Katie
Allen, Jackie Barbosa, Christine D’Abo, Lacy Danes,
Karen
Erickson, Anna Leigh Keaton, TJ Michaels, Emma Petersen,
Alisha
Rai, Amy Ruttan, Amie Stuart, and Raine Weaver
Twelfth Night
Katie Allen, Jackie Barbosa, Christine D’Abo, Lacy Danes, Karen Erickson, Anna Leigh Keaton, TJ Michaels, Emma Petersen, Alisha Rai, Amy Ruttan, Amie Stuart, and Raine Weaver
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2010 Katie Allen, Jackie Barbosa, Christine D’Abo, Lacy Danes, Karen Erickson, Anna Leigh Keaton, TJ Michaels, Emma Petersen, Alisha Rai, Amy Ruttan, Amie Stuart, and Raine Weaver
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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Christmas Spice
by
Anna Leigh Keaton
Vicky opened the door and grinned at her late arrivals. One of her employees, Anita, held a tray of what smelled like her delicious, spicy tamales. Her two granddaughters she’d brought along each held brightly wrapped packages.
“Hola, Anita,” Vicky said with a grin as she held out her arms to hug the girls. They fell against her legs, laughing and squeezing. “Feliz Navidad. Come in, come in. Oh, don’t you girls look so pretty tonight? Why don’t you guys put those under the tree and find Paul and Heather’s little girl? She’s around here somewhere.”
“Thanks, Aunt Vicky,” they chimed before dashing over to the big tree set in the corner of the living room.
“Ah, Anita. I told you you didn’t have to bring anything,” Vicky said, taking the platter from her friend.
“You know I go nowhere without food, especially on Christmas.” She grinned and came through the door before Vicky shut it.
“So glad you could make it. How’d your family take you running off like this?”
The older woman grinned. “We had our meal this afternoon, and now they are cleaning while I have more party time.”
“Hey, Anita!” Paul called across the slightly crowded room.. “Glad you could make it.”
“Hola, Paul. Heather,” she added with a slight nod and a big smile for the couple who’d become her friends as well over the last couple of years.
Vicky introduced Anita to a couple more friends as they walked through the living room, and Anita stopped to give Denise, another worker at the salon, a quick hug.
A warm glow infused Vicky’s heart as she made room to set the platter of tamales on the overloaded table. She’d made a mountain of food to start with, and though she told all her friends no one needed to bring anything, they hadn’t listened. So besides the turkey and ham slices, fresh-baked dinner rolls, two platters of cheeses and crackers, and four kinds of pies, there were cookies, cakes, and now Anita’s mouthwatering tamales.
To be surrounded by her friends on Christmas was the best present she could ever hope for. Taking the tin foil off Anita’s platter, she reached for a knife from the pile of cutlery on the end of the table to cut them in half so what was supposed to be finger foods was small enough to fit on the little plates. At least she knew better for next year. She’d get dinner-sized plates. It didn’t seem to matter that almost everyone there had already had a meal at home with their own families, they still stuffed themselves. With a grin, she set to work slicing through the still-hot tamales.
A big hand closed over her upper left arm in a tight grip, and a raspy voice whispered in her ear, “If you don’t want a scene, I suggest you come with me now.”
Vicky swallowed hard. She knew that voice, and a tingle skittered down her spine. She gripped the knife harder, until her knuckles turned white. “Detective Drake,” she said coolly. “How’d you get in here?”
“Put down the knife, Victoria. Now,” he growled in her ear.
She must have hesitated too long, because his other hand came around her and gripped her wrist, hard, until she dropped the knife and gasped. His front pressed into her back, and she silently cursed the effect his long, hard body had on her.
“Don’t test me, woman. If you don’t want all your happy little friends to know what you are, you’ll come quietly.”
She looked to the side, toward the living room where ten of her closest friends sat around talking and laughing—and ignoring the fact that she was being accosted by a sleazy cop.
“The garage door,” he whispered in her ear, making goose bumps rise on her bare arms. “Too many people between here and the front door.”
“They’ll notice I’m gone,” she warned under her breath.
“Trust me, this won’t take long.”
“Fuck you,” she muttered.
He ran one hand up the center of her back and wrapped long fingers around the back of her neck. “Move, Victoria, or else.”
Her high heels clicked over the tiles of the kitchen. She cast one last glance back at everyone in the living room, but no one seemed to notice what was happening to her. Her tummy quivered as she reached for the doorknob, but she hesitated. “Couldn’t you wait until tomorrow?”
He gave her neck a bit of a squeeze, enough to prompt her to turn the knob and open the door. The motion detector light clicked on over her pickup truck, and she wondered if there was any way to get out of his grip for the moments it would take to jump into the truck and lock him out.
“Don’t even think about it,” he growled as he gave her a gentle push down the three steps to the concrete floor. The door shut behind them, and her heart beat sped.
“What do you want from me?”
He let go of her neck, and she made to bolt, but he grabbed her right arm and twisted it behind her back. Before she could whirl on him and land a fist…somewhere, the cold metallic clasp closed around her wrist with a sickening click.
“Son of a bitch!” she cried, struggling to get away from him, fighting to keep her left arm out of his grasp.
He shoved her up against the front quarter panel of the truck and pinned her there between the cold, hard metal and his warm, solid body. It took one slight twist to her right arm he had pinned until she gave up. He grabbed her left wrist, brought it behind her back, and snapped it into the other handcuff.
Then he turned her to face him, pressed his front to hers, still pinning her to the truck. “Where are they?”
She snarled.
“Tell me now, Victoria, and save yourself.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her heart raced faster. The fact she could feel his hard-on pressing into her belly didn’t help. As usual, the bastard was horny.
“The shipment of emeralds. Only you didn’t stop with the rocks this time, did you? You took out the courier, too.” He clasped a hand over her neck and tilted her face up. “Where. Are. They.”
She gritted her teeth. “I. Don’t. Know.”
He squeezed his hand a bit, tightening it around her throat. “Don’t fucking lie to me, woman. I know your handiwork when I see it. What, did the courier not give up the goods fast enough? We found him, but not the rocks. Now, last chance, where are they?”
She hissed then bucked her hips out, trying to dislodge him, but he was a big sucker and barely moved. All it did was rub the fly of his jeans over her, pressing his erecting into her harder.
“My husband—“
“Ah, yes. I heard you got married. Does the sap know what you do for a living?”
“I run a respectable business, you asshole.”
“Ah, yeah, your business front. Cute. We’ll see how long it takes the feds to figure out your little hair cutting joint is just a cover for a multi-million dollar theft ring.” He rubbed his crotch against her, ground his cock against her mound. “Damn, you’re still one hot diamond thief.”
“I thought it was emeralds,” she said with enough attitude to make any teenager proud. Even so, her pussy throbbed, and her nipples grew hard.
He leaned in close, until she felt his warm breath on her cheek. “I want my cut.”
“Dirty cop,” she spat.
His lips, so warm and delicious, pressed against hers. She growled and tried to pull back, but that hand around her throat held her in place. When she opened her mouth to yell, his tongue swept in, stealing not only her voice but her breath.
God, the asshole could kiss.
She bit his lip.
He pulled back with a curse. “You bitch!” He swiped the back of his other hand, the one not holding her throat, over his mouth.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Sticks and stones…”
He glared, his forest green eyes narrowed. “You’re going to pay for that.” Without warning, that free hand dove up under her dress and pressed against her pussy.
Her knees wobbled, and she swallowed her moan. She’d never been able to say no to this man. Not ever. When his middle finger pushed aside the tiny scrap of her panties and swiped through her already damp lips, she forced herself to stare into his eyes, to not let him see what just one touch from one finger did to her entire body.
But he saw. His gaze dropped to her chest as her nipples turned into hard little points pushing against the silky fabric of her cocktail dress.
“Slut.”
She growled.
“You know you like it. You want it, don’t you?”
“Go. To. Hell!”
“Meet you there, babe.” He shoved two fingers deep into her core, and she couldn’t stop the groan that escaped her lips. Her inner muscles milked his fingers as he teased her G-spot with an expertise that still made her head spin even after all this time. When he leaned down and nipped her nipple right through her dress, she cried out and thrust her hips against his hand.
“Stop,” she cried. “God, stop. I can’t. I’ll tell you where the emeralds are.” Her body said she could, though, and she was so ready for him. So hot. So damn wet.
“Too late. You had your chance.”
“No-o-o” she sobbed, but not a cry of tears. One of being so close to climax it had turned to agony. She hated him. Hated him with a passion. But that passion was so easy for him to turn to hot, burning lust.
He nipped her other nipple, and she cried out as the hot zip of the orgasm speared through her.
He chuckled as he let go of her throat and caught her just before she would have landed in a heap on the floor, her legs refusing to keep her upright. She lay limp in his arms, refusing to help him hold her, and he carried her to the end of the truck, dropped the tailgate and unceremoniously plopped her down on it. The cold metal on her legs made her hiss and brought her out of the orgasmic stupor. She kicked off her shoes and went to jump off the back of the truck, but he caught her and pinned her down across the tailgate, his big hand in the center of her chest as he flipped the skirt of her dress up over her belly.
She tried kicking sideways, to get him with at least her knee, but he swatted her thigh hard enough to really sting.
“Don’t make me turn you over and turn your ass red, Victoria. You know I’ll do it.”
Oh, she knew all right, and just the thought of that made her pussy tighten in want. Damn him!
The best she could hope for was to roll to the side, but she couldn’t escape. With her hands bound behind her back in the God damned handcuffs, if she rolled off the end of the truck bed, all she’d get was her face smashed into the concrete floor. She bent her knees, planted her feet on the tailgate, and heaved against his hold.
“Fuck, Victoria, those gotta be the sexiest little panties I’ve ever seen.” And then he ripped her Victoria’s Secret thong right in two.
She screamed in fury and shoved up, using what leverage she could from her hands, and tried biting his arm.
He laughed, turned his body sideways just a bit—fuck him for being so tall he could do that standing on the ground—and laid his middle right over hers. “Been a while since I tasted this gorgeous cunt.”
“Don’t!” she screamed, thrusting her hips up again, wiggling, trying to dislodge him from her.
“You don’t mean that.” He clasped his hands on her thighs and forced them apart a second before his hot mouth settled over her even hotter pussy.
He moaned as if it were the best thing he’d ever tasted, and when the vibration from his pleasure rumbled through her, she gave up the fight. She didn’t mean it.
He suckled, licked, slipped his fingers inside of her and pumped while he flicked the tip of his tongue over her clit.
Vicky moaned, writhed, but in need, not fight. She bit her tongue to keep from crying out her need. She wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.
“I hate you,” she growled, even as her hips rose to meet his mouth, her body begging for what her voice never would. A light sheen of sweat burst out on her chest and forehead as the climax grew and grew, getting closer and closer. Just as she was about to fall over the edge, he pulled away.
“Finish it,” she cried, then bit down hard on her bottom lip, appalled she’d said that.
Without a word, he turned her—easy to do on the bed of her shiny new pickup—and flipped her over on her belly, half her body dangling over the edge of the tailgate. Only her toes touched the cold concrete of the floor. When she tried to stand, he pressed his hand between her shoulder blades and shoved her down.
“Let me go, you fucking dirty cop!”
She heard the slight clink of his belt buckle, then the quick pop, pop, pop, pop of his button fly being ripped open.
“I’ll show you how dirty I can fuck,” he said, his voice so low and raspy it made her scalp tighten and her nipples tingle. And then he was in her, hard and without ceremony.
She cried out in relief as he stretched her, filled her.
He still held her down, pinned to the bed of the truck, the hard, cold metal digging into her hips, her ribs, her breasts. The pain was delicious juxtaposed to the hot length of his cock thrusting into her so hard, so damn perfectly.
No, she shouldn’t let him do this! She tried to raise up, but his strength was too overpowering. She kicked back with one foot, caught him in the shin hard enough that he hissed. But in the next second, just before she took another swing, his free hand came down hard on her ass sending a hot jolt of lighting through her. Another hard slap followed the first, and she cried out.
She prayed he didn’t know how good the pain was.
He slapped her again then pressed one finger against her anus.
“No,” she screamed, knowing he knew just the thing she needed to come.
“Yes,” he hissed between his teeth. He slapped again, never breaking the hard, driving rhythm of his thrusts, then teased her anus again.
“Oh, fuck,” she cried as the orgasm came barreling at her. She couldn’t fight it. God help her, she didn’t want to fight it.
“That’s right. Dirty. Fucking. Cop.” With each word, he thrust his cock so deep it tried to reach her soul.
She screamed, and every muscle of her body tightened as the climax struck, sustained, went on and on just as he did, driving into her, through her, becoming part of her.
He gave a short shout of “Oh, fuck,” drove deep, and stayed there. His cock pulsed, her pussy quivered. Her whole body went lax against the unforgiving truck bed.
His hand moved from her back, his forehead rested on her shoulder, his breath sawing as hard as hers.
She giggled. He chuckled and unlocked the cuffs, removing them from her wrists.
Her limbs feeling as if they weighed a thousand pounds, she shoved herself over onto her back, squirming farther onto the bed until only her legs below her knees dangled off the end of the tailgate. He rested his cheek against her belly and wrapped his arms around her.
“Never called me a bitch before,” she said, then laughed.
He chuckled again and squeezed her tight. “Dirty fucking cop was a nice touch.”
He stood up and took her hands, pulling her into a seated position. Then he pulled her forward and kissed her deep. She tasted passion on his lips and moaned as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She pulled back slightly and sifted her fingers through her husband’s silky hair.
“You think they’re missing us yet?”
He gave her a wicked who-gives-a-shit grin and shrugged.
She laughed and scooted closer to him, wrapping her legs around his and laying her head on his shoulder. She spotted her Victoria’s Secrets lying in a small heap on the floor. “You owe me a pair of underwear…again.”
He laughed and hugged her close. “They were pretty damn sexy.”
“Uh huh.” Closing her eyes, she reveled in the light brush of his hands up and down her back. “I love you, Detective.”
“Mmm. I love you, too, sweetheart.”
“You know, Detective Drake is still my favorite. And dang, did it get my blood going when he made an appearance at the Christmas party.”
He chuckled again and lifted her from the tailgate and set her on her feet.
She stepped into her heels, and he spun her toward him. “I guess we should get back to our guests, huh?”
She nodded and placed her hands on his chest. “We did invite them, you know. But I think you better go wash your face first.”
He laughed at that then leaned in and murmured in her ear, “And you have cum dripping down your thighs, don’t you?”
She thumped the side of her fist against his chest. “Nasty man.”
“That’s dirty fucking cop to you, bitch.”
They laughed together and hugged.
“Merry Christmas,” he whispered in her ear.
“This was my Christmas present?”
“Mmm. Part of it, anyway.”
“Not bad,” she said with a grin. “What’s the other part?”
“You don’t get that until our friends leave.”
She put on a pout, which made him reach around and pop her on the butt.
“Give me a hint?”
He raised an eyebrow in censure.
“Does it involve…candles or a flogger?”
His laugh was deep that time. “Maybe a little of both, you naughty woman. Maybe it even involves emeralds.”
Her eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to ask him if he was serious, but he pulled away and took her hand, tugging her along toward the door. It hadn’t even been locked, she realized when he turned the knob and pulled it open. The fun was over, but another little thrill shot through her at the thought they could have been caught.
They slipped into the small bathroom off the hallway and did a quick cleanup. Vicky straightened her hair as best she could, and then they were out rejoining their friends.
Their friend Paul, a real cop, was in the kitchen with the refrigerator door open when they entered. He gave them both a quick up and down glance, snickered, and asked, “Have fun?”
Vicky’s face heated a little, but her husband, brash as always said, “Oh, yeah,” then laughed when he glanced at Vicky.
“Here it is,” Paul said, pulling out two bottles of champagne he and his wife, Heather, had brought. “I say it’s time for a little bubbly.”
For the next few minutes, the three of them poured glasses of champagne then handed them out to all the adults. The kids were off in the spare bedroom making lots of noise, but that was okay. Vicky and Drake had stocked it full to brimming with toys for all their friends’ kids to play with when they came to visit. It gave the adults more adult time.
Once everyone held a glass of sparkling amber in their hands, Paul lifted his. “To our makeshift family. We might not be related by blood, but we’re bonded through friendship. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” everyone cheered.
Vicky took the tiniest sip from her glass, no more than wet her lips really.
“You don’t like it?” Drake asked softly, motioning to her glass with his.
“Oh, it’s good,” she murmured. “Very good. But…umm…well…” She grinned, and that warm, soft feeling flowed through her again. She leaned in and whispered, “We need to make room for one more at next year’s party.”
Drake didn’t say anything, so she pulled back to look into his face. His confusion showed by his pulled brows and slight frown.
She rolled her eyes and took his empty hand in hers, then set it over her belly.
His eyes widened, his lips parted.
She grinned. “Merry Christmas,” she whispered.
The kiss he gave her was the softest, most gentle expression of love she’d ever experienced. Of course, then it was followed by him swooping her into his arms, spinning her in a circle and whooping like some made-for-television cowboy.
“It looks like she finally told him,” Anita said to the group of friends. “About time. Silly man didn’t even know she put on ten pounds.”
The living room filled with laughter, hugs and tears.
She got separated from Drake, but from across the room Vicky caught her husband’s eye. He winked. She knew no matter how long they were married, or what might change in their lives, he’d always give her the spice she craved.
The End
Author Bio
Anna Leigh Keaton is an award-winning, best-selling author of erotic romance. She's written over thirty novels, novellas and short stories all available at Cobblestone Press. You can read excerpts of her work at http://www.annaleighkeaton.com or check out her mainstream romance at http:://www.leannekarella.com.
A Perfect Fit
by Lacy Danes
I pinch the key card between my fingers and thumb. I inhale deep. You can do it. I slide the thin plastic into the lock on the large mahogany hotel room door. Staring at the little light, I count “One… two… three… four.” The tone flashes green and the door clicks. I let my breath out and close my eyes as I reach out my other hand to the handle.
“My Christmas present,” you said.
Clutching the brass doorknob, I push down and the door clicks open.
“A fantasy come true.” The words ring in my mind in your deep penetrating voice.
I am wearing my best pink panties, thigh high stockings, and bra beneath my warm winter coat. I step into a room made of luxury. The white marble floors glimmer, reflecting the only light in the room, a fire that burns in the fireplace. I step further in, and the door closes with a click…
The sound echoes in my mind. I am here. There is no turning back.
I have no idea what fantasy you have chosen to make true for me. All I know is that this is why I so adore you. You are truly the love of my life. The hairs on my arms tingle as I remember other fantasies—both yours and mine—that we have made come to life.
“Take off your coat.” Your deep voice washes me in heat.
I set down my bag and unbutton the front of my jacket, letting it fall to the floor before I turn to you.
“Very nice.” The curve of your lips quirks up.
I stand in the entry to the room and glance around. There is a large bed in the center of the room before the fire and on the far end a white pedestal tub. You sit on a small stool in between the two. The fireplace flickers, and your skin glows in a red tinge. Handsome devil.
“Walk to the bed and take out the items I requested you bring.”
I pick up my black duffle bag, pushing my bottom out toward you, then turn and walk. With each step, my heels click on the marble floor. I stop at the edge of the bed. From here I can see your blue eyes, and you lean forward and place your elbows on your knees, your hands on your chin. Observing me.
I hold in a smile, and my muscles relax. I am so happy to see you. I set my bag on the bed and pull the zipper open. Reaching inside, I pull out the black leather hog tie. I place it on the bed and smile. Then I pull out a blindfold, leather cuffs for my wrists and ankles, and my favorite vibrator.
“Good girl. Sit on the edge of the bed.”
I turn around and sit. The soft micro-suede cover coolly caresses the bare skin between the top of my stockings and my underwear. My core is already steaming in anticipation of your surprise.
You step up in front of me and lean in. The scent of you, a mix of Duc de Vervins and arousal makes me tremble. Your lips brush mine soft, tender. I return the brush and sigh.
Your fingers trail along the strap of my bra. “Take off you underwear and bra.” The scent of coffee hangs on your breath. The scent I associate with you, as you drink more coffee than anyone I know. You step back, letting the always warm air between us cool.
I slowly lower my straps down, then reach around and unhook the clasp. I take the bra and lay it on the bed with the other items. Grabbing the left hip of my undies, I lower the thin fabric strap, lifting my bottom at the same time and arching my hips towards you.
“Lovely. There will be plenty of pleasure tonight. No need to worry.” You lean over and pick up the blindfold. You hold the black strap of leather above my eyes. “Ready for the magic to begin?”
“Yes.” My tongue slides out and touches my lips. I trust you implicitly. In the four years we have known each other, you have never once done anything to betray my trust or endanger me.
The blindfold lowers over my eyes. Thick leather and soft silk rest against my cheeks. The soft fabric bunches in all the places that light could possibly get through. I am in the dark and can now only hear, taste, smell, and feel.
“Don’t move.” You step away from me, and the air rushes by me.
I hold still. The only thing moving is my chest as I breathe in and out. I hear a door click open. Then close. Foot falls sound on the floor. Yet I sit so very still. What did you go get? Did you open the closet door? Or the door to the hall? Cloth rustles off to my right and then nothing. Silence…
I know this is part of the play. Heightening my senses. Tricking my mind. I love it. My heart beats wildly in anticipation. We have played the blindfold game before, but something about this night is different as we have always done this sort of thing at home.
A light touch grazes the inside of my right knee and presses, sliding my legs apart. A whirrrr echoes in the room.
My heart jumps once more. The vibrator. I relax. Pleasure is on the way.
The curved pointy edge gently plays with the lips of my cunt. A moan bursts from my lips, and I thrust my hips towards you, wanting a harder pressure against my clit. You oblige.
The vibration cycles through me, and my hips spread farther. Wetness leaks down my opening and onto the coverlet below me.
Your hand presses to my shoulder and urges me back down on the bed.
I comply, shifting my hips and spreading my legs farther apart so the vibrator has direct access to my sensitive flesh. I relax into the plush mattress. The vibrator continues to whizz on my cunt, and your hand moves lower slipping from my shoulder down my collarbone then gently circles the round swell of my breast.
Tingles shoot from my breast to my cunt, and I arch my hips towards you. Oh, that is amazing. Your fingers continue to weigh my breast and fingers pinch my other nipple. Oh! Those were nails! Pain spikes down my body. I arch and moan deep.
The nails circle my nipple twisting the hard point between the tips.
“Oh!” You are not alone. Three hands caress me, and I have no idea if they are even yours.
No one speaks. Concentrating hard, I can make out three distinct breaths in the room.
Another hand slides down my body to the small patch of hair I have just above my clit. There is a pinch and then a pull of my hairs. My pussy quivers, and I bite my lip. Oh, yes. I love that sensation.
“Open your mouth, sweet.” Your voice comes to the left of my head. I open my lips, and my jaw follows. I leave my lips open in the shape of an O.
The bed depresses, and your scent overcomes me as you lay down. Your stomach by my face. Legs down my left side. Your hands grip my hair. The other hands continue their tasks. “Ready to take it, Brianna?”
I nod my head. Not moving my lips and obeying you explicitly.
The hot tip of your cock touches to my open mouth. I want this. I want to please you and know that in doing so…I please me. My tongue slides out, and saliva pools heavy under my tongue.
You press slowly in. A mix of salty sweat and the tang of arousal fills my mouth.
I love the taste of you. I lick and flick my tongue on each inch you give to me. My hands, still free from any of the restraints I brought with me, tremble as I hold them still. I know you will tell me when I can touch. If I will be permitted to touch at all this night. I am slightly surprised you have not bound me yet as it is one of your favorite things to do to me.
Your hips thrust forward in a slow steady pulse. In my mind, I see your butt clenching, and I so want to touch you.
The vibrator between my legs clicks off and the touch that was in my tuft of hair slips lower into my slickness. The finger is smaller than yours with longer fingernail. A woman. There is no doubt in my mind.
The other person steps between my legs. The brush of coarse male hairs tickles the insides of my thighs. A couple perhaps?
I hear foil tear and the crinkling sound of a rubber rolling on. I continue to focus on you and you continue to slowly fuck my mouth. Your cock gently pops over my lips. Not going deep. Simply teasing yourself. The man’s cock between my legs slides easily into my cunt, stretching my over-sensitized flesh.
I jerk slightly, and your hand tightens in my hair.
He is just as wide as you are, and I tremble. I have always fantasized about doing something exactly like this. You know full well my fantasy. My tongue flutters faster as you continue to slip in and out of my mouth. This is what makes us special. This play we do. Never in my life have I given myself over so implicitly to a man. Yet I know you will always take care of me.
The other man grasps my hips, lifting me slightly, and he pulls his cock out of me. I squirm, feeling open naked and exposed. This is so exhilarating. You know I have an exhibitionist streak and not seeing the expressions on these people faces as they gaze at me is agony.
The woman’s hand gently touches the round swell of my bottom, and then she drags her nails around the curve and into the crack of my ass. A slick finger presses to my butt hole, and with little resistance, slips in. Oh, yes. I groan and push my bottom towards the hand. The finger slips farther in and then pumps in and out of me at an alternating pace.
I adore anal, and my body explodes in sensation once more. An orgasm surprises me, pulsing my cunt and jerking my body. You pull out of my mouth. Your hand still in my hair you twist it pulling my strands taut in your grip. “Tisk, tisk.”
I was not supposed to come, and your warning washes through me. I frown, but know you won’t stop. You have planned this to the letter and me coming without you saying to will not stop this. Thank God.
A cold object presses to my bottom and slowly my anus stretches. My skin blooms wide around the bulbous shape and then descends slightly, resting on a wide shaft. The object is then pressed up inside of me. My muscles spark hot and tickle cold.
I shake as bit by bit the dildo slips up into my anus. A wide round end snugly fits to the flesh of my bottom, pushing my cheeks wide.
A cool leather strap wraps about my thigh and tightens and another about the other thigh. The plug or dildo is securely fastened in side of me.
The man between my legs reenters my cunt, and my legs jerk. He hisses out a breath. Oh I am full. So full. The pressure is delightful. I pull my head slightly against your grip in my hair. Wanting more from you. Wanting reassurance. One of your hands slips down and rests on my shoulder. Your fingers slip under me and roll me. The man simultaneously lies down next to me, not slipping from my cunt.
Grabbing my thigh he pulls my leg up over his hip and continues with deep strokes that massage the inner wall of my cunt. My muscles tighten and pleasure spikes to my toes. Lights flash behind my eyelids. I will come again and soon. More wetness squirts from me, and with each press into my cunt, I can hear his vigor.
The woman lies down behind me. Her petite curves and strong muscular legs grind against my back. Small breasts press to my shoulder blade and then vanish. Fingernails press to my knee and then rake up the top of my thigh. The trail burns as if branded. The sensation is electric. The hairs on my arms stand on end, and I moan deep.
Your fingers trail over my cheek, calling my attention back to you.
She parts her leg over my hip and then pushes down the plug in my bottom moves and the woman groans behind me. She pulls her hips up and then down again. The dildo has to be the kind that is double ended. As she rides the cock at my back the one lodged deep with in me rocks sways and trembles with her. The man at my front has not stopped his fucking and you…you keep your fist tightly on my hair. Reminding me you are in control.
The woman’s fingers undo the straps of the plug fitted securely inside me. A slight tug pulls the dildo but does not dislodge it. She moves and shifts and rubs against me all the while the dildo inside me moves the same. A remarkable and erotic friction I have never known. Oh,my!
She pulls her hips back and the dildo pulls out of me. She has strapped herself to the harness. She will fuck me. My breath comes quick and I swallow hard. Heat busts to my face. With alternating thrusts from the man in the front she slowly moves within me. Pleasure so strong rushes up my body. My nipples harden painfully. I jerk, my body arching first forward, and then back.
You lean down. Your tongue traces my lips. “So good, sweet. You are so good for me. Now kiss me. And come.”
My body knowing those words shatters. My cunt erupts, and I squirt liquid in a gush on the man fucking me. I cry out and whimper as my muscles continue to contract on the hard cocks slipping in and out of me.
Your lips come down in a harsh kiss. Your teeth nip my lower lip and then trace the pucker with your tongue. I press up hungrily wanting you…wanting you to take me, to fuck me into oblivion. I love you so much, and this, this play is a part of who we are.
The man’s body jerks, and he hisses as his cock throbs deep inside me. The woman abruptly stops and slowly pulls out of me. You continue to kiss me softly, tenderly. The bed depresses and then lightens. There is a rustling of fabric. A door opens and then clicks. You lie down beside me, and your fingers tug the blindfold up and off my head. I blink.
Your intense blue eyes stare into mine and you smile. “I love you, sweet, and vow to make all your fantasies come true. Even those that are a bit odd.” You wink at me.
“Mine? Odd?” I grin up at you, “You are one dirty old man.”
“Indeed I am. You love me for it.” Your hand tugs into my hair again.
“Yes.” My hands reach up and slide into your thick black hair. “Yes, I do.”
You part my legs and slip your hard cock inside my cunt. I groan. We fit together so very well in all ways, and this night has truly just begun. Happiness glitters in your eyes and slowly your lips press to mine and pull back.
“We are not simply lovers, sweet. We are partners and friends.”
I kiss you back, knowing we will prove this to each other over and over for the rest of our lives.
The End
The Best Santa Ever
By Katie Allen
“Santa? Fuck that.”
Melanie sighed. She’d expected this reaction. It would’ve been easier to ask Alexander Brooks to dress up like Satan—more fitting, too. “But you’re our last hope. Please, Xan?”
His scowl darkened to near pre-dentist-appointment levels. “Pick someone else.”
“There isn’t anyone else,” she told him. “George always does it, but he’s still in the hospital. Mike, Daphne’s husband, was going to take his place, but he’s stuck in St. Paul. All the flights are cancelled because of the snow.”
“Then George is already there. Tell him to go down a couple floors, say a few ho’s, and go back to bed.”
Melanie stared at him. “George just had a heart attack.”
“A mild one,” he grumbled, although he dropped his gaze.
“George is out,” she said firmly. “Come on, Xan. It’ll be a half-hour out of your life, and then you’re free to continue your beard- and belly-free existence. It’s for kids. Sick kids.” She waited a second and then added, “Really, really sick kids.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Xan leaned his shoulders against the wall. Melanie wished he wouldn’t do that. It brought out the definition in his arms, making her even more aware of how disgustingly hot he really was.
“Can’t you hire someone who does this professionally?” He grimaced. “Some guy who likes all this Christmas shit?”
Christmas shit? She almost laughed at that. “There’s no time. The party’s tomorrow night, and all the Santa possibilities are already booked. It’s prime professional Santa time, and I wasn’t kidding when I said you’re our last hope.”
“Why can’t you do it?”
“Well, for one, the kids don’t need to be confused by Santa in drag,” she said. “Plus, I’m too short.”
His eyes flicked down her body, and she felt a flush of heat rise beneath her skin. “Yeah,” he agreed grudgingly. “You’re more elf-sized.”
Melanie drew herself up to her full five-feet-and-one-inch height. “A tall elf, maybe,” she protested.
His scowl wavered, as if a smile was fighting to escape. “I don’t look like fucking Santa.”
Pressing back a triumphant grin, Melanie knew she had him. “You think?” she teased, giving his hard stomach a poke. “This is pretty close to a bowlful of jelly.” He growled, and she laughed. “Don’t worry. Daphne has the suit and beard and padding and everything. She’ll get you all white-haired and chubby.”
“Fuck,” he groaned, but Melanie could hear the resignation in his voice.
“So you’ll do it?” she asked.
He scowled at her for a few seconds before letting his arms fall to his sides in defeat. He gave her a grudging nod.
Unable to hold back a bounce of excitement, she threw her arms around him. “Thank you! You’re the best!” She’d meant for it to be a quick hug, but his arms wrapped around her, tucking her against the muscled body she’d been lusting after since she started working for him six months before. A broad hand slid down her back, leaving a trail of heat behind it. Melanie pulled back before she did something embarrassing, like ripping off his paint-smudged clothes and having her way with him.
“Um…so.” She wasn’t able to meet his eyes and instead focused on a smear of burnt umber decorating his t-shirt. “I’d better call my sister and let her know the crisis has been averted.” She turned toward the door that led to her office.
“Wait.” His voice stopped her and Melanie looked over her shoulder at him. “If I have to be fucking Santa, then you have to be there, too.”
“Of course.” She grinned. “Do you think I’d miss seeing this?”
He was smiling a little and Melanie felt suddenly uneasy. “You have to dress up like an elf,” he said.
Her smile dropped away. “You’re kidding, right?”
Shaking his head and grinning in earnest, Xan said, “Nope.”
“But…”
His mouth set in a stubborn line. “No elf, no Santa.”
Melanie stared at him, still not quite believing he was serious.
“Do it for the kids,” he told her, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips. “The really, really sick kids.”
He meant it. Xan wanted her to dress up in an elf suit. Melanie groaned and headed for her office door.
“So you’ll do it?” Xan called after her.
“Yes,” she snapped as she began pulling the door closed behind her. Melanie stopped and popped her head back into his studio. “You know, I’d never thought Santa could be such an ass.”
His laughter drifted through the door as she yanked it closed, hard enough to thump against the doorjamb.
*****
“He’s going to do it?”
Melanie winced and moved the phone away when Daphne’s excited shriek pierced her eardrum. “Yes, but there’s a catch,” she said, returning the phone to her ear.
“A catch? What kind of catch? Is he allergic to fake beard hair?”
“No,” Melanie said and then paused. “At least as far as I know. The catch is that he won’t do it unless I’m there.”
“Oh.” Daphne sounded relieved. “Well, that’s okay then. You were going to be there anyway.”
With a sigh, Melanie added, “Dressed like an elf.”
There was a brief silence, and then Daphne burst into laughter. “Oh Lord,” she wheezed as she tried to get her mirth under control. “That’s perfect. I didn’t realize your temperamental artist had such a good sense of humor.”
“He’s not temperamental as much as…crabby,” Melanie corrected. “And he’s not mine. And it’s not funny. Where am I supposed to get an elf suit by tomorrow night?”
Still giggling, Daphne told her, “Don’t worry about that. I have something I wore a few years ago to surprise Mike on Christmas Eve, so I’ve got you covered. Not very well covered, but beggar elves can’t be chooser elves.”
“What does that mean?” Melanie asked suspiciously. “Are you going to turn me into a slutty elf?”
“You’ll see,” Daphne chuckled. “I’ll bring it over to the studio tonight along with the Santa suit so both of you can try on your costumes. Wait ’til you see it. This elf outfit will definitely make your boss sit up and take notice.”
A hot flush rose in Melanie’s cheeks. She was grateful her sister wasn’t there to see it and mock her mercilessly. “I don’t want…” She trailed off, not able to even say it, since it was such a bald-faced lie.
“Don’t even start,” Daphne told her. “All you’ve been able to talk about for the past six months is this guy’s gorgeous eyes and body and face and ass—”
“I never said anything about his ass!” she protested, glancing uneasily at the door to the studio. It was closed, but who knew what Xan could hear from the other room?
“You’re totally in lust with him,” Daphne continued, running right over her sister’s interruption.
Fanning her face, which now felt like it was on fire, Melanie said, “I appreciate that he’s aesthetically pleasing, that’s all.”
Daphne’s snort held a world of disbelief.
“Okay,” Melanie conceded. “He’s hot. I admit that. He’s not interested, though, so it’s pointless.”
“Is he gay?”
“No,” Melanie sighed. “Just because a guy isn’t interested in me doesn’t mean he’s gay.”
With a skeptical grunt, Daphne said, “Any guy who doesn’t want you is either gay or nuts.”
“Thank you, darling sister.”
“He’ll reconsider after he sees you in this slutty-elf costume.”
Melanie’s fond smile fell away and she closed her eyes. “Kill me now, please.”
*****
Xan was an incredibly hot Santa.
Despite the padding, he was still the sexiest thing in a red suit. The white trim on his hat actually made his eyes appear even darker—almost black—and brought out his smoky sweep of lashes. Melanie swallowed and smoothed down her skirt.
There wasn’t much to smooth down. The white faux-fur trim ended at mid-thigh, leaving an excessive amount of red-and-white-striped tights showing. The dress wasn’t much better up top. No matter how much she tugged, there was still cleavage showing above the plush red fabric.
There’s probably more fabric in my hat than in this dress, she thought glumly, shifting in her heels—red, patent-leather Mary Janes, also supplied by an annoyingly amused Daphne, who’d stopped by the studio as promised, costumes in hand.
“You two look great,” Daphne announced, startling Melanie out of her thoughts. “Except you, Santa, need to smile. You’ll scare the kids.”
“Smiling was not part of the deal,” grumbled Xan.
“You agreed to play Santa,” Melanie corrected. “Santa smiles. A lot.”
He bared his teeth at them.
Melanie sighed. “Now that’s just scary.”
Daphne snorted a laugh. “I’d better run. Becky’ll be dropping the kids off at home soon. I’m working at the hospital tomorrow afternoon, so come to my office around five and I’ll help you get all suited up. Everything fit?”
“No,” Melanie told her, tugging at her dress again.
“Yes it does.” Daphne didn’t even look at her. “I was talking to Santa. You good?”
“I guess.” His long-suffering expression made Melanie forget her elf-costume woes as she bit back a smile. “Aren’t I supposed to have a beard?” Xan asked.
“Yep.” Daphne nodded. “And a white wig and bushy white eyebrows. I didn’t have you try those on tonight, since they’re all pretty much one-size-fits-all. I’ll bring everything with me tomorrow.” She pulled open the door. “In the meantime, Santa—practice smiling.” She put on a fake grin and pointed a finger at her mouth. “It’s not hard—see?”
Xan just growled, and she laughed. “See you!”
The door closed behind her with a thump and Melanie shot a look at Xan’s sulky face. “So how badly did you want to flip my sister off just now?”
“You can’t even imagine,” he grumbled, although the humor was back in his expression. He plopped down in the battered armchair tucked against the wall. Normally, he sat on a stool to paint but Xan insisted on having the armchair for when he needed a more comfortable place to sit. Every so often, Melanie would arrive at work to find him sleeping in that chair. Those days, he was extra crabby.
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” he groaned.
“You? What about me?” she gestured at her scantily clad body. “I’m going to be walking around a hospital in this, looking like an elf with low self-esteem.”
He laughed, tugging at his fur-lined collar. “This suit is not lounge-wear, that’s for sure. This thing is choking me.”
“Here.” She bent over and pushed his hands away. “You’re going to pop a button off, and then Daphne will yell at you. Let me get it.” Melanie pushed the button through the hole, opening his collar. “There.”
“Thank you.”
Leaning over as she was, their faces were very close together. Melanie cleared her throat. “This is really nice of you to do this,” she told him sincerely. “Thank you.”
“Seeing you in this elf suit is thanks enough,” he said, his lips curling up at the corners. His gaze was focused on something below her face. Glancing down, Melanie saw that her bent-over position was giving Xan a great view of her bra-less cleavage. She straightened and slapped a hand over her neckline.
“Um…thanks?” she said, feeling suddenly awkward. “I’ll be glad to get it off—I mean, to change into my regular clothes.”
“I like it,” Xan told her, reaching out to catch a fold of her skirt beneath his fingers. “It puts me in the holiday spirit.” His voice was rough and growly, and the sound warmed her lower belly, melting her insides.
Bad idea, Mel, her practical side told her turned-on side firmly. He’s your boss! She cleared her throat. “I should…um, help you out of your suit.”
His grin was wolfish. “Sounds fun. Can I ask you to do something first?”
“I don’t know.” Her heart was pounding, but Melanie wasn’t sure if it was from apprehension or excitement. “Last time you asked me to do something, I ended up wearing an elf costume.”
“This is just a tiny thing.”
She didn’t believe him for a second but her curiosity won out. “Fine. What?”
“Sit on my lap.” He patted his knee. “Tell me what you want for Christmas.”
Melanie swallowed. “Sit on your lap?” she parroted, flushing when her voice came out high-pitched and nervous.
Giving her a tug on her skirt, he held his smile, although his eyes were dark and intense and so, so hot. He didn’t say anything else but just drew her in with his magnetic gaze and a gentle pull on her skirt. Before she even realized what she was doing, she’d stepped closer and settled gingerly on Xan’s knee.
“There’s not much room left with that belly,” she teased nervously, giving the padding at his middle a poke.
“There’s plenty of room. You’re tiny.” He lifted and turned her so she was sitting sideways across his lap, her feet hanging over the arm of the chair. “There.”
“What’s this about?” she asked suspiciously.
“What do you mean?” His eyes held a devilish gleam. “Isn’t this what Santa does? Invite sexy elves onto his lap?”
Her stomach fluttered at the compliment but Melanie forced a frown. “Sexy? You’ve never even looked at me twice before.”
“I’ve looked at you,” he corrected, his hand settling on her thigh right above her knee. “All the time. I can’t stop looking at you.”
“Really?” Catching the flattered note in her tone, she tried to squash it and keep her voice sounding neutral. “I’ve never noticed.”
“That’s because I didn’t want anything to happen between us.”
Melanie blinked and tried to slide off his lap. When he caught her hip, holding her in place, she met his eyes. “What are you doing?” she demanded, annoyed how he’d so easily gotten her on his lap when he obviously felt so little for her. “Why are you messing with me?”
His hand above her knee traced soothing circles. “I’ve been trying to keep my hands off you since your first day. Seeing you in this,” his gaze followed the line of her body, “ruined all my good intentions.”
“Good intentions?”
“You’re the best assistant I’ve ever had,” he admitted. “I didn’t want to fuck that up.”
A giggle escaped. “Literally.”
He smiled back. “Exactly.”
“So what’s changed?”
His hand slid a tiny bit higher on her thigh. “You’re hotter than hell in those suits you wear but tonight…” He shook his head, blowing out a hard breath. “I think you blew a circuit in my brain when I saw you in this dress. All my willpower’s just…gone.”
“Really?” This time, the word came out in a purr.
He nodded, his eyes narrow and hot. “Yeah. So tell me, what do you want for Christmas, little elf?”
She wiggled a little in excitement. Although Melanie still couldn’t really believe this was actually happening, she didn’t want to mess up this opportunity. She stretched up toward his ear, and he bent his head closer to her.
“What I would like for Christmas,” she murmured in his ear, “is a kiss from Santa.” Moving nearer until her lips brushed his earlobe, she added, “Too bad I’m not getting a present this year, since I’m on the naughty list.” Melanie felt him shiver but wasn’t sure whether it was caused by the touch of her lips or her words.
“Lucky for you,” Xan told her, his voice gravelly, “I have a special bag of gifts for naughty little elves.”
A hot rush of moisture dampened her thighs at his words. “So I get my present?”
In answer, his hand left her hip and cupped the back of her head, holding her still as his mouth descended. Just the light contact of his lips drew a moan from her. It was even better than she’d imagined—he was even better. All those daydreams about him hadn’t even come close to the amazing reality of his mouth on hers.
Xan deepened the kiss, and her world exploded with heat. As his tongue invaded her mouth, she struggled to get closer, twisting around until she straddled his lap. His hands slid beneath her skirt to cup her ass, kneading the cheeks firmly enough to draw a shiver from her.
She gripped his head with both hands, her fingers burrowing through his hair, those closely trimmed locks she’d teased him were too short for any self-respecting artist. Now the strands felt perfect—long enough to grip and gently tug, long enough to hold onto as she pressed even harder into the kiss.
His teeth nipped at her bottom lip, and she gasped at the pleasurable sting. As wonderful as the pressure of his mouth was, it wasn’t enough. Melanie tugged at his coat, needing the unyielding planes of his chest beneath her hands.
“Don’t rip it,” he warned her, his voice husky. “Your sister is scary.”
Right. Daphne’s wrath. Melanie pulled away from the kiss and slid off Xan’s lap.
“Wait,” he protested.
She smiled, a slow, sexy curve of her lips. “Just getting you out of your coat, Santa.” Bending over to give him a good view down her low-cut neckline, Melanie unbuckled the black belt circling his enhanced waist and pulled it free, tossing it behind her without taking her eyes away from Xan. She flicked each button through its hole until the coat hung open and his eyes were hot enough to singe the faux fur rimming her dress.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he groaned, yanking his arms from the sleeves and throwing the coat behind him. His suspenders were next, and she took her time, easing the elastic over his shoulders and down his arms, coasting her fingers over the hard lines beneath the fabric of his shirt. She reached for his top button but Xan caught her hands.
“Your turn.” The words were a thick growl, and Melanie thrilled at the need in his voice. “Take something off.”
She straightened, trying to think. There wasn’t much for her to take off and she wasn’t ready to be completely naked when he was still covered up from neck to toe. Turning her back to Xan, she hooked a finger in either side of the waistband of her tights and slowly pulled them down. She bent at the waist as she slid the fabric over her knees and down her calves, knowing the position would make her skirt creep up the back of her thighs, exposing almost the full length of her legs to him.
Melanie heard the catch in his breathing as she unbuckled her shoes, pulling her feet free, one at a time, of both the tights and shoes. The tile floor was cool against her bare soles, but every other part of her body was almost unbearably hot. The plush fabric of her skirt brushed against her ass cheeks, exposed by her thong. The teasing touch of the skirt sensitized her skin, making her even more desperate for Xan’s hands on her.
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