"I should have gotten you an apron," he said as a wayward pecan escaped my knife.
"One of my fans will probably send me another one I can keep here," I told him. There was that dangerous grin again.
"You want to stay here," he said slowly.
"You have a very, very nice kitchen," I told him. "And you don't even cook! It’s the height of unfairness."
He walked around the counter and there he was, back in my personal space.
"I don't know why your name is Jack Frost," I said, "because you're smoking hot."
His hands rested on my hips as he said, "I want to kiss you."
"I thought you wanted Christmas cookies."
"I do, but there's something else I want more," he said. "I want the Christmas cookie baker."
He had me pressed up against the length of his body. I could feel the bulge in his pants. We were so close that I could feel his breath cool against my lips.This is a bad idea, I thought, but the naughty elf was sitting on my shoulder, cheering me on.
I let my hands roam up his dress shirt and grabbed him by the nape of his neck and pulled him down. Our lips met in a kiss. It was long and slow, his hands caressing my back, sliding down, down to my hips and slipping under my skirt. I was wearing stockings, and they were preventing me from having what I needed, which was his hand there, stroking the hot flesh between my legs. I moaned, bucking lightly against him, pushing against the hand that pushed at my tights.
"I want to lick you like I licked the frosting off of your finger when I saw you in that outfit," he said, kissing my neck. "I need you to be wearing that the next time we fuck. But right now, I want to fuck you bent over the counter."
Well, that had escalated quickly. I pushed him off. The elf was not happy.
"Your special Christmas cookies!" I gasped. "I have to make your cookies." I was grasping at candy canes, trying to get my bearings. Jack stepped back, looking at me with one eyebrow raised.
"I can't tell whether I should be insulted or flattered," he said as I furiously finished chopping the nuts, little pieces flying everywhere like something onTheMuppet Show.
"I’m just going to finish your cookies," I repeated.
"You seem flustered," he said. "I can't imagine why."
The only guys I had been with were the future meth heads in my oma's small Midwestern town. They had always liked to think they were hot stuff with their trucks and their taxidermied deer heads, but they were nothing compared to Jack.
"You kiss like you mean business," I told him.
"Am I scaring you?"
"No."
"You're lying."
He was gazing at me from across the kitchen, his arms crossed as he leaned back against the counter.
"You're awfully smug," I told him.
He pushed off to stand close to me again, his hands sliding down my backside.
"You know," he said thoughtfully, "I think it's better this way. I think the first time I fuck you, I do want you to be in one of those sexy Christmas outfits."
"I thought you hated Christmas," I said, feeling frazzled.
He let me go, and I turned back to the cookies. I was afraid my skin was going to be too hot to make them.
24
Jack
