Frosting Her Christmas Cookies - Alina Jacobs Page 0,31

again.

As it was, this was the most I had seen her since she had returned after having disappeared a few years ago without a word. I was almost drunk on the attention, even though most of her comments to me were some flavor of big-sister bossy. I still loved it. It felt like back when we were kids and it was Christmas, and my mom would put Belle in charge of making the house perfect for the marathon of parties my parents hosted.

“How did you even get in here?” I asked Morticia.

She held out a lanyard. “Carl gave me a keycard.”

I smiled at her. “So you can come up and see me at all hours of the night?”

Her face remained a perfect mask. “No.”

“So you’re not spreading a little Christmas cheer?” I leaned forward in my seat.

“Don’t let the nails confuse you,” she replied, displaying a set of freshly painted fingernails that had tiny Christmas scenes meticulously drawn on them. A few nails even sported the Hillrock West Distillery logo.

She set a bottle of alcohol on my desk then pushed me back into my chair and swung me around.

“I like a woman who’s forceful,” I half joked. Really, I wanted her to straddle me and ride my cock.

“Bake-off starts in two hours. I don’t want to lose the good light before your face gets too puffy with all the sugar you’re about to consume,” she said tartly as she grabbed my tie then deftly undid it. She snaked the fabric from my neck and draped it around her own then studied me with a practiced eye, her mouth ever so slightly open.

I could just lean up and kiss her.

Except my multibillion-dollar net worth and my company were on the line. I couldn’t afford to alienate Morticia. I needed her.

I’m a great kisser; nothing would be alienating about it.

Morticia unbuttoned my white dress shirt, popping up the collar. She stood back and examined me.

I gave her my best bedroom eyes.

She reached over and ran her fingers through my hair, and the touch alone was enough to end me. My dick was half hard, and there were dancing elves in my vision, reminding me that it had now been seven weeks since I’d been laid.

I shifted in the chair to ease some of the pressure on my balls.

“Yeah, that’s good,” Morticia said in her raspy voice as she held up her phone to take pictures. “Spread your legs like that a little bit.”

“Isn’t that my line?” I said before I could stop myself. I froze slightly.

Was she going to tase me? Hit me? Fuck me?

The artist extended her hand, her nails sharp as talons. I flinched slightly as they grazed my cheek then reached for the bottle of brandy and handed it to me.

“No,” she purred, “that’s my line.”

Hot fucking damn. My dick jumped.

There was more smirking from Morticia. “Yeah,” she said, “lick your lips a little bit, and think sexy thoughts.”

I pulled at my shirt collar. It was boiling hot in here. “Am I giving you sexy thoughts?” I asked in a deep voice.

“You’re giving me all the sexy thoughts,” she said. She leaned over me and grabbed my jaw in one hand, her nails lightly pressing into the skin, then ran her thumb over my mouth before snapping a few more shots.

The elves that had been dancing in my vision were now taking turns pummeling me with toy hammers. Morticia was so close to me, not even a foot away, inspecting the pictures, I could just reach out and—

“I think I have what I need,” she said.

“I don’t have what I need,” I said, reaching out and resting a hand on her waist. Her eyes met mine and flicked down to my crotch then back up.

“I have the bake-off.” She abruptly turned and left.

Fuck.

“Make me proud,” I called after her, trying to salvage the moment.

Double fuck.

Morticia was waiting outside the studio an hour later. I had needed that much time to calm down. I was fighting a nasty battle with myself not to jerk off in my office. It was all glass, for fuck’s sake. I had barely started to salvage my sale; I couldn’t be plastered all over the news for acting like a pervert.

But all I could think about was Morticia—the curve of her waist under the heavy fabric, the smoky sage smell of her.

“I’m sorry,” I said to her. “I’m just losing my mind a bit. That was totally inappropriate. Also, you still have my tie. Wait.”