His Christmas Gift - Cassandra Dee

1

Laurie

I hate using Tinder. There’s something that’s just so depressing about on-line dating. Swipe left, swipe right, and the faces start blurring together. My hopes are always high in the beginning, only to come crashing down after five minutes.

Despite that, I was hoping luck would find me late this Christmas season. Sometimes I feel like the Grinch because I hate spending the holidays single. Of course, I’m not technically alone because I have my family, but the questions I get from various people asking about my relationship status are just so depressing.

“Have you met anyone nice?” my Aunt Carrie clucked last year. “You know, your cousin Harriet is already married with a baby on the way, and you girls are the same age!”

I smiled wanly at my aunt.

“Harriet was really lucky to meet Dominic while they were in high school, but unfortunately, I haven’t been so lucky. But I know Father Christmas is going to bring me an awesome man this year.”

Of course, Santa did not bring me an awesome man, which is why I’m single again this holiday season. Yet, hope springs eternal because tonight I have a date. The guy that I’m meeting, according to his Tinder profile, is named Shawn Payne. He was supposedly twenty-six, with dark hair, azure eyes, and he likes to keep his body in good shape. I say “supposedly” because you never know if you’re getting trolled. Maybe Shawn was actually a twelve-year-old boy living down the street who was pranking people for fun.

But Shawn looked like a dream on the computer screen at least. He was built, with a chiseled, powerful frame, and towered over his friends in the one group photo he’d posted. Nice. I like tall men, especially when they have cocky smiles.

Plus, we’d been talking frequently ever since connecting about a week ago. He was like me: a Los Angelino focused on building a career. One big reason why I’d swiped right was because he was employed by the magazine industry, just like me. However, whereas I had a stable job, Shawn was unfortunately hopping from place to place. I was a little self-conscious about our age gap—I was thirty to his twenty-six—but considering he’d been awfully flirty with me since we matched, I didn’t worry too much.

I arranged to have our Tinder date at a hotel bar in downtown L.A. Maybe we’d have some drinks, chat for a bit, and if things went well, we could get a room at the hotel for the night. I was dressed particularly sexy in a dark blouse that exposed a lot of back and cleavage, and a short dark skirt that complemented my curves.

So when Shawn turned out to be even better looking in person than in his photos, I was ecstatic. He was genuinely tall and handsome, and the button-up shirt and jeans emphasized that perfect masculine physique. We shook hands, he took his seat next to me at the bar, and we engaged in unimportant small talk.

After only a few minutes, I could tell that Shawn was a major playboy. This kind of date was not new to him, and he knew how to talk smoothly. To be honest, the alpha attitude worried me a little. If things went to the bedroom, would he listen to me? Or was everything going to happen his way? On the one hand, it made me nervous. On the other hand, I was titillated and wanted to find out more.

Taking a deep breath, I tried not to let things get away from me, and attempted to focus on what I knew. There was definitely an obvious, instant, and intense desire going on between us. Our words meant nothing because body language did the talking for us. We couldn’t keep our eyes off each other, and the air hummed with electricity. Every whisper and every word seemed to be an invitation.

In less than an hour, we paid for our drinks and headed up the elevator to Room 508.

The moment the door closed behind us, Shawn and I began to kiss furiously. He ran his hands up my skirt, and I ran my hands along his body under his shirt. His pecs were hard slabs of muscle, solid and firm. I ripped off his shirt and pants quickly and kissed every inch of him that my lips could get to. He slowly removed my blouse, tenderly but firmly caressing every part of me that he could reach.

He was the hottest guy I’d ever met on Tinder,