Plus, if I’m putting them to work, which I am, I might as well give them a treat after.
I open the oven, pull out the tray, and inhale deeply. I’m almost just like a 1950s housewife. Except my ass is hanging out the back of this apron, and I’m only feeding them after they eat me.
Carefully and quietly, I put the tray on the cooling rack because I know I’m on borrowed time. Even with whatever hangovers they had working in my favor, they’ll be up soon. And it can’t be before I get ready.
Untying the apron, I toss it and the oven mitt on the counter. Before I quickly make my way back to the living room, grabbing everything I’ve gathered for my illicit apology. I laugh to myself because this plan is ridiculous, but I’ve also never smiled this hard.
“Okay, ribbon, check—” I whisper, rubbing my fingers over the material. “Thank goodness Alec’s got the big bucks and this is velvet or my ass might chafe.”
I scoop up a few more Christmas accouterments before heading to the spare bathroom, sneaking past Jace’s room, so I don’t wake him up. I flick the light, close the door, and set the things on the counter. A relaxed breath leaves my body as I run my fingers through my hair, looking up at myself in the mirror. Here goes nothing.
Oh. My thoughts stall as I stare at my nude body in the light.
I have hickeys all over my chest and breasts. I couldn’t see it all when I was first in the bathroom because I kept the lights dimmed so low to stay hidden. But now. My thoughts drift back to Cole’s voice, hearing him say, “Mark her.”
My fingers trace over the bruises before my head drops to my thigh. Jace’s teeth marks stare back at me. Fuck. My hand covers my center, the cheeks on my face reddening.
I’m pretty sure these guys are ruining sex for me. How the hell am I supposed to be like, bite me. No, for real.
Can you even put that on your dating profile?
Samantha, 32. Gemini. Dog lover. Coffee addict. Loves adventure and getting treated like jerky. Bite me, and maybe I’ll let you wife me up.
But probably not because I’ll just want to fuck all your friends at the same time.
This weekend just has to last forever. That’s the only answer.
My head shifts from side to side, looking for who had that thought. Because it wasn’t me. Can’t be. I know exactly what I signed up for, and it has an expiration date.
“Back to business,” I whisper like I’m chastising myself.
I snatch the spool of garnet ribbon off the counter before holding one end at my rib cage, leaving a bit showing as I wrap the other around my tits. Thank god they’re boring-sized, or I wouldn’t have enough ribbon.
I wrap the ribbon around four or five times before I tuck it in the middle and drag it down my body and over my junk. I’m wrapping over my hips and center, again and again, fastening myself into a red ribboned G-string. Until I come to the last bit, which I drag back up my stomach and tie in a little bow with the piece I started with.
“Are you going to hold?” I say aloud, chuckling, too scared to even spread my legs for fear I might lose a lip. “How do girls wear bathing suits like this?”
I mean, good for them. But my coochie is metaphorically sucking it in to pull jeans up. I straighten the ribbon downstairs, spreading it a bit more, laughing at myself. I’m two seconds from just rewrapping my goodies when the bathroom door swings open.
Jace’s sleepy face graces mine.
“Close your eyes!”
Jace turns around quickly, laughing as he does.
I squeal, turning in a full circle before grabbing a towel to hide behind. Embarrassed but also noting that my junk stayed intact. If ever I find myself out of work, I can most definitely get a side gig as a gift wrapper. If I can wrap my pussy, I can wrap grandma’s slippers.
“Are you a present? Or a dream?” he whispers.
I’m grinning, still hiding behind a towel.
“Both. I’m supposed to be a surprise. To make up for—”
“For nothing,” he cuts in, hand gripping the back of his neck. “It was a big day. If our girl wants sleep, she gets it. Cole technically said that first, but I still mean it.”
Why is he the best? Both hes.
I smile, teasing, “Fine, then I’ll just take this off and grab a T-shirt. Better to forget about my whole dirty plan.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Let’s not get hasty.” His head starts swirling over his shoulder, so I snap my fingers. That damn dimple shows before he turns away again, talking. “I’d never stand in the way of a dirty plan. But you should let me help. You know, since I’m awake. I could sprinkle tinsel on you…wrap you in lights. I’ll even let you tell me where to put the balls.”
He’s incorrigible.
“No. Go back to your room so I can finish. You’ll know when it’s time to come out.”
“Fine, Grinch.”
Jace doesn’t turn around as he walks back out and closes the door behind him. I’m left grinning. But the moment I relax, lowering the towel, I slap a hand back over my mouth to muffle the shriek ripping from my throat. Because he’s tearing back in and wrapping an arm around my waist as he hauls me up. Flush to him.
He stares at me before leaning in and gently biting my finger, pulling it away from my mouth.
“You made cookies,” he whispers. “I can smell ‘em.”
I nod slowly, my eyes on his.
“Keep it up, little elf, and I might ask Santa to keep you.”
I blink twice before his lips press to mine. But only for a fleeting moment because Jace drops me back to my feet and keeps his word, leaving me alone again.
My footsteps barely make a sound as I walk around the couch toward the bookshelf housing the record player. It’s a fancy one that looks vintage, but the remote next to it for the sound system gives away how current it is. Either way, it’s perfect for the vibe.
I’ve set the scene. Curated a moment for the classiest, most tis’ the season to be horny sexcapade known to man. Christmas lights are giving a warm glow against the dark outside, competing only with the fireplace, cookies are baked, sugared, and ready to be eaten—the Doughboy’s and mine. There’s champagne. And I’m wrapped in fucking ribbon.
This is perfect. They won’t know what hit ‘em.
I’m smiling as I grab the first album that looks like holiday music and place my drink on the shelf before sliding it from the sleeve. Okay, how do I work this? I have to press up on my tiptoes to put the record on the turntable as I search the front of the player for an ON button.
Where are you, little button? No sooner do I think it than I see it on the remote. Sweet.
There’s soft scratching as the record begins to swirl. And my head draws up to the ceiling realizing the music is already dialed in. Perfection. Because we’d be old and gray if I had to figure it out for this plan to take action.
I grin, immediately recognizing the song “Santa Baby” by Eartha Kit.
My hips sway as I take my glass of champagne again before I dance back to the coffee table where the other drinks wait.
Oh my god, my heart is beating so fast from excitement. Earlier today, I was nervous, but that faded because my eyes are wide open. And my body is ready.
I lift the remote control for the sound system and turn up the volume. Music fills the room in concert volume as I look side to side, waiting for them to wake up.