My ass burns from the sting, but it’s my core that’s on fire. With my pounding heart, I lift the mistletoe between us. “I want your mouth. It’s tradition.”
He bends to kiss me, but I press my hand flat against his chest. “I want your mouth…” I lift the fabric of my skirt and tap my sensitive flesh with my nail. “Here, Chiefy.”
His lips curl into a sinister grin. “I’ve never heard of this mistletoe pussy kissing tradition.”
“Well, maybe we should start our own.” I suck in a breath as his hot lips kiss my skin, his mouth like heaven, warm and syrupy, now slick with my arousal. I fist his hair, grinding mypussy against him, my other hand still holding the mistletoe. “Chief.”
My head lolls back, my bones turning to jelly as this man does things with his tongue that I never knew possible.
He glances up with hooded eyes, his tongue still flicking my clit. “You can put the mistletoe down, baby. You don’t need the mistletoe to get me to eat you out.” His finger dips into my heat, stroking me there while he goes back to licking and sucking on my clit.
A moan escapes my lips, and I glance up at the spotlights in the ceiling like stars shimmering in the night sky.
Flint groans against my clit, sending a wave of vibrations through my core, and the lights above me burst into a kaleidoscope of colours. Heat rolls through me. My legs shake as wave after wave of pleasure washes over me, but he doesn’t stop. He groans again, his finger curling inside me, and I clench around him.
“That’s it firecracker. Give me your orgasm.” He removes his finger and licks up my arousal, the mistletoe forgotten on the desk as I lie limp on his papers, boneless.
He blocks out the light as he hovers over me, kissing my lips, letting me taste myself on his tongue. We’re breathless, a tangle of tongues and teeth, and I widen my legs for him as I reach for his belt.
His hand grips my wrist. “I can wait, sweetheart. You’re probably still sore from last night.” His forehead rests against mine. “You still think I’m embarrassed by you?” His thumb strokes my cheek. “I’d burn down the whole damn town if anyone touches you, looks at you. You’re mine.”
My breath catches. “Then why does it feel like you’re hiding me?”
“Because until I’ve had that talk with my son, I need this to stay between us. Not because I’m ashamed. Because I owe him the truth first.”
I search his face, every line, and every flicker of emotion behind his stormy eyes, and even though part of me still aches, I know he’s telling the truth.
“All right,” I whisper. “But for the record, Chiefy, you suck at pretending you don’t like me.”
That earns the faintest twitch of a smile. “You’re not exactly subtle yourself, firecracker.”
He leans down again, his voice brushing my lips. “Now get out there before my crew start placing bets on whether you’re still alive.”
I hop off the desk, my head dizzy as I search for my panties.
Flint spanks me again, lighter this time. “And roll that damn skirt down. You’ll give Bear a heart attack if you bend over.”
I pull on my panties and tug the skirt down with a giggle, then grab my sweater before I open the office door, trying to look like I haven’t just been thoroughly kissed, spanked, and devoured on the chief’s desk.
As I walk into the dayroom, the guys all go quiet. Too quiet.
Hollywood leans back in his chair, cookie halfway to his mouth. “Everything all right back there, Chief?”
Flint’s voice rumbles behind me. “Peachy.”
Drake smirks. “Thought you’d snuck out through the window and bunked off early.”
I bite back a smile, cheeks burning as I grab my coat. “I’ll just… see myself out.”
“Bring more cookies next time!” Hollywood calls.
Bear chuckles. “Chiefy likes the ones with the sprinkles.”
Flint growls, but there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes. “You lot just volunteered for truck checks.”
Phoenix snorts. “Come on, Chief, you can’t still be grumpy.”
“Someone get the man a frosted cookie,” Drake shouts.
