The Christmas Pickup Read online

  “Damn, weather girl. You found the prize.”

  She smiles. “Oh, is this what Santa brought me for being such a good girl?”

  I growl and start to claw the hem of her sweater. She gasps and grips tighter on my rod as I yank down her bra and find her tight little nipple with my mouth. One and then the other. She’s gasping softly as I stretch the shit out of her festive little sweater.

  “Let it out, weather girl. Nobody’s listening now but me.”

  Mary moans as I rake my teeth and circle my tongue around her nipple as I struggle to keep one eye on the road.

  She starts to work over my cock back and forth, and it takes everything in me to keep myself from letting go of my seed right here.

  And then, we’re in my driveway. I can hardly believe we made it.

  I murmur into her neck, “We’re home. I need to get you inside. I’m gonna take you. Hold tight.”

  Chapter 15

  Mary

  Once again he’s carrying me like I weigh nothing. He’s moving so swiftly I’m afraid he’s going to kick down his own front door.

  “Bear,” I say as he’s opening his front door with his foot.

  We’ve left our coats in the truck in our haste. “I need to tell you something.”

  “You married?”

  “No.”

  He slams the front door behind us. I hardly have time to take in my surroundings before his lips are warm and wet on my cold ones.

  “Then it can wait,” he says roughly as he sets me down and presses me against the door.

  He makes my jeans disappear along with my undies. His breath is hot against my neck.

  I reach down between us and dip my hand into his fly again. But this time he stops me.

  “Too many layers. I wanna feel all of you. I’m gonna have your sweet pussy wrapped around me all the way down to the hilt.”

  We furiously fumble with his work overalls. When he’s finally got them off, he can’t wait any longer to drop his long johns.

  “Good enough!” He grits out, hoisting up my legs so I’m wrapped around him and feeling his cock at my opening.

  My nails rake over his back. It’s not enough. I need to feel his skin against mine.

  I yank at his shirt and rub my hands up and down the length of his hard abs.

  I’m trying to compel him to take off his shirt but, he grunts out, “You ready? I can’t wait another second.”

  “Let me look at it again,” I breathe.

  “Fuck,” he growls.

  I take him in my hand and lightly but surely hold on while I stare at it. Bear’s cock is long and thick, and a tempting, urgent shade of red. I rub my thumb over the tip.

  He shudders.

  I toss aside my sweater that he’s stretched all to shit, followed by my bra. He growls at the sight of me.

  I take his length in my hands again. I can feel a pearl of pre-cum form on his cock. It coats my finger. I lock my eyes on his while I dab it on my breast.

  His breath is like a wild animal now.

  “You have a Christmas stocking for that present?” I ask.

  He pulls back. “No. And I’m not gonna go find one. You’ve built up a storm in me, weather girl.

  “I didn’t need anybody until I found you. And now you belong to me. And that means no raincoat. See, I’m gonna spend the rest of my life with you. Do you understand?”

  My breath catches.

  Hours ago I would have run screaming from a guy who spoke to me like that.

  Right now, all I can see in front of me is a good man.

  He sinks his cock partially inside me.

  All I see and all I feel is a good man worthy of my love. And my whole life.

  “Yes.”

  He pushes all the way in, and body lights up. I wrap my legs around him, as if having sex up against a door is something I do every day. Everything is easy with him, though.

  “Say my name, Mary.” His breath and his lips against mine taste and smell like Big Red gum.

  “Give me what’s mine, Bear. Oh god!” No sooner is his name out of my mouth and he is rearing back and thrusting hard.

  He pulls back and thrusts again, this time more wildly, and I rise up farther along the wall with the power of him. “Mary Reed. Do you want to know what I do every night after the weather report?”

  His voice is gruff and his charming smile is gone, replaced by a creature consumed by pure lust. His eyes are not a warm fireplace but a raging inferno.

  If the length of his beautiful shaft wasn’t hitting all the right pleasure points at the moment, I might be afraid of what I’m seeing in those eyes of his.

  But I’m not afraid.

  Not one moment with him this entire night have I felt anything but safe. Protected. Shielded from the storm.

  “What do you do with yourself, Bear?” I ask, playing along even though I already have an idea what the answer is.

  He thrusts harder and I cry out as his fingers tighten on my ass.

  “I lie in my bed and rub one out, pretending it’s your hands on me, or your mouth,” he says. “I close my eyes and I see your pretty little tits in whatever tight sweater you were wearing on TV that night. And when I come, I picture myself drenching those tits of yours. And then I fantasize that I’m waking you up with my mouth between your legs the next morning, before driving you to work. You go to work with my cum all over your skin, under your clothes.”

  I gasp and clench him hard.

  “I’m close, weather girl,” he says.

  “Bear, your fantasy sounds a lot like we’re married—” He cuts me off again by devouring my mouth. He really enjoys interrupting me that way, but I don’t actually mind.

  I moan as he takes one breast into his mouth and suckles it, and then the other.

  “Bear…”

  “That’s because in my fantasy…” he says, punctuating his words with a devastating thrust that has me crying out. He continues, giving one final thrust, “you’re already my wife.”

  Chapter 16

  Bear

  I feel my cum surge into her, filling her completely, just as my movements hit her at the exact spot. She shatters. Her tight sex spasms around me and I’m rocketing into another time and place. I’m so happy I feel like I’m floating.

  “Fuck, weather girl,” I groan like a wild thing while her orgasm pulls me in deeper and milks me dry.

  I pull her in close to me, her tits heaving against my chest as she catches her breath.

  I back us away from the wall, but I don’t dare put her down.

  In fact, my cock is still nestled deep inside as I walk her back to my bedroom.

  “It’s good you’re like carrying me, because I don’t think I can walk,” she says breathlessly, her eyelashes feathering against my shoulder.

  I stroke her hair when we reach the bed. “Did I hurt you?”

  She shakes her head and smiles, “Takes more than that to make me sore, cowboy.”

  And damn if this little sass-mouth isn’t making my dick twitch all over again.

  Chapter 17

  Mary

  I feel like an idiot.

  I’m standing here staring at Bear’s fireplace, where there are two stockings. One marked “Bear,” and the other one, a big, fluffy, cable knit pink one with sequin trim, says “Martha.” It’s drooping with the weight of presents inside of it.

  It’s too big to be for a little girl, isn’t it?

  And surely he would have told me if he had a daughter.

  Then it occurs to me he’s told me very little about himself.

  Could he be…married?

  Oh sweet baby Jesus, no.

  My hand goes to my mouth. It can’t be true. Not after all that talk last night of spending our lives together. It makes no sense.

  But the nervous part of my brain reminds me that I’m not all that great at dating. I might not be very good at catching a liar.

  Him being married explains why he was so hesitant to talk about hi
s love life last night.

  It explains why I know so little about him.

  If he’s married, that means I’ve done it on the bed of another woman. It means I’ve showered in her shower, dressed myself in her man’s boxers and oversized flannel shirt. One she probably folded herself. I’m holding a huge Santa Claus mug of her coffee.

  Whoever Martha is, I’ve done her wrong.

  And I realize I couldn’t know, but I didn’t really probe him for facts about his personal life, did I? I accepted it at face value when he said he wasn’t married. I didn’t bother with any follow up, did I? No, I’m as much to blame as he is.

  I want to run, I want to duck out of there and never see him again.

  But my car, obviously, is still stuck somewhere along the highway. I peek outside. The storm has abated but the roads are still impassable.

  I text Jenna: I’m in a bit of a pickle. I can’t be sure but I’m starting to wonder if he’s married. I’m sure he’s not, but I need to find out for sure. And I’m stuck at his house. I’m going to see if there are any other trucks in town that can pull my car out. Or if any cabs are running. Quite a Christmas morning I’m having. Merry Christmas, by the way.

  The reply comes seconds later: Merry Christmas! Turn on the news!

  I find it odd that she had no response to my new suspicions about Bear, but I turn on the news anyway because, well, she’s not just my friend but also still my boss.

  I turn on the TV and find Channel 2.

  The first thing I see is a shot of my car being pulled out of the snow drift along the highway. And the truck that’s pulling it out is none other than Bear Bailey’s Snow Angel.

  The shot cuts to Jenna, who is holding a microphone and standing next to Bear.

  “Jenna! What the hell are you doing on TV?” I shout, even though I’m the only one in the room.

  The news editor has not worked in front of a camera in about ten years, but she’s still got it. This must be on a time delay or there is no way she would have been texting me a minute ago.

  Jenna is speaking into the camera while Bear is looking a bit perplexed and embarrassed. “I’m here with Bear Bailey of Bear Bailey towing, who I’m told spent his entire Christmas Eve night during the weather event rescuing stranded drivers all over the city. Bear, tell us why you decided to do this.”

  She shoves the mic in Bear’s face. He raises his eyebrows as if he hadn’t anticipated having to speak on camera. He smiles crookedly and I see the cute little dimple and the sweet, slightly crooked front tooth. He shrugs and his cheeks are flushed. “It’s Christmas, and it’s just something you do.”

  And then I know the truth He’s not married. He’s not a liar. And I didn’t wrong anyone. Those eyes, even through the TV, reveal nothing but a pure heart. Martha is somebody, but it’s not a wife or girlfriend.

  Jenna then asks him a few more questions, they show some more footage, and they even cut to a bedside interview with Liz holding her baby at the hospital. There are about half a dozen people singing Bear’s praises.

  My heart explodes. I’m so proud to know this man.

  Seeing him through the eyes of all the people he’s helped just seals the deal in stone. I’m going to marry the best man in town.

  The camera cuts back to Jenna. “Well, that’s quite a story, Mr. Bailey. Is there anyone out there you would like to wish a special Merry Christmas to?”

  He looks down shyly and a sweet smile spreads across his face and crinkles his eyes at Jenna. “Yeah. I’d like to say Merry Christmas to my mom, and also to my favorite weather girl, Chief Meteorologist Mary Reed.” He then turns to the camera. “Mary if you’re watching, I love you. And not in a TV fanboy kind of way.”

  Jenna pulls back the mic and signs off with, “Don’t we all just love her? Back to you in the studio, Corky.”

  I click off the TV and drop the remote. I also drop my phone and cover my mouth.

  Just then, I hear keys in the door.

  Seconds later the door opens and it’s Bear. And also, a huge, floppy-eared yellow lab bounds in out of the snow to greet me.

  “Mary, meet Martha,” Bear says, and I start to laugh with tears in my eyes.

  Martha the dog runs up to me and sniffs, lets me pet her, and then she trots off.

  “I didn’t see a dog bed, or toys…” I start.

  Bear has himself stripped down to his shirt and jeans, kicking off his snow gear in the tile entryway. He greets me with a giant bear hug and his lips are cold when he covers my mouth with his.

  “You’re freezing,” I say.

  “Then warm me up,” he says gruffly, although he can’t hide his smile.

  My feet are dangling as he’s still got me caught up in his arms.

  “I made coffee,” I reply.

  But instead he rakes the tips of his fingers under the hem of the boxers I’m wearing, which are huge on me. He easily finds my warm folds, which are aroused and damp just at the sight of him.

  “I have a better idea,” he says.

  He plunges a finger inside me and I suck in my breath.

  This is going to be the nicest Christmas Day ever.

  Chapter 18

  Bear

  She gasps as I find her clit and circle it with my fingers.

  I ran you a hot bath,” she says.

  “Is that so?”

  She nods. “I thought your muscles would be tired and achy after all that work this morning.”

  I run a thumb across her lips and then down her throat, then hook my thumb over the first button on the shirt of mine that she’s wearing.

  “Wearing my shirt, my boxers. Making coffee. Offering me a bath. Feels like what married people do for each other.”

  I use that finger to pull her in for a long, deep, smoldering kiss. It’s the kind of kiss meant to make a girl feel like she’s the only other person on the planet. The kind of kiss meant to make her knees buckle under her. The kind that comes from a man who wants to give her everything and expects nothing in return.

  But I do want something.

  She must be a mind-reader, because while I’m massaging her sweet, sticky folds with one hand and cupping her breast with the other, she manages to give me exactly what I want.

  “I saw you on TV a minute ago. I love you, too, Bear Bailey. And not in a TV fangirl kind of way,” she says.

  My heart tightens in my chest with love for this woman.

  Just 16 hours ago I was fantasizing about this, and now I’m carrying her half-naked body to my tub.

  I set her on her feet. She watches me go slow as I strip down, letting her eyes linger over me.

  I pull something out of the pocket of my jeans when she turns to light a candle, and I make sure she doesn’t see it as I place it on the other side of the tub.

  I sink into the hot water, and the Epsom salts feel good. The woman knows how to take care of me, I’ll give her that.

  Mary sits on the edge and starts to massage my back when I take her hand.

  “Spread for me,” I command. And she does.

  She scoots forward on the edge of the tub so her legs are in the water. Her glistening pink pussy is soaked for me. And I’m thirsty for her.

  I take a taste of her and she’s like pure, raw honey on my tongue. I run my tongue up and down her smooth folds while she lets out a moan.

  “Hold on to the towel rod, baby, I’m just getting started,” I instruct her.

  My lips find her clit. It’s already a hard little stone, ready to allow me to bring her over the edge, and I tease it even more by stroking it with my teeth, my tongue and then my teeth again.

  The alternating sensations send her legs trembling.

  I pull back then. “Mary, do you trust me?”

  She’s breathless as she pants out, “Yes, of course I trust you, Bear.”

  I share her taste with her lips, and she takes it lovingly. “Then I want you to finish while I watch.”

  “Anything,” she moans, reaching her hand down betw
een her legs. The immediate eagerness of this woman is nearly sending me overboard with my own orgasm.

  “With this,” I say, reaching over the side of the tub and producing a small, purple, silicone object.

  Her eyes focus on what I’m holding. “My vibrator?”

  “Baby,” I say. “I’ve been thinking about it since I found it in your emergency kit last night. I’ve been thinking about watching you with it. Will you do that for me?”

  A smile creeps across her face. “And here I thought all you thought about was rescuing the helpless on Christmas Eve.”

  But she doesn’t tease me anymore. She does what I ask without a shadow of self-doubt.

  And later, I’ll do anything she wants. Every day. For the rest of my life.

  I’ve got a 50-year outlook right now, and it’s a 100 percent chance of sunshine.

  Epilogue

  One year later

  Mary

  Bear had wanted a short engagement.

  After proposing to me in the bathtub that Christmas morning with a family heirloom ring, he had it in his mind that we should hit the courthouse the very next day.

  But as soon as I texted Jenna the good news, she was already planning a date to pick out a dress and a cake.

  “We’re going to keep it small. Maybe even a quickie, private ceremony,” I had told her when we were all back at work a few days later.

  She simply blinked at me. “You do know the entire newsroom and the crew will want to be there, right? After everything you do for them, they all owe you about 500 wedding gifts, by my count.”

  When I had told Violet the good news, all bets were off. Not only was Violet going to officiate the ceremony, she also offered the Soda Jerk, with its elaborate stage and large dance floor, as a venue.

  Before I could protest, Jenna and Violet were putting their heads together as planner and coordinator. Don’t even ask me which of them was the planner and which one of them was the coordinator. The pair became thick as thieves, carrying around binders with fabric swatches, pictures of floral arrangements, and who knows what else.