Christmas from hell, p.22
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       Christmas from Hell, p.22
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         Part #7 of Neighbor from Hell series by R. L. Mathewson

  “Oh, God,” she gasped, panting hard as her grip on the desk was the only thing holding her up.

  Her entire body trembled, her head spun as her breaths came faster and faster to the point that she wasn’t sure that she could take anymore, but she knew that if he stopped doing whatever he was doing that she would be required to kill him.

  *-*-*-*

  Definitely going to hell, he decided, but really didn’t give a fuck as he tilted his head and slid his tongue between the softest lips that he’d ever had the good fortune of running his tongue over and found her core.

  He growled in hunger as she rewarded him with a moan. He probably shouldn’t be doing this, he realized, but knowing that didn’t stop him from tilting his head back and sliding his tongue inside her as he used his hands to push her legs apart to give him better access.

  Slowly, he slid his tongue in and out of her, fucking her in the way that he’d imagined while she stood bent over his desk. He was definitely going to hell for this one, but he didn’t fucking care. She tasted so damn good and she wasn’t telling him to stop.

  In fact, he had a feeling that if he tried to stop that she might actually try to kill him. It was the way that she moaned and in the way that she spread her legs a little more as she held onto his desk and pushed back, demanding more that told him just how much she was loving this. Smiling, because there was nothing sexier than a woman who knew what she wanted, he slid his tongue slowly out and then back inside her sheath.

  “Duncan,” she moaned his name like a prayer and a plea.

  He grabbed onto her hips, caressing her cheeks with his thumbs as he gave her exactly what she needed and what he was dying to give her. He kept licking her, only pausing every few seconds to flick his tongue over the hood of her little clit before sliding his tongue back inside her. When she reached back with one hand, grabbed a handful of his hair and cried his name, he realized something very important.

  She was his.

  Before she was done screaming his name, he was standing behind her, holding her still by her hips and entering her. She cried out his name and as he cursed out hers, because this one tiny woman had ruined him. Little by little over the past year, she’d destroyed him, annoyed him, made him secretly smile, and gave him something to look forward to every day.

  He could tell himself that he only went to her family’s bakery because the food was so damn good, but that wouldn’t explain why he always watched her every move, absorbing every detail like she was the only thing that was keeping him going. He could tell himself that he watched her, because she was a jinx and he worried about her getting hurt, but that was bullshit. He wanted to see her, to be with her and he used her unfortunate luck with gravity as an excuse to go to her.

  Wrapping his arms around her, he picked her up, careful not to pull out of her and carried her to his bed. Smiling, because he couldn’t believe his good fortune, he slid out of her, turned her over onto her back and kissed her. He kissed her slowly, savoring every touch and taste of her lips as he settled between her legs.

  “Duncan, please,” she pleaded against his lips as she wrapped her arms and legs around him, locking him in her embrace.

  Not one to deny the woman that drove him out of his fucking mind, he shifted his hips and slid inside her. His eyes flickered closed in pleasure as he savored the way her silky, wet walls gripped him, dragging him further in and making him never want to leave.

  She had him.

  She fucking had him and there was nothing that he could do about it. She was always the one and on some level he’d always known, but he’d fucked up so many times with her that he was afraid that one more time would send her running and he couldn’t risk that.

  So, that meant that he had to figure out a few things, including how to convince her that he saw her as more than just as a jinx.

  He saw her as his.

  Chapter 27

  Monday, December 14th.

  “Stop smiling,” Grandpa snapped without looking up from the apple he was slicing.

  “I’m not smiling,” she said, but of course she was. She couldn’t help smiling, not after yesterday, and last night…and this morning, she thought with a loud yawn.

  She needed a nap, she decided as she risked a glance up and saw that it was barely eight o’clock in the morning, which meant that she had five more hours if she was lucky before she could go home and pass out. Then again, she could excuse herself and go to the office and get some work done and maybe sneak in a quick nap, she thought, sending a hopeful glance towards the locked office door.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Grandpa said as though he could read her mind, and considering the fact that he always seemed to know what she was up to, there was a good chance that he could.

  That was a terrifying thought she’d save for another time, probably for that therapist her grandfather might drive her into seeing one day. She wondered if she’d get a discount if they met him and realized that she was actually very fortunate to have turned out normal. Probably, she decided as she reached for a peeled apple and began the tedious process of slicing it for the apple pies that they were making for the dinner rush.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Dixon?” Maryanne said from the front of the restaurant.

  “What is it?” he asked in that gruff manner of his without looking up from what he was doing.

  “A customer has asked if Necie could work the grill for his order,” she announced, which probably happened a few dozen times a day so it wasn’t really a big deal.

  “I’ll be right th-”

  “She’s busy,” Grandpa said, cutting her off and taking her by surprise, because Grandpa never had a problem when a customer made a special request to have her cook.

  So, why did he have a problem today? she wondered, shifting her attention to Maryanne. “Who is it?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” her grandfather said, but she wasn’t listening.

  “Duncan Bradford,” Maryanne said with a big smile that Necie found contagious.

  “I’ll be right back,” Necie said, removing her baker’s apron and headed to the wash area.

  “Woman, I forbid it!” Grandpa said sternly.

  “Uh huh, that’s nice,” she said absently, biting her bottom lip as she struggled to hold back the huge smile that was trying to take over her lips and give her away, but she couldn’t help it.

  “You go out there and you’re fired!” Grandpa warned.

  “You gave me the majority share of the bakery for my twenty-fifth birthday,” she reminded him, not really paying attention to him or caring that all the employees had stopped what they were doing to stare at her grandfather in a new light.

  They thought that he couldn’t fire them.

  She should probably stay and rectify that bit of confusion, but she had grill duty and she wasn’t one to put off doing her job. Besides, the others would figure it out once someone did or said something stupid to earn his attention, they’d figure it out quickly that her grandfather was still the managing partner in this business.

  Trying not to look too eager to see him, because of course she had to play it cool like most sophisticated women did, she casually strolled out into the front cooking area, grabbed a fresh apron, donned it along with a Dixon’s Bakery baseball cap, double-checked that her ponytail was tight and washed her hands, all while pretending that she didn’t feel a certain pair of emerald eyes running up and down her body, taking in every curve, every single movement, somehow making her entire body tingle with anticipation and all she was doing was taking his breakfast order.

  She was pathetic, but she really didn’t care, not when it came to-

  “Your apron’s on fire!” Maryanne yelled, earning a heavy sigh from her, because of course it was.

  *-*-*-*

  “Let me see your hand,” he said, still trying to figure out how her apron had managed to catch on fire when she’d been more than two feet away from the open ovens.

  Then again, this was his li
ttle jinx that he was talking about here, so this probably really shouldn’t surprise him. While Necie adamantly refused to show him her hand, he muttered a few curses, undid the ties keeping the smoldering apron attached to her and within a few seconds he had it off her and dumped in the wash bucket full of cleaning rags in the corner.

  When he was done, he looked up at her with a look that told her that she had exactly three seconds to show him her hand or he was going to hang her upside down and-

  “Fine!” she sighed heavily, sounding putout as she held her hand out to him before she released the cutest little squeal when he picked her up and carried her towards the back, past the curious employees and the man that kept sizing him up for a body bag and brought her straight to the back sink where he plopped her beautiful ass down on the counter.

  “Don’t move,” he said softly, but the warning was clear.

  Besides, with the way that she tried to run away, she’d probably just trip over her own two feet within a few seconds and then they’d be right back here, only he’d probably have to break out the first aid kit as well. Thankfully, she didn’t try to move or make a run for it as he turned on the water to cold, grabbed her burnt hand and-

  “Ouch!” she gasped on a surprised scream as the cold water hit the injured skin on her palm that was still burning.

  “What the hell are you doing to her?” Mr. Dixon demanded, stalking over to them, clearly intent on taking over.

  “She has a second degree burn on her hand. I’m stopping the burn from spreading,” Duncan simply said as he held Necie’s hand beneath the cold water, refusing to let her pull it back even a centimeter.

  He ignored the numbing pain that was starting to spread through his fingers and hands and kept her hand there, ignoring the tears that were coming down her face because it killed him to see them and focused on stopping the burn from spreading.

  “You’re hurting her!”

  “No,” he said, keeping his voice calm as he leaned in rewarded Necie with a brush of his lips for her bravery, “I’m not.”

  When she turned her head and buried her face against his shoulder and wrapped her free arm around his shoulders, he knew that he had her trust. Keeping his free hand on her hip, he kissed the top of her head as he whispered that everything was going to be okay. When he asked if she trusted him, she didn’t hesitate in nodding and murmuring a little pained, “Yes.”

  “Good girl,” he said in approval, rewarding her with another kiss, “First aid kit?” he asked no one in particular.

  “We’ve got one under the sink,” one of the women said, looking flustered as she gestured towards the cabinet doors beneath them.

  He shook his head, because a ten-dollar first-aid kit from Wal-Mart wasn’t going to do. Not for her. Giving her one last kiss, he released her hand beneath the water and shut the faucet off. Before she could sigh with relief or her grandfather could demand that he get his hands off her, he was carrying her back the way that they’d come. Only this time he didn’t stop until he had her out the front door and carried her to his truck.

  “Where the hell do you think you’re going with her?” her grandfather asked, looking flustered as he threw an accusing glare at Necie, telling him that the old bastard had probably gone for one of his guns from his infamous collection, one reason the bakery had never been robbed, and she’d found a way to block him.

  He fucking loved this girl, he decided, shooting her grandfather a wink, letting him know that he was well aware of how close he’d come to getting his balls shot off and simply said, “Home.”

  Chapter 28

 
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