Page 33 of The Mistletoe Mix-up

“Obviously not since I’m sitting across from you and not in jail on a manslaughter charge,” she said, smirking, “but he was a scrawny guy, who swore he wanted me to sit on his face. And when I did, he apparently hadn’t taken into account how thick my thighs were and couldn’t breathe. But his tongue kept doing this incredible thing, and I didn’t realize when he was gripping my thighs, he was screaming for help.”

Sam guffawed, his eyes watering. He wiped at them, trying to get his laughter under control. “Holy shit, that is crazy. When did you realize he was in danger?”

“Um, after I orgasmed, I realized his tongue had stopped moving.”

“Jesus, you’re a regular manslayer.” Maybe it was cockiness on his part, but Sam was positive he could handle Wren sitting on his face. In fact, he’d love the fuck out of it.

“At least you got yours, right?” Sam asked.

“He got his, too, eventually”—the mischievous look in Wren’s eyes captivated him—“but it took him a moment to recover.”

“Alright, I think that’s all I want to hear on that subject.” Although the story was funny, the fact that another man had gotten his rocks off with Wren left a nasty taste in his mouth. He set his fork aside, done with his dinner.

“Oh, come on,” she cajoled playfully, “you’re Mistletoe’s Casanova. I’m sure you’ve got some more great stories to tell.”

“Not compared to attempted homicide,” Sam said, wanting to shift the topic to something less titillating, especially on Wren’s end. Thinking about her naked and writhing on top of him, his tongue tasting her pussy was creating an issue, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stand up. “Most of my stories are boring.”

“So? I still want to hear them.”

“Fine.” Sam sighed, pulling out one of his least favorite stories, but maybe Wren would get a kick out of it. “I’ll tell you about the time I was handcuffed and left in a woman’s apartment until I was able to get Siri to call Clark to come rescue me.”

Wren slapped a hand over her mouth, her question coming out muffled. “Why did she kidnap you?”

“We’d been hot and heavy for a few weeks, but the relationship had run its course. I told her it was time to call it. She seemed fine, even said we should get together one last time—”

Wren dropped her hand, revealing her mouth twisted in disgust. “And you, being a man, thinking with your dick, thought, “‘Oh yeah, this is gonna be great?’ ”

“Whoa, no need to be judgy, Miss Waited Until She Came Before Checking on Her Partner.”

“Valid point, continue,” she said magnanimously.

“Anyway, I fell for it, and it didn’t end well for me.”

“It could have ended worse. She could have hobbled you.”

Sam reeled back in horror. “Jesus, that’s dark.”

“It’s Misery. The book by Stephen King.”

Sam shook his head. “Never read it. Your turn.”

“Another funny sex story? Hmmm, have you heard of Badge Bunnies?”

“No?” Sam noticed her plate had been pushed aside, her attention completely focused on their conversation topic. Should he be scared she seemed to be soaking in all these sexual misadventures with gusto?

“It’s usually women chasing male police officers, but I was lucky enough to meet a dude who loved female cops. I didn’t realize this at first and thought he actually liked me. The first time we’re about to have sex, he wanted me to wear my uniform while I’m going down on him, and I said, ‘Okay, fine, whatever.’ Then he starts talking all this shit, like, ‘Oh, you’re not so tough when you’re on your knees, baby.’”

Fury shot through Sam like a torpedo, sending shock waves through his nerve endings. “What the fuck?”

“Oh yeah. It got worse, so I stopped and said, ‘What did you just say?’ He spluttered and stammered, saying it was all role-play, but by then I was pissed.”

Sam realized his hands were so tightly fisted, his nails were digging into his palms. “I hope you left him hurting.”

“Not quite. Instead of leaving him with the worst set of blue balls, I decided to let him finish. The minute he got close, I pushed his dick up, and he got a face full of his own come.” Wren shook her head, chuckling. “I got up while he was still cleaning gunk out of his eyes, told him I never wanted to see him again, and left.”

Sam sat back in complete awe, his fists relaxing. “You’re tougher than me. I would have decked his ass first.”

“No way. I’m not losing my job over some insecure douche with small-dick syndrome.” She scoffed before adding, “Your turn.”