For a big man he was very flexible. And creative. Georgia pulled his cap off his head and sunk her fingers in his beautiful hair, pressing him closer. He kissed and licked and nipped every inch of her sensitive flesh before filling her with his tongue. Again and again, deep and so clever that Georgia was raising her hips, desperate for more. Lost to his rhythm.
“Chris. Oh, yes, Chris like that. Don’t stop.” She called out his name as the first rush of pleasure washed over her, and he moaned.
“I need to—baby, I need to—“ He swore and struggled to reach his back pocket in the narrow space. He pulled out a condom. She tried to tease him as she shook from her receding orgasm, but she was just too happy to care.
He made a pained face as he slid it on. “I wasn’t expecting anything, but when it comes to you it’s always best to be prepared.”
“Doc the boy scout.”
His look was wicked. “Hardly.”
When he kissed her, the taste of herself on his tongue was distracting. Decadent. And then he was inside her. Stretching her. In this position he could fill her completely. Deeper than she’d ever experienced. In every possible meaning of the word. And she knew most of them.
The windows fogged as their breathing grew harder. Their moans filling the once pristine SUV. Chris’s slow and deep rhythm changed to something more dangerous. Something swifter. And Georgia wanted to move to it.
“I think I like this position,” she panted. “Now I understand why yoga is so popular.”
Chris laughed and swore and moaned all at the same time. “I’m obviously not doing a good enough job at distracting you. Let’s see what we can do about that.”
He rose up with his elbows on either side of her head and looked into her eyes with a smile. “Hang on to something.”
Georgia screamed his name. Yes. Oh, God, yes, this was what she wanted. Hard and fast and deep as he could go. He pressed his pelvis against her clit, again and again until she thought she might pass out before she came.
She saw fireworks behind her eyes and then fire and lightning arced through her body as she heard Chris join her, falling with her. Coming with her. And it was in that moment that she realized it wasn’t the drinks. It wasn’t the night. It was them. It was Chris and Jimmy and Flynn. This feeling wasn’t a fluke.
In fact, it was even stronger than it had been before.
Chris lifted his head, his chest heaving and kissed her forehead. Her cheeks. Her lips. “We should get dressed and get back to the cabin.”
A familiar voice echoed through the radio speakers. “Yes, you should, it’s too cold outside for necking.”
“Connie?” Georgia squeaked.
“Yes, dear. And while you’re at it, maybe you should unhook your cell phone if you plan on rolling around in the car like two teenagers who don’t have actual homes to go to.” She paused. “Oh, shit, I’m already starting to sound like my mother. Merry Christmas, Georgia. And God bless us, every perverted one.”
The dial tone droned around them as they stared at each other in embarrassed silence.
Georgia started laughing.
Chris sighed and moved to open the door, so they could straighten themselves out. “I had no idea cars could call people. Technology should have its limits.”
Georgia glared at the GPS. “You said it.”
***
She didn’t think she’d ever enjoyed a Christmas Eve more. When Chris had driven up in her car, both Jimmy and Flynn had come out smiling. They’d hugged her as if she hadn’t left so abruptly, though Jimmy did notice that she was a bit more mussed than she should have been for a one-hour car ride.
She’d apologized right away, and they accepted. In fact, Flynn had informed her with a secretive smile, they were counting on Chris to return with her. When they opened the door to the cabin she found out why.
Mistletoe. Mistletoe was everywhere. Hanging from every inch of the wooden rafters, tucked into the bookshelves. Hovering over the door. Jimmy had shuffled his feet, looking uncomfortable before saying, “We’d ask you to dance, but not a damn one of us ever learned how.”
It was her favorite story. Her grandparents at the Christmas dance. The mistletoe. They’d done that for her? She knew there was only one response to a gesture that incredibly romantic.
She spent the night teaching them to dance.
The lessons were interspersed with long bouts of another physical activity that each man excelled at. And when she’d woken up to more kisses, all blamed on the mistletoe of course, she decided that Christmas was hers again. Her birthday. Her miracle. Her favorite day of the year.
The men had made her breakfast and then, unable to wait, they’d shown her what they’d each bought Roux for Christmas. Three grown men who’d never had a puppy. Roux was going to be spoiled rotten.