Page 28 of Dumped for a Christmas Tree Farmer

“I know, but if you like, I can list all the things I’m going to do to you.”

“I’m not sure their argument will last long enough.”

“Who says I’ll stop when they do?” He bites down again, and my head falls back onto his shoulder. Damn, that feels so good. His arms wrap around me, one lifting my sweater until he finds the button of my jeans, flicking it open with a concerning amount of ease. He pulls the zipper down, his other hand pushing down over my panties. When he grazes against my clit, I buck against him, twitching as I feel myself throb.

“Lift,” he demands. And because I’m desperate, I do. As soon as my hips are an inch off the seat, he roughly tugs down my jeans, forcing me to stand. He takes a bite of my ass, slapping it before pushing me back down.

I huff out an unsteady breath, keeping my view on the screen, clenching my trembling hand into a fist.

“Do you even know how to make a croissant?” James asks, his voice teeming with frustration.

“Yes, I know how to make a croissant, James. Do you know how to do anything other than chop wood?”

Mav’s fingers slide down my panties, and I hate to admit that I’m soaked already. I spread my legs apart, giving him better access as his middle finger slips through my wetness and dips into me. A harsh hiss escapes through Mav’s teeth as he bites and pulls at my earlobe.

“Watch them start to hate each other. Watch their incompatibility. You’re so wet already. You love this, don’t you?” he whispers.

He slides in again, and I can hear the wetness soaking him as he pushes in a second finger, the heel of his palm rubbing against my swollen clit. Electricity bounces through my bloodstream. The warmth pulses through me; even in this old, empty office with no heat, I’m hot. Sweat builds at the base of my neck as he curls his fingers, stroking me.

“I do more than chop wood, and you know it,” James spits.

“He doesn’t, though, does he, sweetheart? Mav breathes. “The man can’t even fix a shower. But you can. How does it feel to be more competent than him?” His fingers grip the fleshy pad of my G-spot roughly, his fingers hooking and holding me in place. I try to buck against him, but his grip is unrelenting. “How does it feel to be better than him in every way imaginable? He’s going to rue the day he ever thought of letting you go.” His palm circles me, the pressure building in my lower belly, light as a feather at first, but the scales start to shift: the longer he strokes, the heavier the weight feels.

“Let’s face it, Holly, you’ve had things done for you your entire life. You don’t know how to bake a croissant because you’ve always had someone do it for you.”

“Are you gonna come, Indy? Are you gonna come as they fall apart right in front of you? Are you gonna get off on them breaking up?”

God, the sound of both of them in opposite ears. It’s like Mav is the devil on my shoulder urging me to succumb to the dark side. A promise of pleasure and hedonism. And all I have to do is nod and spread my legs. A whimpered moan escapes my lips, and I feel myself clench. I grip the back of his neck, keeping his lips just under my ear, his husky voice licking down my spine.

“Yeah, you are, sweetheart. You might not understand it, but you love watching this.” His words ring true, but it’s not the whole truth. I am enjoying watching them struggle. I am enjoying watching them fall apart so easily, especially because James dumped me two seconds after Holly came back to town. But mostly I’m enjoying Mav whispering depraved filth in my ear. I’m enjoying his thick fingers working me like he studied for it. I’m enjoying the heel of his palm pushing hard against my clit, making my eyes roll to the back of my head.

His other hand snakes up my sweater, pulling the cup of my bra down roughly until he pinches my nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling the peak until I’m panting. I’m seconds away from release, and Mav knows it. His fingers stroke in a perfect pattern as he licks up my neck. One bite and I’ll be there.

“Just leave James. I can do this by myself.” Holly sulks.

“Great, and maybe I’ll go find Indy. She never talked to me like this,” James shouts before pushing his way past.

Mav bites down on my neck, and I detonate. Wave after wave of hot heat floods my pussy, his fingers stroking out every second of my orgasm. His chest against my back, he holds me tight before pulling me into his lap as he kicks my chair away.

“Fuck you, James. You wouldn’t know hard work if it hit you in the ass,” Holly shouts back.

Mav grunts against my neck, jagged thrusts as he rubs me up and down against his . . . Oh, holy hell. The size of him, attempting to bury itself deep between my cheeks. His fingers pulse as I lift my foot onto the desk, pushing back into him.

James leaves the kitchen, and Holly slams the door behind him. As soon as the sound of the door reverberates, Mav groans into my ear, maneuvering my body so I’m rolling my ass over his length, over and over. He shudders. Did he just . . . No, surely not. He could not have just come in his pants right now. My inner walls pulse around his fingers at the thought until he pulls them out delicately, circling my clit a few times before he slips them out of my panties.

“Open.”

I turn to face him, his eyes lust-filled, all color of the deep brown I’d seen before gone. They’re so dark they’re almost black, framed with dark lashes that are dipped low. My lips part, and he pushes his fingers between them, the sweet, tangy taste of me coating my tongue. He keeps his other fingers on my nipple and twists the aching peak until I bite down on his fingers. A flash of something unhinged has me licking between his fingers, collecting every drop of myself on him until I scrape my teeth along the padded flesh and let them pop off my lips.

“Such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

I whimper, twisting my head to the side to kiss him, but he pulls back, dipping his chin so only our foreheads are touching. His eyes close for a brief second as I study the pinch of his mouth.

My racing heart skips a beat, and a pang of annoyance replaces the warmth down my spine. Am I a terrible kisser? Why the hell doesn't he want to kiss me again? I lift off his lap, pulling up my jeans and hastily doing up the button. What the hell am I doing here? Letting some guy I met four days ago get me off as we watch our exes lose their shit? What is wrong with me? Am I that starved for love and affection that I’ll take it from a guy who won’t even kiss me? James would at least kiss me afterward. Sure, it was in private and not for anyone to see, but that’s a low baseline for human affection. For someone you’re getting off with, you at least kiss them.

I grab my purse, put on my hat and gloves silently, stewing with resentment. Resentment that he has the audacity to tell me what I like, and the audacity for him to be completely right. I’ve never come so hard in my life. And he might think it’s to do with watching Holly and James getting a taste of their own medicine, but it’s not. It’s him.

He rubs his stubble with the same hand he used to get off, watching me intently as I ready myself for the cold winter air.