Page 22 of Naughty Elf: Wink
“Oh, that’s…wow.” I gulped, clearing my throat, suddenly feeling a little warm under the collar. “Is that… mine?”
“Whose else do you think I would know so well?” The corners of his lips twitched, and he seemed to be waiting for my reaction. He was nervous, as if expecting me to reject him. “I tend to have a chaotic streak. I don’t like rules or coloring inside the lines, and I was told that my version of help was more of a distraction. Santa told me I was… naughty.” His cheeks burned red with shame, and his eyes shifted back to the table.
I hated to see him like this, his spirit broken, and so did my raccoon. He grumbled that our mate had lost that inner light and that I needed to do something to fix it. So I did the only thing I could think of. I hooked my arms around his waist and dragged him closer so I could tip his chin up. “Well, I happen to love your brand of distraction,” I said. “You’re my kind of naughty.”
That brought out his smile, and he gave me a slow kiss that filled me with tingles that felt like tiny popping champagne bubbles.
Distracted as we were, we weren’t paying attention to our surroundings, or else we would’ve noticed Leander entering the kitchen from the bar. “Dude! That is epic!”
Wink and I jumped apart, and I snatched up the cookie with my shifter reflexes and shoved it into my mouth. Only the tip of the penis fit—ironic—so Wink grabbed the other half of the cookie and ate that.
Leander’s smirk was wide and mischievous as he folded his arms over his chest and leaned his hip on the counter. “Don’t pretend that wasn’t the sexiest cookie I’ve ever seen.” He turned to look at Mr. Jorgensen over his shoulder. “Hey, boss, did you know Wink here is a genuine NSFW artist?”
“Oh?” Our boss came over, looking around for evidence, but all he found were crumbs.
Wink groaned, rubbing at his face, and he probably thought he was about to get fired from yet another job. I had a feeling he was about to be pleasantly surprised. Sure enough, Mr. Jorgensen said, “You know, I’ve got an order for a bachelor party coming up. Do you think you could decorate some naughty cookies for us?”
Wink lowered his hands from his face and blinked a few times, waiting for the punch line of the joke. “Seriously?”
“Yeah! I’d love to sell some naughty cookies in the bar too—after café hours only, of course, but they could make a fortune. What do you say? Do you want a job?”
Wink’s smile was so wide and genuine, and I felt it all the way down to my toes. “I say you have a deal.”
15
Wink
When I’d first been rejected by Santa, fired, kicked out of the North Pole and sent to live out my existence as an ornament, I really hadn’t expected any of this. How could I? This was beyond even my wildest dreams!
I’d been raised at the North Pole, taught that to work for Santa was the ultimate goal, but this… was so much better. I hadn’t really been happy there, I could admit that now, but as angry as I’d been at the big guy, he’d also been right. I hadn’t belonged there at all. This was where I was meant to be.
It was Sunday night, and all was quiet at The Pie Bar and Distillery. It was the only day of the week that the bar was closed, and Derek and I had decided it was the perfect time to get caught up on some of the cookie orders.
“Cookies After Dark” had taken off far better than anyone could’ve expected, with barely any elf magic required. It wasn’t just for bachelor parties either. People had started traveling from neighboring towns topick up orders, and Mr. Jorgensen had even opened up an online shop. Business was booming!
“Here, this batch is ready for you,” Derek said, sliding a tray over for me. He was manning the oven.
I picked up the piping bag but got distracted when I caught sight of him stirring the batter for the next batch. He’d rolled his sleeves up, his forearms flexing.
“You know, that hairnet looks really sexy on you,” I purred, turning to take in the full sight of him. He flashed me a skeptical look, eyebrow raised. “Mm, and the way the apron strings crisscross over your ass…”
He laughed and grabbed a pinch of flour, throwing it my way, but of course it floated harmlessly to the floor. I sucked in my lower lip, prowling toward him, icing bag still in hand. “You know, I think I might need another peek at my model before I finish icing these.”
“Oh dear, have you forgotten what I look like?” he asked coyly, setting down the bowl and spoon, and when he turned around, my eyes zeroed in on the bulge in his apron.
“Yep. It’s been so long…” I sighed, as if so hard done by, when in fact, it had only been a couple hours since I last had him. I just couldn’t get enough of him.
He pulled on the apron string, untying the bow with one yank. “If I must,” he said, far too easy-breezy, when I could see the tension clearly building in him, the heat kindling in his gaze. Oh yeah, he was hot for me.
“You must,” I insisted.
He removed his apron, then his shirt, in the slowest, hottest strip tease ever. He took the time to fold his shirt and set it on the counter. “Do you want me to pose for you?” He struck a dramatic pose draped back, hand to his forehead, then flexed his muscles for me.
“You shouldn’t tease the artist. Don’t you know how moody he can get?” I gestured with my chin. “Pants too.”
“So demanding.” But he obliged, undoing his belt then lowering the zipper, one tooth at a time. I could feel my precum soaking into my boxers.
When Derek finally stood in front of me, pants around his ankles in all his nude glory, erection thick and weeping, I finally allowed myself to close the distance. He shuffled one step back. “What about you? You’re still dressed.”