Just like that, my words, combined with the rhythm of my fingers on her clit, have her back arching, and she comes, her legs quaking with orgasm. She bites down on my fingers as she rides out her orgasm until her legs actually give out, and I catch her by the waist with a satisfied smile.
She sags against me, her head resting on my shoulder as she tries to catch her breath, sated and sleepy, a blissful smile on her lips.
I press my lips to her head and start to help her with her pants. When we get to the sweater, she tries to pull it over her head, and I stop her.
“Not a chance, Snowflake. I won fair and square. Looks like you’re going to be lit all day with that sweater on.”
“This is exactly what I needed.” Emma sighs, taking another sip of her hot chocolate with extra marshmallows, of course. Another thing I learned about her is that if there are sweets involved… she’s doubling down. No matter what it is.
“Wanna sit for a minute? Skate time isn’t for another…” I glance down at my watch to check the time. “Thirty minutes.”
She nods, and we walk to a table next to the rink that has one of those large commercial heaters above it. While it doesn’t completely take the chill away, it’s enough to be comfortable and for my fingers to thaw slightly.
When she tries to sit across the table from me, I tug her hand and pull her down onto the seat next to me.
“Sorry, Snowflake. It’s cold as hell, and I need all the body heat I can get.”
After I just ate her like a starving man in that dressing room, the last thing I want to do is sit across from her at a damn table.
“Soo… What’s your favorite Christmas candy?” I ask her, scooting slightly closer and tossing my arm casually over the back of the bench.
She drags her fingers along the rim of her hot chocolate for a few seconds before she speaks. “Definitely peppermint bark.”
“Peppermint what?”
“You’ve never had peppermint bark? Oh my God. It’s basically the only Christmas treat my mom made growing up, and it’s one of my favorites. You take crushed-up peppermints and mix them with white chocolate almond bark, and it’s divine. I’m pretty sure it’s where my love for sweets started.”
“I’ll take your word for it. Maybe you can make it for me one day?”
Emma nods. “What about you? What’s your favorite?”
“I’m a peanut butter ball kinda guy. My mom makes the best Christmas treats. I always joke that I gain at least fifteen pounds during the holidays because every time I leave her house, I leave with more Tupperware than I can even carry.” I laugh. “That’s how she is though. We’re all grown, and she still cooks us dinner, comes over and does our laundry. Anything to feel close to us, even if we tell her again and again she doesn’t have to do any of that stuff. She’s the one who plans all of our Christmas festivities. That’s why I took on the annual party; she already has enough going on.”
Her eyes are soft, and her words are genuine when she says, “She sounds wonderful, Jackson.”
“Yeah, she is.” I take a sip of my drink. “She’s the glue that holds our family together, for sure. So tell me about your family. I, uh, I don’t know much about them besides what I’ve heard throughout the years, and I’d like to hear about them from you.”
She blows out a breath before shrugging. “My parents are… very career focused and driven. My dad is an investment banker, and my mom is very into philanthropy. Listening to you talk about your mom and your family… it sounds so different from the way that I grew up. We didn’t really have Christmas traditions. I mean, aside from opening presents on Christmas Day and the annual party, there wasn’t ever anything that stood out from childhood. We never made cookies or watched the Christmas classics. My parents were just really busy growing up, and I was with my nanny a lot. That’s why the party is so important to them—it’s the one thing that we really celebrated together. It was always our tradition, and we looked forward to it each year.”
I love everything about Christmas with my family, and I hate that she didn’t get to do all of those things with hers. But I’m also starting to understand exactly why the party is so important to her and her family. It’s their most important tradition.
My gaze softens. “I’m sorry, Emma.”
“No, no. You don’t have to do that, Jackson. Listen, my parents are wonderful people, and they always provided whatever they could for me. It’s just that hearing about your family and your traditions makes me wish that we were able to make more traditions for us. Now, looking back on it as an adult, I feel like while most kids were having snowball fights and building snowmen, I was helping my mom with a party.” She laughs. “Completely different Christmas traditions.”
“I get it, and I think that just means that you have way more things to experience now. Tell me, have you seen The Santa Clause?”
The space between her brow wrinkles as she furrows it. “Is that a movie, or are you talking about the big guy in the red suit?”
“Um, yes. An iconic fucking movie, Snowflake. We’ve got to rectify this immediately.”
She chuckles. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure there are more movies that I haven’t seen versus ones that I have.”
Reaching out, I slide my palm along hers and lace our fingers together, squeezing gently. “Don’t worry, Snowflake. We’ll make sure you have some new traditions to add to your list.”
12
emma
Winter Wonderland
Jackson Pearce is undeniably hot.
One look at him, and that much is obvious. Attractive in the way that has your heart hammering in your chest at the very first glance. He’s tall and fit with a sharp jaw, warm honey eyes, and a smile that could melt just about anything.
It’s part of the reason why staying away from him was so hard in the first place… despite our families’ history.
But it’s a whole different thing to know that under all of that extremely attractive exterior, he’s got a heart to match it.
Something I never expected and never knew until recently. I was perfectly fine having lived my life with all of these assumptions and preconceived notions about him. That he was this frustrating nuisance who just liked to annoy me because of our feuding parties. I was fine hating him because it was what was expected of me.
Until he made it impossible to.
And I don’t exactly know what to do with all of these new feelings.
“Admit it, you’re having fun.” I poke his side as we skate slowly around the rink. Kids are whipping by us at every turn, but I’d like to leave the city without having to visit the ER first, so we’re keeping an unhurried pace.
“Only if you admit that wearing ugly sweaters isn’t all that bad,” he retorts with a smirk.
Exhaling, I roll my eyes playfully. “They’re not that bad. Well, I mean, yours is absolutely horrific, but still.”
His fingers press into my sides unexpectedly, tickling me until I’m breathless and unable to stay on my feet on the slick ice. He sweeps me into his arms to keep me from falling and presses me against the side of the rink.