A Very Dirty Christmas Read online

  "So what's it going to look like to anyone who sees the golf cart just roaming around back here?" she asks.

  "Like one of the groundskeepers is doing work."

  "At night."

  I shrug. "No one will give it a second thought," I say.

  Delaney glances over at me. "My father was right," she says. "You're trouble. You definitely need a babysitter."

  "I do. Will you wear a plaid skirt?"

  Delaney laughs. "That's schoolgirl, not babysitter."

  "Ooh. Schoolgirl then, even better. What do babysitters wear?" I ask, pulling the golf cart up to where I want to take her. We're parked on a hill on the far end of the developed part of the property next to a pond that's stocked for fishing – man-made, I think -- and overlooking the garden, which just tonight became my new favorite place. Well, it's a close second to the sunroom.

  "Mine wore jeans and a t-shirt. Nothing sexy," she says. "Sorry to disappoint. Didn't you ever have a babysitter?"

  "I had a nanny," I say. "German. Not very pleasant."

  "Was Anja around a lot when you were a kid?" she asks.

  "Nah," I say, shrugging. "Which is probably for the best. She's not really the most motherly person there ever was."

  Delaney is silent for a minute. "It looks so pretty from afar," she says, looking at the party from our vantage point in the distance, where the white lights glitter against the backdrop of the tents.

  "Yeah, it's when you have to actually go down there and interact with everyone that it's not as pretty," I say. That came out a lot more bitter-sounding than I intended.

  Delaney tucks her hair behind her ear and looks at me. "Are you happy?" she asks. "I don't mean, like are you happy with you and I or whatever. I mean it more generally."

  "What the hell, Delaney? That's an uncomfortable fucking question."

  "You think?" she asks. "It shouldn't be, right? It should be easy."

  "I don't know," I say. It's not easy. It's the least easy question ever. "Are you happy?"

  She studies me for a second, and I swear to God my heart stops. Like, full on stops. I don't know why I care so much what her answer to that question is, but it suddenly seems like the most meaningful second of waiting in the world.

  Then she breaks into the biggest damn smile I've ever seen, and she's absolutely fucking radiant. "Yeah," she says. "Right now I am."

  I stare at her stupidly, and before I can say anything, she presses her soft lips to mine. The kiss is tentative and hesitant, just like the way she first kissed me four years ago. And I'm instantly transported to feeling eighteen and head over heels for Delaney.

  She kisses me the way no one ever had before and no one has since, and the chemistry is so intense it's a fucking explosion, fireworks on the Fourth of July.

  And I mean that literally.

  Both of us jump at the explosion, and Delaney giggles. "Oh my God, that scared me," she says.

  Then she puts her hand in mine, and for a minute, we just sit there watching the fireworks together, and I think that my fucking heart is going to explode.

  The fireworks are still going when she climbs on top of me and kisses me, her hair falling down around my face. I slip the straps of her dress from her shoulders, followed by her bra, and look at her, silhouetted against the background of the party and the fireworks.

  I'm suddenly struck by how much everything with Delaney feels right. She feels like coming home.

  She pauses, looking at me. "What?" she whispers. "You look weird."

  "Fuck you, too," I say, my thumb sliding over her hard nipple.

  She swats my arm. "I mean, you have a weird expression," she says softly, kissing me again.

  I put my hands on both sides of her face and take her in. "It's nothing," I say. "I could just get used to looking at you like this."

  Delaney doesn't say anything, just blushes her response before kissing me again. Her tongue finds mine, and she moans against me, sliding her hand down to my waistband, where she fumbles with the button on my pants before gripping the lapels of my jacket. "I want this off," she says, her voice breathy. "Take this off. I want you inside me."

  That's what I've been waiting to hear. It's not everything, but it's enough. I strip off my jacket and toss it on the seat beside her, and then her hands are on my waistband, unzipping my pants before I even have the chance. When she grasps my cock, she sighs.

  She fucking sighs.

  Like she's been waiting for it.

  Just when I think I have a handle on Delaney, she goes and changes everything.

  I reach between her legs and confirm her desire. "You're still wet," I say.

  "I told you."

  Delaney doesn't even wait for me to put on the condom; she grabs it from my hand as soon as I rip open the wrapper, and rolls it onto my length, her eyes never leaving mine. "No more foreplay," she orders. Flashing me a wicked grin, she turns around and flips up her skirt, then impales herself on my cock, gliding onto my length in one single movement, before settling back against me.

  I hold her tight, caressing her breasts as I rock slowly inside her. The fact that I'm filling her up to the hilt, my balls pressed against her, out here in the middle of her father's estate, is enough to leave me throbbing. But then Delaney starts to ride me, slowly and rhythmically, and I'm brought nearly to the brink.

  "Oh, God, Gaige," she moans. "Just like that."

  "No more foreplay," I say as I fuck her. But I don't mean the actual physical act of foreplay. I mean the bickering and fighting, the back-and-forth between Delaney and I.

  "No," she gasps. "Just fuck me."

  I thrust deeper inside her and she rides me, grinding harder against me as she starts to lose control. She brings me closer and closer and I pull her head back by gripping a handful of hair. "No more messing around, Delaney," I warn.

  "Oh God, Gaige," she gasps. "I'm so close."

  "No. More. Of. This. One. Night. Stand. Bullshit." I punctuate each word with a thrust and a yank of her hair. "You and I are fucking."

  "Yes," she moans.

  "You wait to come until I say you can come," I say. Fuck, I'm going to have a hard time waiting. I press more firmly on her clit to torture her a little more. "Do you understand me?"

  "Gaige, please."

  "Is that a yes?" I ask. "You belong to me. All of you is mine."

  "Yes, yes, yes," she cries out.

  "Come for me," I growl into her ear, and her muscles squeeze my cock before I even finish the sentence. My balls clench and I let go, filling her up, my hands on her hips, pushing her down hard on my cock. When she screams, I push my fingers in her mouth and she sucks on them, muting her cries.

  I'm so caught up in the moment that I don't even register at first that she's slapping me on the arm. "What, baby?"

  "Gaige!" she yells. "We're fucking moving."

  "Fuck, yeah, we are." My eyes are closed and I have my head buried in her neck, and I'm breathing in her scent, this mixture of sex and summertime that I want to imprint on my brain so I can remember it forever.

  "Shit, no, Gaige! We're actually moving! Backwards!" she yells.

  I open my eyes, and realized we are rolling backwards, in fact. Rapidly.

  Down the hill.

  Toward the motherfucking pond.

  I fumble for the emergency break, trying to find it with my foot in the dark and Delaney on my lap. That's a lot harder than it sounds, when you're careening backwards down a hill.

  When I hit the brake pedal and we stop sliding backwards, we're perched on the bank of the pond, the back wheels dangerously close to the water. The golf cart sits slightly at an angle, and Delaney sits squarely on my cock.

  She gasps, her bare breasts heaving, hand over her face. For a second, I think she's crying, but when she looks up, she erupts into peals of laughter. "Holy shit, Gaige, we almost ended up in the lake!"

  "We probably should sit here for a few more minutes," I say. "Don't want to shift the weight or anything to accidentally