“You had a quiet night?”
“Quietest Christmas Eve I’ve known for years. Until… never mind. But we had these outfits spare from when we did the photoshoot for the newspaper so a few of us ended up wearing them. Probably not the best idea. If Sadie or Harry saw me then any belief they had would be gone.”
He was really close to her now. Close enough for her to grab his beard and pull it off his face completely. Which she did. Close enough for her to push the hat off his head and reach up, running her fingers through his mussed hair. Which she did.
“Rayah.”
Her name on his lips made her pause. She didn’t recognise it. When he called her it was usually to tell her something or draw her into conversation. This was different.
She felt his hands fix on her hips, his touch light but there.
“Mistletoe.” She looked into his eyes, seeing the hazel and green flecks, feeling her heart strum loudly as if it was trying to escape. “There should be mistletoe.”
Rayah Maynard had never been anything other than brave. She’d been the girl who had jumped off the highest point into the tarn, bungee jumped when her cousins had been too scared, confronted the school bully and changed policy so that girls could join whichever fucking team they chose. The man she had crushed heavily on for years was in front of her, his Santa Claus beard hanging round his neck and his hands were on her hips and if she was reading him right, kissing him now would not be a mistake.
She went to her tiptoes and lowered her hands off his hair and around his neck, pressing her lips to his. Just gently, soft enough so she could say it was just a friendly kiss, giving him the chance to disengage.
He didn’t.
Rayah shifted her head back and looked at him, wondering if he could tell her heart was racing enough to qualify her for a world record. His own beard needing trimming and she could smell smoke on him, so there had been at least one fire tonight, besides the one that was burning in her.
“Imagine there’s mistletoe.”
His words were punctuated with his lips back on hers and this time the kiss was nothing like friendly. He held her against him, her breasts pressed against his chest, the soft cotton of her Christmas pyjamas crushed against the cheap red material of his outfit. Her toes curled as his hands roamed onto her ass and then one hand moved up, under the bottom of her pyjama top, touching flesh.
The kiss slowed and she found herself being guided backwards towards the kitchen table, lifted onto it and then he stood between her legs, so she wrapped them around his waist and heard him moan so she wrapped her legs tighter, her centre aligned with his cock.
Santa trousers didn’t do much to hide the sack that he was carrying.
Then his mouth became softer, his teeth nibbling her lips, taking any form of control from her. Rayah rocked her hips against him, finding friction and trying not to think about the fact that she was pretty much shamelessly humping him, because this might be the only chance she had at ever dry-humping Jonny and she wasn’t going to pass up on that opportunity.
“Those fucking pyjamas.” He moved back and looked at her with a gaze that she felt almost stroke her skin. “They’re driving me mad.”
Rayah looked down at what she was wearing. “They’re just pyjamas. Christmas ones.”
She waited for the words that would inevitably come: that this was foolish, they had too much at stake, they were friends, little sister and so on, but instead Jonny was silent, looking intensely at the button on her top, the material too thick for him to see that her nipples were hard.
One hand was in her hair at the back of her head, gentle twining the locks around his fingers. She wondered whether he liked to be rough in bed, whether he would treat his woman as if she was made of glass of whether he’d let go. Rayah didn’t break; the only thing fragile about her was her heart.
“I know. But when you were video calling when I was in Leeds all I wanted to know was what was underneath.” His eyes were fixed on her chest.
If they weren’t in his kitchen and there was always a strong possibility of a child wandering downstairs for a drink – or to see if Santa had been – she’d have shown him there and then what she wore under her PJs. Although this scenario was not ideal if they were seen, it was explainable. Kind of.
“Nothing. I had nothing on underneath.”
His mouth covered hers, his hand slipping back under her top to just below her breasts, skimming the underside. She felt his cock grow harder and wondered why they didn’t have a lock on the kitchen door because this was getting risky.
Jonny’s thumb brushed over her nipple, skimming the sensitive skin. She gasped and he pulled back, his hand resting on her waist, still under her top.
“Footsteps.” His words were whispered. “Sadie…”
He didn’t move his hand. She did, however, release the clamp she had on him with her legs, although he didn’t shift back.
“Daddy?” Sadie’s voice came from the doorway.
The only light was the lamp in the sitting room; the kitchen had been in darkness, apart from the low glow. Rayah’s heart was racing now for a completely different reason.
“You should be in bed, Sadie.”
