Page 92 of Santa's Baby

I look up at the man fucking me tenderly, and a part of me hates the fact that the stress is showing its face again, like roots growing back up from dead earth.

Reuben Sinclair could hurt me. Destroy me. Tear the world from under my feet.

Because I love him.

“What are you thinking, Tiffany?” he repeats, and his voice has more bite to it, even though the rhythm of his hips stays in line.

“I’m thinking about us,” I say. “About how fucking insane we really are.” I smile. “No, scrap that. I’m thinking about how insaneIam. For letting myself be so crazy.”

“Keep going.”

He sucks at my other nipple, sending sparks down to my clit.

“Since we saw each other, it’s like we’ve lost our heads, isn’t it? And the thing is, I don’t want mine back. Not yet.” I groan. “I never thought I’d be alright with all my proposals slipping out of my calendar. I never figured I’d hack being so consumed with just one guy.”

“Monogamy? Is that what you’re referring to?”

I urge him on with my hips, his cock right on the fucking spot.

“Yeah, I guess so. Hardly a thing for a hooker, is it?”

“That depends if you want to be a hooker anymore.”

He laps at my nipple as his eyes look up at mine. I must look so unflattering from this angle, but the adoration is still obvious on his face. It makes my pussy sparks worse – or better.

“Do you want to be a hooker anymore, Tiffany?”

My heart races at the question, battling my head with all its might.

I’m torn. Split. Divided.

I love my job. I love the anonymity of my clients, and being the top of the tree. I love the income. I love being a dirty bitch, without consequences. Without having to hope for anything more.

But I love Reuben.

I crave the idea of a life with him.

If he’ll give me one…

“I don’t know,” I tell him, and run my fingers through his hair. “Do you want me to be a hooker anymore?”

“Good one-eighty.”

I grin. Soppy and stupid.

“Got a bit of time to decide yet, haven’t we? I haven’t got any more proposals booked in yet besides the founders gig. We can get that out of the way and have a jolly Christmas. Think it through in the New Year.”

He tenses up, pausing with his cock all the way inside me.

“What?” I ask, his face so close to mine. His eyes have the same fire they had when he dragged me through to the sofa.

My butterflies do a spin in my stomach.

“Go on,” I say. “Be honest. Do you want me to stop being a hooker?”

I run my nails down his back. Part of me wanting him to admit it, part of me not.

“Fuck waiting until New Year until you make the decision. I want you to cancel the founders’ proposal in the meantime.”