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His stubble rubs against my temple, and I reach up to wrap my hands around his face, holding him steady so that we just stare at one another.
“You shouldn’t feel this fucking good,” he moans.
“Neither should you.”
His jaw hardens. He removes my hands from around him and then forces me back into all fours where he starts to fuck me hard and fast. The wet slaps of our bodies coming together fills my ears. My breasts jiggle in front of me as I hold onto the side of the tub, white knuckling it as all the pleasure pressurizes inside of me.
It’s almost too much to take all at once. I barrel forward, but I’m scared too. All the emotion, every overwhelming pinpoint of pleasure. “You’re okay,” he says, as if he can read the scared look on my face. “I’ve got you.”
“I’m—” I pant, unable to say it in words.
“I know. You’re taking me so good, Baby Girl. So fucking good,” he says, strained.
There’s only one obvious place this is going, but the feeling is too consuming. “I—” I cry out, loud this time. I’ve never felt such a tornado of pleasure before. He’s consuming me. That’s what this is.
Reaching around, he places his hand over my mouth just as I scream out my orgasm. He only mutes the unintelligible sounds and moans pouring from me without thought or care. He just keeps driving me higher and higher until there’s a hitch in his rhythm.
He stutters, then pulls out of me while I fall forward against the tub.
Holy shit.
I don’t even recognize the girl staring back at me in the mirror. She’s freshly fucked and smirking, still riding the high of aftershocks as I peer at the sexy-as-sin man behind me.
That’s all this is. Just one big sin.
twelve
While I servedinner to the Williams’ who seem in a much better mood than this morning, Cam brings down the Christmas decorations. I refuse to set foot in that third-story dungeon again. I chat with them for a little while, asking about their day around town. They hold hands over the table, and the whole scene makes everything seem so special. They’re sitting closest to the fireplace, candles that I found burning between them, and I’m not trying to toot my own horn, but maybe I’m exceptionally good at this hospitality thing.
I pick at leftovers in the kitchen as Cam comes in, dusting his hands off. Pointing toward a full plate, I tell him to grab a seat. He does so, immediately eating. It’s no wonder that he’s starved, we certainly worked ourselves up an appetite earlier.
“I made a grocery list,” I tell him. “You have enough food here for a few days for the number of guests expected, but we’ll need some more soon. Plus, we still need everything for Christmas dinner.”
He peers up at me, brows furrowed.
I shrug. “I looked through your reservation log. You know, you should probably go digital. Maybe even set up an online reservation system through your website. I knowIhate talking to people on the phone. I bet your reservations would increase.”
“What makes you think we have a website?” he asks, stuffing his face with a forkful of macaroni and cheese.
“Well, I’d start there then.”
His fingers flex around the fork. I can feel the tension in the air thicken, but I’m really not in the mood to fight with him, so I try to head it off. “Of course, you can do whatever you want. It’s your inn.”
I put my dish in the sink, and then head out to tackle the Christmas decorations. First, I assess what’s in each box and then put them into two stacks. One for outside decorations, and one for inside. Since this place could use some Christmas cheer, I start with the interior first.
Mr. and Mrs. Williams are still in the dining room, so I quickly run up to their room with a few things. The door isn’t locked, which I’m not surprised about, so I put the small tree up on their mantle, and then a string of garland to frame out the fireplace. It’s not much, but it’s enough. When I turn, however, I notice their bed hasn’t been made, so I quickly fluff up the pillows and make their bed, throwing the patchwork pillows on last. Then I go around, straightening the room, just like housekeeping staff does at the hotels I’ve stayed at in the past. With one last check, I call the room good before going back to my duty.
I start in the sitting room where the largest fireplace is. I frame it out with green garland, attaching little red bows every so often. Finding Santa statues and reindeer, I set those out first. Then, there’s a sleeping Santa that when you turn it on, it snores to the tempo of Jingle Bells. While I work, I put holiday music on my Pandora station and go with it. By the time I’m finished, it looks like Christmas threw up in this room, and it’s also almost eleven p.m.
The only thing missing is a Christmas tree. And since there wasn’t one to be found in the attic, I’m guessing they get a real one. If I close my eyes, I can almost smell the pine scent of Christmases past.
The door nudges open, and I peer over my shoulder to find Cam in the mouth of the doorway. His gaze roams around the room. “Jesus.”
“No, couldn’t find one of those,” I retort.
“There’s that mouth again.”
“It never stops,” I tell him. “It’s attached to my face.”
