Page 40 of Miss Christmas

Since when have you done anything halfway, Scarlet? Words from her sister haunted her, calmed her again. He raised his head and held her far enough away from him that he could see her.

“Our torrid affair?”

She nodded like a bobble-head, a silly grin pasted on her face.

“We’ve hardly begun if we’re talking torrid.”

“Show me,” she said. His words triggered a torrent of hormonal desire that left her breathless and throbbing for him. All of a sudden, feeling the muscles of his arms through his jacket caused an overload of her senses, and at the same time she needed so much more of him.

Pressing his hand against the small of her back, hot enough so she could swear he’d left an imprint, with his other arm, he pushed open a door and guided her inside. Once the door fell closed behind them, he slammed her back against the it, darted his hand out to deftly snick the lock, and then kissed her like she was the last woman on earth.

As his hand slipped under through the slit in her dress, ran up the length of her leg to the apex of her thighs, and pressed against her swollen nub, she shuddered and cried out. He put his other hand over her mouth to quiet her and she nibbled it hungrily, tasting the salty sweat and raw man. Her back arched, pressing her hips forward. She needed to feel his dick against her, not his hand. She reached down the front of his pants and grabbed him through the cloth, the big solid shaft of him, hard and scalding.

“If you do that I won’t last more than a minute and I want to come inside you, Scarlet.” His voice shook in intensity. “I want you melting and clenching around me.” His breath heated her ear and neck and face.

“I—want you.” She could barely talk, but she moved her hand from him and grabbed the waist of her pantyhose and yanked them down with his help. He unzipped his pants and she pulled his silky overheated cock free, loving how it jumped at her. Before she could think her next thought, Will sank his hands into the flesh of her rear and lifted her, with her dress bunched high, wedging her back against the wall. She wrapped her arms around him and held on, barely touching the floor with one toe.

She knew exactly what to do with his lively cock and slipped it inside her on a moan of pleasure, listening to his hard breathing and groan of satisfaction as he pressed her against the wall.

“God, Will, I needed this, needed you so much.” She gasped as he throbbed and thrusted against her in small powerful movements. His hands pressed into her flesh, holding her in exactly the right place to feel the spiraling against her clit, the juices, the melting of her insides, the tightening and rising as if to an impossibly high pitch until she reached that instant of blankness, the stoppage of time before everything came apart in a wildly clenching burst of wet heat.

“I’m with you, Scarlet. I feel it.” Will seized up and groaned, burying his face in her hair, holding her excruciatingly tight while she shuddered and felt him pour into her, felt the satisfying swell of his throbs, one after another until they slowed and stopped.

With shaking arms, he released her.

Still sucking in breaths, with him raining kisses all over her face, she realized where they were. The men’s room.

And someone was knocking on the door.

“Will.” She took his face in her hands and looked into his eyes. She wanted to be in his bed right now.

“Shit.” He looked troubled.

She was half naked and had cum streaming down her leg in the men’s room. She needed to get her shit together. But she still stood in Will’s arms. She smiled at him.

“I need to clean up,” she whispered.

The knock at the door was louder this time and the knob rattled.

Will kissed her and then took a step back, zipping his pants and stuffing his shirt back inside. Then her mind came fully back to reality.

“How do we get out without people seeing us, without them guessing what went on? They’ll think the worst—”

“Don’t worry. It’s probably no one important. I’ll take a look out the door and stall for time while you get yourself . . . put together.”

* * *

Will cracked the door and swore under his breath. Outside stood two of the final judges, the deputy mayor of New York and the Broadway producer. And the NY Fashion Magazine editor. And her photographer. He took a breath and opened the door partially, standing in the breach to block them.

“William, hello,” the deputy mayor said. “Is this men’s room out of order?”

“Deputy Mayor,” he nodded. “No—that is, temporarily. I’ll be out in a minute. Just fixing things.” He shut the door and rushed to the pile of hand towels at the sink, grabbed a few, and then spread them on the floor inside the last stall as if he’d been mopping up.

“What are you doing? How—?”

“Ready?” He didn’t wait for an answer. He took his jacket off and put it around her, covering as much as he could, he wrapped an arm around her, tucking her under his shoulder.

“You’re smothering me, I can hardly breath.”