinkles over the top. He had the sprinkles from last year when he and Jaden had made cookies. After that, he tucked a candy cane into each cup. Joe started to return the whipped cream to the fridge but thought better of that too, tucking the can under his arm before picking up the cups of cocoa. Joe hit the light switch on the wall with his elbow as he passed, leaving the only light in the living room coming from the tree and the fireplace.

He joined Paris on the couch and set the cups on the coffee table.

She grinned and started to reach for one.

“Oh, no, hang on there.”

She lifted a brow. “I don’t get to have any cocoa?”

“You get to have cocoa. But my way.”

She smiled, intrigued. “You mean there’s more than one way to have cocoa?”

“Absolutely. Because you’ve never had cocoa with me,” he said, scooting closer.

“I can’t wait for you to show me.”

“Lie back.”

Paris did as he asked without hesitation. He loved how easily she gave up control to him, loved that she trusted him.

His heart had skipped a few beats when she’d said that to him back at the store. Earning the trust of such a wonderful, beautiful woman was a heady thing.

Joe reached up to unwrap the blanket from around her. She gave a little shiver, but he didn’t think it was because she was cold.

“Now close your eyes.”

Again, she did as he asked without question. Very obedient. Joe liked that. A lot. He slid closer until he was right next to her, and she was pressed into the back cushions. She sunk in and gave a little sigh that sounded very contented.

Joe grinned. “This is deconstructed cocoa,” he told her. “The only way to truly appreciate all the flavors.”

“I’m ready.”

He reached over and swiped up a dollop of whipped cream with his finger. Colored sprinkles clung to the cream as he ran his finger over her lips.

Instinctively, her tongue darted out to taste it. “Yummy,” she said softly. “Love whipped cream.”

“Yeah? Let me see.” Joe leaned in and kissed her, tasting the cream and then her, just under it. Delicious. “That is pretty good,” he agreed, sitting back.

The problem with the plan to give Paris fun, silly, sweet Christmas memories of North Pole—and him—was that he was going to have those same memories.

He wanted them, wanted to remember her. But it was going to make Christmas, and hot cocoa, bittersweet from here on out.

That was tomorrow’s problem because there was no stopping now.

“While it was nice on your lips,” he said quietly. “I think there’s a way to make it even better.”

Paris’s response was more breath than sound. “Okay.”

Joe started unbuttoning her blouse. Her breath caught for a moment, but she did nothing to stop him. She wiggled a little against the cushion, but was still otherwise, letting him open her shirt. She shifted so he could pull the sleeves down her arms, but he left it bunched behind her.

She’d dressed festively for the meeting with the potential buyers. Her blouse was white, and her skirt was red. Her bra was also white so as not to show through. Joe reached behind her and unhooked the lace and silk scrap, pulling it off and tossing it over the back of the couch.

Her nipples were hard, her sweet, firm breasts looking delicious. He reached for more whipped cream and swiped it over her right nipple, causing it to bead even tighter.

“Joe,” she gasped slightly.

He lifted his finger to her mouth, and she drew it inside, sucking gently, as he lowered his head to her nipple, doing the same there. She quickly figured out that whatever she did to his finger was the same attention he gave her nipple. Soon she was sucking hard, and then she even gave his finger a little nip.

He did the same. Her legs shifted against the cushion as she moaned, “Joe.”

Joe lifted her head. “So that’s the whipped cream.”

She gave a husky laugh. “Love whipped cream. Still.”

He reached behind her for the zipper on her skirt and dragged it down, skimming her skirt over her hips and down her legs. Her panties were red like the skirt. Nice. He slid his finger over the front of the red silk, grazing her clit, and she gave a sweet little gasp.

“These are in my way,” he said gruffly, whisking the tiny piece of silk down her legs as well.

Joe reached for the candy cane in the cup next and lifted it to her mouth. “Next flavor.”

She opened her mouth, and he slid the candy cane over her lips. She slid her tongue out, tasting the peppermint stick. She gave it a long lick, then sucked the end.

Good girl. She knew exactly where he was going with this.

Joe moved between her legs, which she parted without any urging. “You need to hold this,” he told her.

She took the candy cane in hand, and he slid down her body.

“Do you like peppermint, Paris?”

“So much.” She licked the candy cane again.

Joe followed suit, licking up her inner thigh and then over her clit.

She circled the tip of the candy cane with her tongue, and he did the same to her clit.

Then she sucked.

So did he.

They continued like that until the red stripes on the end of the candy cane were gone, the girth of the candy noticeably reduced, and she was breathing too hard and moaning too much to really pay attention to the candy anymore.

She let the candy cane fall against her chest, her hand over her face as she gasped and moaned, when he slid a finger into her tight, hot, wet pussy.

“Come for me, Paris.”

“Joe! God…”

“Honey, I said come.” He sucked on her clit again, sliding a second finger into her wet heat, and she came apart.

“Joe,” she gasped. “I?—”

“Not done yet.” He shifted. “We haven’t even gotten to the chocolate yet.”

“Wait.” She reached out, grabbing his wrist. “I can’t take anymore. Your turn.”

Joe looked up at her. “My turn?”

“Yep.” She wiggled under him until she could reach the closest cup. “Unzip, Big Guy.”

Joe wanted to protest and keep going because he wanted to lick chocolate sauce from her body. He wanted to drip the hot chocolate—that was significantly cooled by now—over her breasts and stomach.

However, he paused too long because she dipped her finger into the whipped cream and chocolate sauce and held it up. “I want to lick this off your cock.”

Well, then.

“How can I argue with that?”

“You can’t.” She gave him a smug grin.

Joe leaned over and kissed her stomach, then shifted to sit up.

“Shirt off too,” she told him, moving onto her knees. Then she put her finger into her mouth and sucked the whipped cream clean.

Yeah, no problem. He pulled his shirt off and tossed it, then unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans.

“Lift up.” She reached for him, pushing denim and boxers out of the way.

Joe raised his hips, and she pulled his jeans and boxers to his ankles. She immediately returned to her main object of interest, reaching for the cup again so that she could paint his cock with whipped cream and chocolate sauce.

Just the touch of her fingers was sweet torture. Then she leaned in and licked every bit off before sucking his cock, just to be sure she got it all.

His fingers tangled in her hair, and his head fell back, as he worked on just breathing. He was determined not to come in her mouth, but damn, his girl was good.

Or just really liked chocolate syrup.

“Enough.” Joe tugged on her hair, pulling her mouth away before he lost it.

“You didn’t let me tap out,” she teased.

“Need you. Now,” he told her, wishing he had the breath to laugh at her joke. He reached for her thigh and pulled it over his legs until she was straddling his lap.

“Yes.” She kissed him, her mouth sweet and sticky from the blow job.

Joe plucked her nipple, also sticky from their play, and slid his other hand between them to tease her clit.

“Now, Joe, please.”

He reached for his jeans pocket and pulled out a condom. They both worked together to get it on, and then she shifted forward. Reaching between them, she positioned his cock at her entrance, then lowered herself down, taking him deep.

“Damn, you feel good,” he told her gruffly.

“Yeah, this North Pole is perfect,” she said with a grin, even though her voice was breathy.

Joe pinched her ass. She’d gotten a naughty Santa quip in there anyway.

Then he gripped her hips, and she grasped his shoulders, and they started moving. She rode him fast and hard, and soon they were both coming, calling out each other’s names.

Paris slumped against him, her arms around his neck and her face in the curve of his shoulder.

He ran his hands up and down her back, breathing in the scent of her hair, sex, and peppermint hot chocolate.

Joe was never going to be able to drink it again without thinking of her.

He was okay with that.