I’m finding it difficult to pay attention to the movie.The Mistletoe Incidentis a cute rom-com, but the cookie-cutter male lead isn’t doing much for me. He certainly isn’t more captivating than the men I’m already cuddling with.
I’m not sure how Cato contorted himself like this, but his cheek is pressed against mine, bare chest hot on my arm. He’s squeezed so close, I’m smushed against Henri on my other side.
Their scents dance around me, sweet and spicy, comforting and titillating all at once. I’m so keyed up I’m barely able to eat my movie snacks.
Henri shifts, and I think he’s going to put some space between us. I breathe a sigh of relief. I need a respite before their muscles get to me and I do something stupid.
Except Henri puts his arm across the back of the couch, tucking me into his side.
We’re only twenty minutes into the movie, and I’m at risk of tossing off my panties.
I can’t keep my eyes on the screen anymore. My gaze strays to Charm lounging on the floor, one knee propped up and legs spread. The light from the TV reflects on his blonde hair, making it look red or blue or green.
It would be so easy to drop to thefloor and crawl between his legs. And then I’d make quick work of unbuttoning him and?—
I close my eyes as if that will cut off the mental image. I need to calm down before they notice I’m panting over them.
But when I open my eyes, the traitorous things stray to Magnus. The chair he’s sitting in is huge (it could fit three of me), but he makes it look small. When he came downstairs after changing earlier, I almost choked on my tongue seeing him in sweatpants. Unlike Cato, he still has a shirt on, but neither article of clothing leave much to the imagination with how tight they are.
Henri said we should do a cozy movie night and wear lounge clothes, and I foolishly agreed. If I’d thought about it, I would have realized that seeing the rest of my bosses in sweatpants would be bad for my self-control.
With every step Magnus took, I could seeit. Even standing still, I could seeithanging there. There’s no hiding that thing with clingy pants.
Apparently when he wears sturdier pants,itblends in with the muscles on his legs. But now I know that bulge is all cock, I feel like my eyes are going to be drawn right to it no matter what he’s wearing.
You can’t blame the movie for not holding my attention under these circumstances.
I’m clutching my plate so hard my hands are cramping, but it’s better than letting them roam. Who knows whose pants they’d try to get into.
Maybe if I chew on some food, that will distract me from other hungry thoughts.
I pick up a piece of something, popcorn maybe, but drop it in surprise when Cato touches my leg.
When I don’t push him away, he slides his hand up until he’s rubbing my inner thigh.
I peek at Cato out of the corner of my eye, trying not to let on to the others. He’s smirking at me, and I narrow my eyes at him, but he doesn’t stop. His fingers just keep rubbing small circles, the same kind of motion you’d use on another, more sensitive place.
He doesn’t go any further, just tempting me with what hecoulddo if he shifted his hand a few inches.
I should stop him.
I should have pushed him away earlier, cuddling on the couch is already past platonic teammate behavior.
I always second-guess myself with him though. Cato is so attractive and charismatic, why would he need to hit on me when he could have anyone? Especially now, when we’re on vacation. He could be out there in bars or clubs, or even just wandering around town, and he’d find tons of willing partners.
Cato doesn’t need plain old me, a subordinate he’s not supposed to sleep with anyway.
So surely he’snothitting on me when he teases me and sits close to me and touches me.
Except, as Cato’s fingers brush my mound, I can’t keep denying his interest.
It was only a brief touch, his hand is already back on my thigh, but I know it was on purpose.
Should I move his hand to where I really want it? Is he waiting for me to make the next move?
This is insane. I’m considering having my boss finger me while we’re surrounded by myotherbosses, his packmates.
Would we keep it a secret? Or would the others join in?
