So much for that wet, needy feeling I had earlier.
Chapter 7
Leif
Damned hedgehogs. Who knew they could be such a cockblock?
I knew they were living in the yard. They arrived in late summer. They set up a burrow near the porch. I thought we’d created a symbiotic relationship: I leave them alone, and they supervise my yardwork, looking innocent and cute.
Running amok in my house during a blizzard was not part of the agreement. Neither was making themselves at home in my bed. I can only imagine the mess they’re going to make.
Even though they are adorable and I know deep in my bones that they would never hurt Addy—other than a scratch from their tiny claws or a nip on the finger—I’m not sure they could even break her delicate skin. Nevertheless, their rampage through the house toward her unchained something savage in me. The need to protect her, shield her from whatever evils adorable hedgehogs may unloose, is something I’ve never felt before. My job is to rescue people in perilous situations: trapped in the ocean, on mountain expeditions, a collapsed house after an avalanche. All my training is primed towards one thing: saving people.
But never ever have I felt the surge of panic and protection that I felt tonight. It was as if I transformed into a different creature, completely foreign to anything I'd ever been before. And all because of Addy. There’s no denying that even though I accidentally kidnapped her, she’s mine now. And I’ll do anything I need to in order to protect her.
None of these thoughts help to calm me down while I’m cleaning up the mess made when they ran through my legs while invading. Smashed lamp on the floor. Snowflakes. Our mugs spilled, but thankfully aren’t broken. Oh, and the dildos. So many fucking dildos spread everywhere. I have no idea how that happened, but it certainly gives the feeling that a rager of a party happening in my small living room.
Light catches my eye. Turning, I see Addy in the kitchen lighting a fresh batch of candles, making it easier to see. Her long brown hair gleams in the candle and firelight. My clothes look ridiculous on her, but the shadows accentuate her curves under the massive gray sweatpants she’s rolled up at the waist and ankles. The sight makes me forget all the drama the Quill family has caused tonight.
I’ve never understood the way women talk about men in gray sweatpants. What’s the big deal? They’re bland and comfortable. But now, seeing her in them, the way they hug the curve of her hips and ample ass, I get it. I’m practically drooling at the sight of her in them. Mine.
She’s tied a knot in the shirt I gave her, exposing the pale skin of her stomach in the candlelight. The overwhelming need to lick that smooth skin shocks me.
I have to turn away; I have to get myself under control. Turning away from her, I continue picking up the broken bits of lamp—luckily the bulb didn’t shatter.
After a few minutes of silence—except for the fire crackling—me meditating on each action as a way to calm my breath and get rid of my boner; I realize Addy is now behind me. So incredibly close. She’s swept up most of the snow and straightened the table. Now we’re down to the scattered dildos.
Standing, dildo in hand—of course it is, why can’t I think through any of this better?—she’s humming a song as she picks up more dildos. Our eyes meet, lock. There’s no turning away in embarrassment at my need and want. There’s no letting her squirm away.
Judging by the look on her face, thankfully, she doesn’t want to. Her hand is tight around the base of a thick green dildo. Her fingers don’t reach all the way around. I gulp at the sight. The look on her face is one of mischief—a slight smirk, like she knows what she wants and how to get it. The firelight dances in her eyes, making her desire seem playful and dangerous at the same time.
Of all the things she could do to torture me—without breaking eye contact with me, she flips the fake cock over in her hand. Once. Twice. I can’t help the groan that escapes me. Why does that elicit my knees feeling weak? I have no fucking clue, but it does. Maybe it’s the playful yet serious action? Her dexterity? Or just the knowledge that she’s playing with me?
I open my mouth to speak, but nothing but another groan comes out as she runs the dildo from her breastbone down to her stomach before tapping it against her thigh. I clear my throat and try again. “Thank you for your help cleaning up. Who knew the Quill family could be so disastrously messy?”
Her features freeze. “The Quill Family? Did you—did you name the hedgehogs who now live in your bed?” Both her eyebrows rise high in surprise, and her smirk transforms into asmile of delight. For her—just for her—I nod my head, admitting my yes.
That nod is life-saving; life-changing. Before my head is stilled on my shoulders, Addy takes a flying leap at me, wrapping her arms and legs around me. Dropping the damned dildo, I catch her sweet ass, clutching her to me as she presses her lips against mine.
“I knew you were a softie,” she whispers when she pulls away to catch her breath. I walk us to the sofa and sit us down, her straddling my lap.
“You like—softies?” I ask.
She purses her lips together, thinking. One hand traces my jawline from my chin to my ear, then reverses direction. It’s a light, silky touch that I never want to end. “I think so. I mean, I love your rock-hard muscles. But knowing you’ve named the hedgehog family that seems to be pure chaos? That’s panty-melting right there.”
“Oh. And are your panties melted?” I ask, trying to keep my tone conversational and failing.
“I wouldn’t know.” She pauses as she licks her lips. “I’m not wearing any.”
And that right there is when my heart exploded. “You know that sort of admission is killing me, right? Does Santa need to bring you new panties?”
“No, mine will dry. I need Santa to satisfy me in other ways.” Her voice is sultry, deep, and severs what control I thought I had left.
With a growl, I lift her off of me, set her down next to me. Grabbing the quilt on the back of the sofa, I spread it beforethe fire on the floor, then grab my pillows and place them for her. Standing back, it isn’t much in terms of a nest, but the fire should keep her warm. I look at her still holding that damned dildo, and point to the blanket. “You, come here.”
“I’m not very good at taking orders,” she says with a sly grin. I consider my options.
“I understand. But you don’t want to disturb the sleeping hedgehogs, do you?” She shakes her head no. “Then I suggest you obey.” With a shrug of one shoulder, she complies, looking coy as she sashays her hips to the blanket and sits.
