Jingle Bell: Rock Part 4

"I'm going to make you come, Frannie."

Her eyes snapped open and she stiffened, but Booker didn't let her gather her wits enough to retreat. Carefully, he laid her back on the counter, kissing her deeply again until she sighed and clung to him. Stroking her, he smoothed his hand over her shoulder, down her side, and to her hip. The elastic waistband of her jogging pants proved accommodating.

Her stomach sucked in and she gasped.

"Shhh..." he told her, then groaned when he found her panties damp. "G.o.d, I've dreamed of touching you like this."

He heard her fast shallow breaths and lifted his head. Eyes wide, she stared at the ceiling. Her face was warm, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s rising and falling as she panted, her nipples achingly tight.

Booker gently pushed one finger inside her, gritting his teeth against the instant clasp of her body. Her lips parted on a deep inhalation. "How's that feel?" he asked her, slipping his finger in and out, his voice so low and hoa.r.s.e he barely recognized himself.

Rather than answer, her neck arched and her eyes closed. With his heart slamming hard enough to shake his body, Booker went back to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s-at the same time working in a second finger. She was tight, but so wet and hot he knew she would enjoy the slight stretch of ultra-sensitive flesh.

Her legs opened wider.

Nipping gently with his lips, he teased her nipple. He circled with his tongue, held her with his teeth and tugged until she cried out, rolling her hips against his hand, bathing his fingers in slick moisture. He found her c.l.i.toris with his thumb, pressed, and then let her set her pace.

"Booker," she whispered, then again, a little louder, a little more shrill, "Booker."

G.o.d, yes, he thought, thrilled with her response. He held her closer to still her movements. While thrusting his fingers harder, faster, he sucked strongly at her nipple. In a sudden rush of sensation, she climaxed, her body bowing on the countertop, her cries loud and sweet. Booker had to fight back his own o.r.g.a.s.m so he didn't embarra.s.s himself by coming in his pants.

Slowly, Frannie subsided, her body going limp by small degrees. She'd managed to knock the clip out of her hair and it tumbled around her face, a little tangled, a little sweaty. Booker leaned over her, smiling, feeling pretty d.a.m.n good except for a straining, painful erection.

He touched her lax mouth, brushed a pale blond lock away from her forehead. "I love you, Frannie."

Her eyes snapped open-and the oven dinged.

Good timing, Booker decided. He knew he could take her now and all her protestations wouldn't mean a thing. She was soft, limp, open to him in body and emotions. Her gently parted lips told him so. The flush of her skin told him so. Her heavy, unfocused eyes told him so.

But he'd promised her and because he loved her, because he wanted her for the rest of his life, not just tonight, he slid his arms under her shoulders and lifted her off the counter. She was unsteady on her feet, weaving until he steadied her.

Her T-s.h.i.+rt fell into place. He helped readjust her displaced jogging pants. After a teasing flick on her nose, he said, "The cookies will burn," and went to fetch a potholder to remove the tray from the oven. The air filled with the humid scents of sugary cookies, and the more subtle scent of aroused woman.

When he turned to face Frances again, she hadn't moved. She was still staring at him, mute, but also drowsy with satisfaction.

Booker sighed. "I'm going to go now. If I don't, you won't get that time you need to think about things."

That brought her around, her eyes blinking and her shoulders straightening. "You need time to think too, to make sure-"

"No." He reached out and brushed one fingertip over her left breast, making her shudder anew. "I know what I want."

"You mean right now?" She swallowed. "Or tomorrow?"

Smiling, Booker told her, "I already got what I wanted right now. Thank you."

She blinked rapidly again. "You're welcome."

"Tomorrow I'd love to have you naked, so I can really love you proper. So I can come with you. Inside you."

She rolled her lips in on a soft moan.

"After that," he said, looking at her directly, making sure she understood, "I want everything. Every day, every night, the rest of our lives."

She drew a shuddering breath, opened her mouth to speak, and Booker put a finger to her lips. "No, honey. Just do your thinking, okay? We'll talk in the morning."

"But-"

"Can you sleep now? I don't have to worry about you slipping outside?"

"I can sleep."

She already looked halfway there, amusing him and blunting the l.u.s.t with tenderness. He cupped her jaw. "I love you, Frannie," he stated again, then he went to her door and walked out.

Frances woke slowly, a smile on her mouth. He loved her. Her Christmas wishes had come true. Feeling energized despite the fact she'd only had a few hours sleep, she threw off the covers and went to the window. More snow had fallen, blanketing the world in a dazzling display of silver and white. It was so awe-inspiring it took her breath away.

A tap sounded on her bedroom wall. "G'morning, beautiful."

Almost dancing in her happiness, Frances dashed back to the bed and laid her hand on the wall. "Good morning, Booker."

"I miss you."

She hugged herself in giddy pleasure. "It hasn't been that long. Why are you up?"

"Because a s.e.xy broad turned me inside out last night, then sent me to my lonely bed. Oh wait. Do you mean why am I out of bed?"

She chuckled. "Booker Dean, you know exactly what I meant." He had gone home alone, all because he was so considerate and wonderful... and he said he loved her. She wanted to stand up and sing.

"Well, as to that, I was hoping that same s.e.xy broad would have something special to say to me today. I've been laying here just waiting."

Frances fell back on the mattress, arms wide, heart full. Oh, she had things to say to him. Lots and lots of things. What he'd done to her last night, how he'd made her feel...

She sat back up and spoke close to the wall. "She just might." Booker said today he wanted her naked, then he wanted her for the rest of their lives. She badly wanted to give him whatever he wanted. Struck with sudden, very daring inspiration, Frances glanced at the clock. She bit her lip, hesitated, then forced herself to say, "I'll need an hour, okay?"

"Right. One hour. But keep in mind I'll be holding my breath." He tapped on the wall, and Frances knew he'd left the room. She jumped up and dashed into the shower. This was going to be the most magical Christmas ever-one that would start her on a new life with the man she loved.

Booker got out of the shower at the sound of knocking on his door. Frances? d.a.m.n, he hoped so. He pulled a towel around his hips and went to greet her.

Unfortunately, it was Axel and Cary, not Frances. They sported a box of doughnuts, beard-shadowed cheeks, and red-rimmed eyes.

"Morning, Booker," Axel said as he walked in, then nudged the door shut behind him. "Did you lock me out on purpose?"

Booker headed to his bedroom to dress. "It's only seven in the morning. I always lock my door at night when I sleep."

Cary said, "See? It wasn't personal." Then to Booker, "I'm going to put on coffee."

Booker emerged wearing jeans and carrying a s.h.i.+rt and sneakers. "No. Your coffee sucks. I'll get it" Feeling a touch of deja vu, Booker pulled his s.h.i.+rt over his head, pushed his feet into his sneakers, and began coffee preparations. "All right Why the early-morning visit?"

Cary grinned. "You are so d.a.m.n suspicious, Booker. h.e.l.l, we're just heading home after pulling an all-nighter."

"Together?"

"No." Axel fished out a fat jelly doughnut and took a large bite. "We hooked up for breakfast, then decided you might want doughnuts, too."

"You were with Judith all night?"

Axel paused in the middle of chewing. "Is that okay?"

"I keep telling you that it is. Just don't ever try it with Frannie. I don't even want you looking at her. Got it?"

"I'll wear blinders when the girl is around."

"See that you do." He finished the coffee. "I'm kind of amazed at your speed with Judith, though."

Grinning, Axel said, "Yeah, well, she's been converted."

"Axel-fied?" Cary asked.

"Exactly. And who can think of marriage when having so much fun being single?"

Booker's front door opened again and Frances called softly, "Booker?"

Knowing he grinned like a sap and not caring in the least, Booker saluted his brother and Cary. "I'll be right back." He would allow his brother one cup of coffee, and then he'd oust him for some alone-time with Frannie.

She stood uncertainly inside his door, her bare feet s.h.i.+fting on his carpet, her hands playing with the belt to her robe. She hadn't dressed yet? Excellent.

For once, she had her hair loose too, freshly brushed and hanging past her shoulders. She chewed on her bottom lip. Her continued shyness charmed him.

Booker looked her over, realized she appeared naked beneath the robe, and all kinds of delightful possibilities rolled through him. "Good morning," he murmured, already thinking ahead to how quickly he could get rid of his brother and get Frannie into bed.

Her smile trembled. "Do you remember what you said yesterday, Booker?" Her hands continued to fidget with her belt.

He walked closer. "I said a lot of things."

"You said you wanted me naked."

Heat raced up his spine. "Yeah, I-"

She jerked the belt loose and dropped her robe. It pooled around her slim ankles leaving her gloriously, beautifully nude.

Booker froze, his eyes going wide, his c.o.c.k leaping to attention. Lord, she devastated his senses. He couldn't blink, couldn't move.

And then from behind him, Axel said, "I don't suppose I should be witnessing this?"

Frannie's screech was shrill enough to shatter gla.s.s. The d.a.m.n robe was on the floor and she dropped down to grab it, twisting at the same time so that her rump faced them instead of her front. And good Lord, the view...

Cary coughed. Axel choked.

Belatedly, Booker reeled on his brother. He blasted him with a look and gave him a hard shove that sent him stumbling back into Cary, toppling them both into the kitchen. Neither Axel nor Cary seemed to mind the attack. They were both too busy laughing.

Booker slugged his brother hard in the arm.

"Ow."

"d.a.m.n it, Axel, I told you I didn't want you looking at her."

In his defense, Axel said, "I didn't know I'd get to see her in the buff, now did I?" and he rubbed at his shoulder where Booker had hit him. "It's a reflex. Naked woman equals staring. Any man still breathing would look at that, and you d.a.m.n well know it."

"I would," Cary said, and Booker slugged him, too. But Cary just continued to snicker and grin.

Booker's front door slammed shut.

d.a.m.n it! He rounded on his brother again. "Now see what you two have done?"

"Us? We're innocent bystanders. In fact, I think I may have wounded myself when she dropped that robe. My eyeb.a.l.l.s. .h.i.t the floor."

Cary nodded. "Coffee came straight out my nose. Hurt like h.e.l.l."

Booker pointed a finger at them both. "Leave. "Then he went into his bedroom and sat on the bed nearest to the wall. He could hear funny noises in Frances's room. Probably her thumping her fists on the bed.

"Frannie?"

The noise stopped, then in an agonized whisper, "I'm going to kill your brother, Booker."

"Not if I kill him first." He smiled. At least she was still talking to him. "Mind if I come over?"

"Yes!"

He rose from the bed, turned-and ran into Axel. After they'd both regained their balance, Booker scowled. "I told you to leave."

"I thought I'd apologize."

Frannie yelled, "Go to h.e.l.l, Axel!"

Axel grinned. "She's got a temper, doesn't she?"

Booker pushed past him. "Go home, okay?" He went through his apartment and next door to Frannie's. Her door wasn't locked, so he walked on in, but made a point of locking it behind him.

He found Frances on her bed, facedown, a pillow over her head. She'd pulled the robe back on, but when she'd flung herself on the bed, it had fluttered up to her knees. Her smooth calves and bare feet drew him.

G.o.d, he had it bad. "Frances?"

She went utterly still, then gripped the pillow over her head more firmly.

"Are you trying to smother yourself, honey?"

"Maybe," came her m.u.f.fled reply.

Booker sat on the bed beside her. "I'm sorry you got embarra.s.sed." He was so d.a.m.n h.o.r.n.y, he could barely speak. He wanted to soothe her, to make her feel better, but more than that he wanted to disperse with the robe, turn her to her back and look at her some more. That flash peek at her naked body had only whet an already ravenous appet.i.te.