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“Don’t stop,” she begged. “I want to come again. Please .”
He grinned devilishly. He had her right where he wanted her. Begging for him. Needing him. Wasn’t this what he always fantasized about? Having this kind of power over her again? Wasn’t this exactly what he had dreamed about on those hot nights in the desert? That Cami Addison would come crawling back and beg to be in his bed? That he’d fuck her and toss her out the next morning? Wasn’t this the dream ?
“Evan,” she whispered. “Please let me come. Please .”
She brought him back to reality. The sweat dripped down his chest. His cock was growing harder and his spine was twitching. How was he going to hold off? He wanted to come when she came. He wanted to fill her with his seed. He wanted her to wake up in the morning filled with his come inside her .
“Come with me, baby,” he coaxed .
She nodded, panting his name. Her hips moved in perfect rhythm as he pumped in and out of her. Racing faster and faster toward the finish line. His heart thudded and his ribs felt like they could split open if he didn’t explode now .
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” he growled as he shot fireworks deep in her center, spilling every drop he had while she writhed under him .
“Oh,” she whispered, clinging to him .
He kissed her slowly and collapsed against her breast. Her tits were still hard .
He didn’t know when, but sometime during the night he fell asleep just like that, buried inside the love of his life .
* * *
T he next morning Evan walked into City Hall. The town cleanup crew had canvassed the square. There wasn’t a single paper cup or stray marshmallow on the lawn. No one would ever know there was a town celebration last night. There was grass where the cocoa and cider tents had been. The stage was broken down and the speakers were packed up .
“Good morning, sir.” Georgia greeted him with a cup of coffee. “Beautiful tree lighting last night, wasn’t it ?”
He grumbled, taking the cup. Today’s mug had a big red Santa on the front, followed by the words Ho Ho Ho on the back. Was she fucking serious ?
“And having Cami sing again.” Georgia sighed. “She has the voice of an angel. Don’t you think? I just wish her aunt had been here to see it. She would have been so proud of her .”
Evan ignored her, and read the stack of messages and the emails Georgia had transcribed on sticky notes .
“Would she ?”
Georgia’s mouth dropped. “Of course she would. That child has been through a lot. And she’s home now. That’s what matters. She came home .”
Evan shook his head and walked into his office .
Georgia called after him, “The mistletoe shoot is tomorrow .”
“Yes. I know .”
“I wonder if Cami knows about it .”
Evan looked up from his stack of messages. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter .”
Her heard her exasperated hmph from the other side of the divider. He didn’t have to see her to know she was fiddling with her glasses and trying to scroll through something on her computer screen .
He had a feeling that’s how the rest of the season was going to go. Whatever the occasion was, the town matchmakers were going to try to find ways to pair him and Cami together. And it was a long season between now and Christmas. It wasn’t as if he could get out of his responsibilities. As mayor, he was obligated to attend all the official Harpers Point functions. Too bad he couldn’t catch Mellie Miller’s strep throat .
Fucking her last night was a mistake. He had taken it too far. He never should have kissed Cami like that. He shouldn’t have tasted her lips. He never should have buried himself inside her sweet pussy. He woke up with the sting of cinnamon still on his tongue. And there was a problem with that. He was addicted to cinnamon. Especially, Cami-flavored cinnamon .
Nine
Cami
I t was hard to concentrate, but she had work to do. Cami broke off a corner of the first batch of fudge. She touched it to the tip of her tongue, waiting for the chocolate to melt in her mouth like buttery sugar .
She closed her eyes. It was good, but not as good as Aunt Sophie’s. She pushed the giant tray aside and started stacking the ingredients to try another batch. She had read the recipe repeatedly, and though she had measured everything precisely, something was off. It definitely didn’t taste like the fudge her aunt sold at the shop .
