Christmas Break Read online

  Sitting beside me where I huddled next to the warm fire, Brax slid my coat off my shoulders and tucked me against his side in gesture both possessive and protective. Wow, if this was how it felt to be Brax’s girlfriend, I wanted that job. But I so wasn’t qualified. There wasn’t a cheerleader or sorority-girl bone in my body. But tonight none of that mattered, because the storm had removed every other woman from the equation. Tonight it was all about us, and if one night was all I’d get from him, I’d take it and be grateful.

  Turning me toward him, he nuzzled my neck, nipping here and there, marking me as his. I knew it was temporary, but for the next several hours I’d embrace oblivious denial. I slipped my hands under his sweater, running my palms over his rock-hard abs up toward his pecs.

  He sucked a breath through his teeth. “You’re playing with fire, sweetheart.”

  I slid my hands behind his back. “I’m counting on it.”

  He cupped my ass in his palms and pulled me against his big body. “I want to see the rest of that tattoo,” he said, then swallowed and licked his lips. His gaze flicked downward to my breasts.

  “Here?” Making out, yeah, I’d be up for that, but taking my clothes off in the bar? I’m not a prude. I’ve had my share of guys—not that I’ve slept around, but I’m well-travelled, and I like sex. A lot. I was pretty sure I’d really like sex with Brax. But, here? Now?

  I’d be fucking crazy to agree to this, but sanity was overrated. I glanced toward the windows. A layer of snow covered the parking lot, and huge flakes swirled in the howling wind, already covering our footsteps. Not a soul stood on the street outside.

  Extricating myself, I crossed to the door and locked it. The click of the deadbolt rang throughout the room, sending a message as loud as Grizzly Stadium’s PA system.

  The windows presented a different problem. They were tinted and high, but someone could still see in if they wanted, though they’d have to walk up to the glass, slogging through a few feet of snow.

  Oh, what the fuck.

  Brax must’ve been thinking the same thing. He pulled me against him, his hot mouth on mine, all wild and crazy with desperation and need and something deeper. Scary deep. But I wasn’t his type. At least not on the surface. He wasn’t my type, either, what with his tailored pants and his fancy bistros, but tonight that didn’t matter one bit. Maybe it would tomorrow—or maybe it wouldn’t.

  His hot gaze raked up and down my body, as heady as a physical caress. “Take it off,” he growled.

  Normally I don’t respond well to orders, but his smoldering blue eyes wouldn’t take no for an answer and neither would my body. With trembling hands, I pulled my dress over my head and stood before him in a lacy black bra and a black g-string—hey, a girl had to be prepared with a man like Brax. Yet despite my choice of underwear, a rare surge of modesty swept through me and I fought the urge to cross my arms over my chest.

  A flower garden of tattoos wound their way from between my legs, up my stomach to my breasts, and Brax gaped at my body art with an expression I couldn’t decipher. I held still, afraid to move, to breathe, afraid of what he might be thinking.

  He raised his gaze to mine, his eyes burning me with their intensity and heat. “Oh, yeah, that’s what I’m talking about.” His voice was a reverent whisper. “You’re beautiful.”

  I blew out my held breath. “You don’t mind the tats?”

  I watched his face through lowered lashes, loving how the firelight played on his cheekbones and reflected the flames in his blue eyes. “Aw, hell, I love them. They’re hot.”

  Smooth words. I was probably just another piece of ass to him, but I didn’t care. This wouldn’t be the first time I’d let a guy use my body while I used his.

  Stepping forward, I unbuttoned the top button of his slacks and pulled his zipper down past his hard erection. His strangled groan rewarded my bold actions and fueled my courage. Pushing his underwear over his hips and down his thighs, I gaped at heaven. His long, thick dick bobbed up and down as if waving to me.

  Well, hello, big boy. I’m happy to see you, too.

  That dick was going to feel incredible pumping inside me. But first a little foreplay. Or a lot of foreplay. We had all night. It was Christmas Eve, and Brax and I were unwrapping each other.

  Brax reached for me, and I swatted his hand away. “My turn first.”

  With a smug smile, I knelt down in front of him. He leaned against the pool table, bracing his hands on the wooden lip, a true man-slut, more than happy to let me have my way with him. I wrapped one hand around his thick base and bent my head to lick the tip of his penis. His hips jerked and his thighs tightened, muscles bulging.

  “Fuck. Aubrey.” A strangled moan wrenched from his mouth.

  I wasn’t done yet. Not even close. Gazing up, I locked eyes with him as I took his cock in my mouth, circling my tongue around the head. Another quarterback named Bobby Sheldon from my wild high school days taught me how to go down on him when I was just a freshman and he was a senior. I’d always thanked Bobby for the tutoring and the practice—lots of practice. But even Bobby, as big as he’d been, didn’t come close to Brax. Brax was freaking awesome.

  My lips stretched around his cock, and I took him deep to the back of my throat, savoring the salty taste of him. Pulling back, I sucked on his velvet-covered tip. His experienced fingers unhooked my bra with a flick, and he pinched and tweaked my nipples while I did my damn best to give him the blowjob of his life. Judging by how his cock twitched, his balls tightened, and his eyes rolled back in his head, I achieved my goal.

  Just when I thought he’d come in my mouth, he put his hands on my shoulders and gently pushed me away. “I don’t want to come like this. I want to fuck you.”

  Before I could process his words, he’d flipped me onto my back across the pool table and peeled off my g-string, which was followed by his sweater. I sat up and savored the view. His body was magnificent, all hard angles and long lean muscles. A single tattoo of a grizzly’s head adorned one bicep.

  His sexy mouth kicked up when he caught me ogling him. Bending down, he gave me a great shot of his fine ass while he fished a small square packet from his pants. Ripping it open with his teeth, he sheathed his beautiful boy in a magnum-sized condom.

  I’d never had a Christmas Eve like this one.

  Chapter 7

  Tattoo Fantasy

  Brax

  Aubrey had just given me the best head I’d ever had. Despite what others might think, I’m not a selfish guy. In fact, when it came to giving and taking during sex, I’m pretty damn generous. A happy partner makes for a happy me.

  Aubrey attempted to sit up, and I gently pushed her back against the green felt of the pool table. A lion tattoo peeked out from under her left breast, hiding among the branches of a leafy tree. It made me smile. Aubrey made me smile. Thinking of the nights I could spend discovering new images among her extensive tattoos made me smile even more.

  Grasping her calves, I spread her wide, enjoying the sight of her shaved pussy glistening with her juices. I’d lap up those juices later, but now I’d promised my dick and Aubrey the satisfaction that only comes from being buried inside a fucking hot and willing body.

  She wrapped her legs around my waist and arched her hips, making this mewing sound like a kitten. My horny little kitten.

  I guided my cock to her wet entrance and bit the inside of my cheek to prevent myself from ramming into her like a crazed animal. The slight pain didn’t deter me. In fact, it drove me more nuts. Holding her waist, I pushed past her entrance, shocked at how tight she was. Most of the beautiful women I’d been with started fucking when they were pretty damn young, and they’d spread the joy around. Not Aubrey, judging by how snugly she surrounded my cock in pure wet, warm bliss.

  I sank into her inch by inch until I was buried inside her hot, moist heaven. Good thing I was disciplined because I wanted nothing more than to slam into her again and again. But I didn’t, and I wouldn’t. Not yet. Pressi
ng deep inside her, I leaned down and took a hard nipple in my mouth while rolling the other with my fingers. I licked and sucked, while she writhed on the pool table and begged for mercy.

  Forget that, honey. This man doesn’t show mercy, and you’ll be thanking me for it.

  Aubrey arched her back and ground her crotch against mine, whimpering as she dug her Christmas-red fingernails into my shoulders. I kissed a trail to her mouth while an insatiable hunger thrummed through my body. She wrapped her arms around my neck as I pulled out almost completely, then slowly, agonizingly slid back inside her. I pulled out, slid inside, pulled out, slid inside. My rhythm increased with each stroke as my legendary iron control cracked like a concrete wall after an earthquake. A few more slow strokes would just about kill me.

  I gritted my teeth, tension radiating through every muscle in my body, but Aubrey grabbed my ass and pulled me harder against her. Iron control? So much for that. I thrust deep inside her over and over. By the way she shouted my name, she loved it as much as I did. Lust ruled, control surrendered to frenzy, and Aubrey and I lost ourselves in each other. Our sweaty bodies slid over each other, rhythmically slap-slap-slapping together.

  Her muscles surrounding my dick squeezed tight, and I knew she was coming, and I wasn’t going without her. I reached between us and found that little nub. One little touch and she came harder, writhing and moaning just as I exploded.

  I died, because no one survived such pleasure and lived to tell about it. No one. Aubrey and I soared like a football through the uprights, together in body, mind, and soul. Orgasms had always been intensely physical experiences for me, but this went beyond physical, beyond anything my humble human brain could ever describe.

  And I wanted to do it again.

  Aubrey and I clung to each other, chests heaving like marathon runners, our hair soaked with sweat, our bodies drained, and Aubrey’s breath tickled my ear.

  “Stay with me for Christmas.”

  “Just try to pry me away,” I replied.

  After what just happened, I wasn’t going anywhere.

  Chapter 8

  Christmas Present

  Aubrey

  I woke to sun streaming in my window, reflected off the snow outside that sheathed everything in white and silver. The wind had stopped just before midnight, and we’d struggled five blocks through the snow up the hill to my little apartment. After an encore or two of sex, we’d drifted to sleep in each other’s arms.

  Brax lay sprawled on his back, his long arms and legs everywhere, his chest rising and falling in an easy rhythm. He opened one eye and squinted at me like a pirate, and in a way he was a pirate. He’d completely captured my heart and stowed it in his treasure chest.

  Rolling onto his side, Brax propped his head on one hand and watched me. His tousled dark brown hair stood up every which way and also fell onto his forehead in an unruly, sexy mess. “Merry Christmas, gorgeous.”

  “Merry Christmas, handsome.” I smiled at him, feeling all safe and warm and cared for. Even if it was an illusion, I’d embrace the pleasure while it lasted.

  “You’re beautiful.” He caught a lock of my hair and wound it around his finger.

  “Tattoos and all?”

  “Especially the tattoos. They’re like those paintings that every time you look at them you see something new hidden in the design. I love them.”

  “I’m glad you do.”

  “And you don’t?”

  “Everyone in my family gets them. I had my first one before I was in school. A former boyfriend was a tattoo artist. I was in a wild stage where I wanted everything in extremes. He did this entire landscape on my body.”

  “So you have a constant reminder of him.” Brax frowned, as if he suddenly didn’t like the tattoos quite as much.

  “Yeah. You can see why I regret them, not to mention they could be a job deterrent.”

  “In what way?” I’d clearly piqued his interest.

  “You’ll laugh.”

  “I won’t. I promise. I’d never laugh at your ambitions, Aubrey. Never.”

  I closed my eyes for a moment. When I opened them, he hadn’t moved and still stared at me with that intent expression so uniquely him. “I want to be a female sportscaster.”

  “Really?” He grinned, as if he really liked the idea.

  “Yeah, really.” I rolled to my side and imitated his pose, watching his expression for signs of disapproval. There didn’t seem to be any.

  “I think that’s cool. You seem to know a lot about football. You had me figured out, but I’m working on my bad habits.”

  “You should be.” I had to smile. “My family thinks my career choice is the stupidest thing ever.”

  He shook his head. “I know that story.”

  Wait. “You said your family supported you.”

  “On the surface. Underneath, they think I’m a big failure.” His smile faded, and he looked over my shoulder at some distant point on the wall.

  “My family,” I admitted, “if you can call them that, doesn’t support anything I’m interested in. I pay my way through college. They think I should quit and go to work in my dad’s motorcycle shop like everyone else in the family.”

  “Do you ride?”

  “I never had a choice,” I said. “We all ride. I like it, but I’m more like my mother. I don’t have the fever they have. I’m not wild about the lifestyle. I wanted away from it.” And from other things. Horrible, embarrassing things. Only, they’d followed me here just when I thought it was dead and buried. But I didn’t want to talk about that.

  “You’ve been on your own since you left for college?”

  I nodded, taking my own turn at staring past his shoulder at the wall. “Longer than that, really. My dad wasn’t one for curfews and rules.”

  “You haven’t had it easy, have you?” He reached out and rubbed the roses on my shoulder. His deep voice was soft and his blue eyes shone with concern.

  “No, but I’m a fighter.”

  “I can tell. That’s what I like about you, and I think you’ll make an awesome sportscaster.”

  “Even with the tats?” I asked.

  “Especially with the tats. I’d watch your show. I’d be your most devoted fan.”

  I laughed. The man knew all the right words. What a charmer. And I’d never get tired of that lopsided grin.

  “How about a Christmas breakfast?” I asked. “I’m an incredible cook. You’ll be in shock and awe.”

  “Cool. Shock-and-awe away, sweetheart. Afterwards, we can get to know each other even better.”

  He sat up on the side of the bed and stretched his incredible body, and I took a few moments to study the play of muscles across his back. Get to know each other better? I liked that idea, even though I’d spent the last several hours exploring every square inch of him. Yet, it wasn’t just his body I wanted to explore. His hopes, his dreams, his successes, his failures—I wanted to know it all.

  I also wanted this magic to extend beyond the holidays.

  * * * * *

  Breakfast didn’t happen. Brax and I ended up back in bed—well, technically on the couch—but we did take time to eat. After staying in bed until late morning, Brax disappeared for an hour and came back with a two-foot-tall artificial tree from his frat house, while I whipped up the best Christmas dinner I’d ever had. I loved to cook, and yesterday I’d bought a small turkey from the sale freezer bin along with all the other fixings. Crazy, I know, but I’d planned on celebrating alone.

  I mashed potatoes, made gravy, dressing, a salad, and an equally awesome pumpkin pie. As a kid I’d dreamed of Christmases like this—minus the sex part—instead of the ones I’d grown up with where everyone drank too much, got into fights, and dinner consisted of burgers and greasy fries. Brax and I feasted by candlelight at the card table in my miniscule dining area, his little Christmas tree with its single strand of multicolored lights blinking merrily in the corner. We watched sappy classic Christmas movies late into the evening,
in between hot make-out sessions. I loved Miracle on 34th Street, and Brax loved Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.

  After Susan got her miracle and Rudolph flew away into the night, Brax excused himself. He came back a few minutes later with a small wrapped package. “This is for you. I bought it yesterday when I knew we were having dinner together.”

  He handed it to me. Obviously, he’d wrapped it himself, judging by the crooked corners and ratty ribbon, which made it the most beautifully wrapped present I’d ever been given. I stared at it, thrilled and horrified at the same time. I didn’t have a damn thing to give him.

  “You didn’t have to do that.” I rolled it over in my hands, savoring the moment and not wanting to open it.

  “I know.” He sat down next to me, his brow furrowed and little worry crinkles around his eyes as if he were anxious about me not liking his gift or some dumb-ass thing like that. I’d love a sack of dog shit if he gave it to me. “Is something wrong?”

  “I don’t have anything for you.”

  “Honey, you’ve given me the greatest gift: one of the best Christmases I can remember, awesome company, awesome sex, and an awesome dinner. What I gave you is nothing compared to that.”

  Okay, I’d go with that. Guilt abolished, I tore into the package.

  Little bits of paper flew through the air. I opened a gold-lined jewelry box and held my breath. A small silver grizzly holding a football dangled from a silver chain. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Do you really like it?” Brax studied me in earnest, as if it really mattered to him.

  “I love it. Help me put it on.”

  Brax took it from my hands. After a few fumbled attempts caused by overlarge fingers, he managed to fasten it around my neck. “I wanted you to remember our Christmas together.”

  As if I could ever forget, any more than I could forget the text message with that awful picture, but I’d be damned if it would ruin my time with Brax. At least we had one more night. I grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the bedroom.