Love Under the Mistletoe Read online

  ‘I need to be inside you,’ he mutters, and helps me to my feet. Before he lays me down on the bed, he releases my wrists, but it’s only a temporary respite from my bondage because he’s soon sliding the short length of chain that connects the cuffs between the brass rails of the bedhead, before fastening me into them again.

  Having my arms stretched out above my head isn’t too uncomfortable, but still I squirm against the sheet, knowing Scott has me at his mercy. A steady pulse beats between my legs, and I know that if he were to run a finger over me, it would come away slick with my juices.

  ‘You want me, don’t you?’ Scott says, coming to lie on the bed beside me.

  ‘You know I do,’ I reply, needing nothing more than to have him sliding into me, filling me up.

  ‘Well, I’m not sure you really know what wanting is. By the time I’ve finished with you, I’m going to make you beg to be fucked like you’ve never begged before. But don’t worry; I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. If you think that I’m taking anything too fast and you want me to slow down, say “amber”. If you want me to stop completely, say “red”. You got that?’

  ‘Yes,’ I tell him, confident that I won’t need to use either word, no matter what he decides to do.

  He goes over to the closet where I’ve stored my clothes. I turn my head to watch him, wondering what on earth he’s doing. He quickly rifles through the hanging dresses and jeans, failing to find what he’s looking for. Then he turns to the drawer I’m using for my lingerie. With a little whoop of triumph, he pulls something out and holds it up. I see that it’s one of the elbow-length, velvet gloves I intended to wear with my long, slinky black dress.

  Scott starts to put it on. I can’t imagine how it will fit his hand without tearing, but the fabric stretches to accommodate him. Then he returns to the bed and sits down once more, his body so close to mine that I can feel the heat radiating from his skin.

  ‘You look so beautiful like that,’ he tells me. ‘Helpless to stop me doing whatever I want to you …’

  As he speaks, he runs one velvet-covered finger over my breast, slowly circling it till the nipple crinkles into a heavy knot. Then he turns to its twin and repeats the action. I feel the sensation zinging its way to my clit, and writhe in my bonds, wanting more. If only he’d take one of my aching buds into his mouth and suck, giving me the stimulation I crave. But Scott pulls away and strokes my sides and belly instead. He works his way down till he’s almost at the spot where I need his touch most, then changes tack again. Now he caresses my foot. I’m terribly ticklish there, and his eyes light up as he realises he’s hit pay dirt.

  ‘Please don’t,’ I beg. ‘I can’t bear it. I’ll do whatever you want, just as long as you don’t tickle me any more.’

  Realising that I haven’t uttered either the “stop” or the “slow down” word he just gave me, he chuckles and replies, ‘Sorry, Dionne, but I’m in charge here, remember?’ And with that, he starts to scratch lightly at my other sole.

  The sensation is too much, too maddening, and I thrash on the bed, trying to free my foot from his grasp, but he holds firm. I’m just about to blurt out, ‘Red!’ when he stops what he’s doing.

  ‘Do you want to be fucked now?’

  Like I never have before, I want to tell him. All the touching, all the tickling has set me on fire with need, and I’m completely his, to do with as he wishes. I nod.

  ‘Then tell me,’ he says.

  ‘I – I can’t.’ I never really talked dirty with Richard, always thinking it was somehow wrong, and the words won’t come easily.

  ‘Of course you can. Don’t be ashamed of your desires, Dionne. Now, tell me what you want me to do to you.’

  At last, I manage to look Scott in the eye and grit out, ‘I want you to fuck me.’

  ‘Good girl.’

  His words leave me glowing with a strange kind of pride, as if I’ve passed a test I didn’t even know I was taking. He peels off the glove, but leaves me cuffed to the bed. The condoms are still lying on the nightstand where I left them, and Scott quickly puts one on.

  When he enters me, he takes it slow and easy, teasing me by withdrawing almost to the point where he’s fully out before sliding in again, a little deeper each time. With my hands bound, I’m forced to let him take things at his own pace. He clearly knows how much this is frustrating me, but it’s all part of the game.

  At last, he’s buried to the hilt, and now he starts to thrust hard. I wrap my legs around the small of his back, using my heels to encourage him to go as deep as he can. I’ve never felt so intimately joined to anyone, and I wish with all my heart that this moment could go on forever.

  With every stroke, the friction of his body grinding against mine is transmitted right to my clit. I can’t fight the overwhelming urge to come. It’s as if a dam breaks, flooding the whole of me with intense pleasure, and I call out Scott’s name. When he issues a tormented groan, I know he’s reached his own peak. He clings tight to my bound, bliss-wracked frame, and we ride the waves of orgasm.

  ‘Thank you,’ I murmur, as Scott gathers his senses enough to sit up and unbuckle the cuffs. He pulls me into his arms, and we lay there, swapping soft endearments until his eyelids flutter shut. I rest my head on his chest, listening to the comforting beat of his heart, and try not to think about the fact that in a couple of days I’ll be on my way back home, and this will be nothing more than a delicious memory.

  Though I shouldn’t complain. I could have lived my whole life and never known the bliss I’ve enjoyed with Scott. Is it my fault that now I’ve sampled this kind of pleasure, I’ve become greedy for more?

  Epilogue

  ‘Good morning, Dionne.’ Scott pushes away a stray lock of hair and kisses my cheek.

  I blink myself fully awake, surprised to see that the sun has been up for a while yet he’s still in bed beside me.

  ‘Hey, shouldn’t you be working?’

  ‘It’s another late start for me today, which is great, because it means I get to spend more time with you.’

  ‘Don’t get too used to it,’ I tell him. ‘I’m only here for another day. I would have liked to stay longer, but my finances didn’t allow it.’

  ‘What will you do when you get home?’

  ‘Well, Richard and I were supposed to be away for a week, so I’m not due back at work till next Wednesday, but I may go into the store anyway. I’ve got to face everyone sooner or later, after all.’

  ‘Hey, it won’t be too bad. He’s the one who cheated on you, remember?’

  ‘I know that, but it’s going to be so weird, going to all the places we used to go, seeing all the people who I thought were my friends … I still don’t know which one of them knew enough about what Richard was doing to send me that warning note.’

  ‘Does it matter? Whoever it was, you can always count them as your friend, because they did you a huge favour.’

  ‘You’re right. And who cares about Richard anyway? This is the start of my new life and I’m not going to think about what might have been.’

  ‘That’s the attitude.’ Scott smiles at me, his handsome face all the encouragement I need.

  ‘So what about you?’ I ask. ‘What does your future have in store?’

  ‘I’ll be working here for another two weeks, and then it’s back to college for me.’ His face falls, as if he’d rather be anywhere than in a lecture theatre.

  ‘How bad can that be? It must be pretty cool to study in Hawaii.’

  He props himself up on one elbow and looks at me. ‘Oh, I don’t go to school here. I’m at Cal State, in Sacramento.’

  ‘Really. Wow! That’s less than an hour’s drive away from me.’ I sit up, pulling the covers around my naked body. That piece of information changes everything, and for once, I’m bold enough to speak the words that are in my heart. ‘Scott, it means my leaving here doesn’t have to be the end, assuming you don’t want it to be, that is. I – I’d like to think what we have could beco
me more than just a holiday romance. All I know is that I really want to spend time with you again, and maybe when we’re both back in California, we could – I don’t know – go see a movie, maybe have dinner together somewhere.’

  ‘Or, even better, you could come over to my place, I’ll order in some Chinese takeout and we could spend the whole weekend in bed.’

  ‘You know, I really like the sound of that.’

  ‘Great. It’s a date. Now, come here, gorgeous …’

  As Scott begins to place a slow line of kisses down my body, I can’t prevent myself from breaking into a grin of total happiness. What started out as Christmas for one is turning into something very special for two, and my future is looking as bright as the sun that shines down on this paradise island.

  A Valentine For Christmas

  KD Grace

  Chapter One

  ‘Terrill, I’ll be late getting home tonight,’ Gerard Jasper spoke into his BlackBerry, not giving his butler time to respond; he knew it would be to wish him a Merry Christmas and ask, yet again, if he was sure he didn’t want to spend the holiday with his aunt upstate, who always invited him, and to whom he always made an excuse. He was sure, and he didn’t want to hear it again. ‘If you’d be so kind as to give Twyla and Olga their bonuses,’ – he could never bring himself to call them Christmas bonuses, – ‘I’d appreciate it. They’re on my desk in the study, along with your own, of course.’ And damn good bonuses they were too. He believed in rewarding people for good work. But he didn’t want to hear the thank yous and the ‘happy holidays’ rubbish that went along with them. He avoided the hackneyed seasonal best wishes whenever possible and especially when it came down to those final desperate hours of frantic shopping and last-minute errands before the holiday was thrust upon the exhausted and frazzled masses always before they were prepared, but never before the seasonal build-up had been worn to a thread-bare banality that was well past its sell-by date. ‘I’ve gotta run, Terrill. Howard Hailey just delivered the next set of hoops the Valentine Corporation wants me to jump through. Christ, Valentine’s a ball buster.’

  His executive assistant, Alice, glared at him from over the top of her glasses. It was Christmas Eve and she had expected to be home with her family by now. Though it was R. M. Valentine’s fault – the bastard – it was clearly him she blamed. She should remember, like that of his domestic staff, her bonus was also very generous. Why the hell did she think he paid her so well? He turned his attention back to his butler, who was being solicitous and kind and wondering if he wanted either him or Twyla to stay on until he got home. He didn’t. He didn’t want company. He had stacks of work to do and, frankly, he didn’t need to be reminded of all the holiday cheer. He flat out didn’t need to be reminded of the holidays at all. Better not to think about them, better to be busy. He reassured his butler that he’d be just fine and hung up before he got another rendition of ‘not good to be alone on the holidays.’ It was bad enough that Twyla insisted on decorating his penthouse to the rafters in evergreen and fairy lights every December, but she’d been in his family’s service since he was a boy, so he let her have that. It made her happy and he could ignore all the trappings easily enough, though he was pretty sure she had hoped surrounding him in evergreen and holly would somehow infuse him with a good dose of holiday spirit. She was wasting her time.

  Terrill slipped his phone back into his pocket and turned to Twyla, with unhappy shake of his head over the predictable conversation with his boss. ‘He’s going to be even later than we expected.’

  The maid clucked her tongue. ‘That means the poor dear will have to be here all alone for who knows how long. Maybe I should stay with her.’

  ‘She says it’s not necessary. She says she’ll enjoy the peace and quiet, maybe even take a nap.’

  ‘I know, but she seemed a bit … well … shell shocked when she heard me mention Mr Jasper’s name, and personally, I can’t imagine being all trussed up like that under the Christmas tree would be very comfortable.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Terrill said. ‘I’ve been assured that she can handle herself.’ He smiled. ‘And with any luck, Mr Jasper as well.’

  Twyla offered him a quick grin, then glanced over her shoulder toward Gerard Jasper’s study, where she could just see the green bows of the enormous Douglas fir decked in red and gold peeking around the door. He hadn’t been pleased to have a tree in his study, and she’d been afraid he’d finally put his bah-humbugging foot down and make her remove it before their plan could be fully implemented. The tree had to be in his study because he meticulously avoided the sitting room where the really big Colorado blue spruce stood. In the end he had fumed, glared, growled, and relented. Both she and Terrill took liberties none of the other household help would dare to take. They’d been with the Jasper family for a long time, and they knew Gerard Jasper, probably better than he did, though they kept that fact to themselves and used it wisely.

  For a long moment the two stood in silence their gazes locked on the open door of Gerard Jasper’s study. ‘We could lose our jobs over this,’ Terrill said.

  Twyla nodded. ‘We could, but it’ll be worth it. It’s been a long time since that poor boy’s had a happy holiday.’

  Chapter Two

  It was late when Gerard got home – even later than he’d anticipated, but that was fine for him. Being tired enough to sleep for a week made facing the next few days a lot easier. He shoved out of his jacket and slung it over the ladder-back chair by the door, then loosened his tie, somehow not finding the strength to actually remove it completely. Ignoring the evergreen bunting strung across the balcony above the stairs, he made his way into his study. From the credenza across from his desk, he poured himself a neat whiskey then dropped into the Cordovan leather chair beside the fireplace. He tossed back the shot, then closed his eyes. He only intended to rest them for a few minutes before he went to the kitchen where he knew Olga had left food prepared for him. He’d specifically overseen the menu this time to make certain not a slice of turkey nor a smidge of cranberry sauce darkened the fridge. It was bad enough his apartment was decked out like Rockefeller Center, but at least he could dictate his own meals.

  Yes, he had only planned to close his eyes for a minute, but it was a scuffling sound and a soft moan that startled him from sleep and from dreams of falling into deep, icy water. He opened his eyes and looked around. In the silence he could hear heavy breathing. There was another moan. He exhaled slowly and looked around the room. Carefully, cautiously, he leaned forward in the chair, wrapped his fingers around the poker in front of the fireplace, and pulled it free from its stand. Holding his breath, he came slowly to his feet.

  There was more scuffling and a sharp, low grunt. It sounded as though it were coming from behind the Christmas tree. Fucking tree was a health hazard, a fire hazard, and Twyla never stopped to think that it was perfect for a thief to hide behind, though how the hell anyone could have gotten past his security was beyond him. He tightened his grip on the poker and raised it like a baseball bat. Bracing himself, he took a step forward, but the next moan he heard was decidedly feminine and it was definitely coming from under the tree! With a quick movement, he reached for the lamp near the chair and switched it on, and the moan became a little yelp of surprise.

  ‘What the …’ Words died in his mouth as he lowered his arm and dropped the poker against the chair. He blinked twice then rubbed his eyes. Surely he still had to be dreaming. Thought this dream beat the hell out of the usual drowning dream. There was another moan and, as his eyes adjusted to the light, he realized it came from the woman lying on her side under the tree. She was completely naked except for the red velvet ribbons that seductively bound her wrists and her ankles. The only other thing she wore was a sprig of mistletoe pinned in the muss of thick, dark hair that fell over her shoulders, partially obscuring breasts that were obviously full enough to balance the rest of her figure that curved dangerously in all the right places. Even in that confused po
st-wake-up state, Gerard’s cock got the picture just fine. But what the hell was a naked woman doing tied up beneath his Christmas tree?

  Before he could ask, the woman moaned again – louder this time – and doubled over as though she were in pain.

  ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’ he asked, dropping to his knees, forgetting the fact that this chick had invaded his privacy.

  ‘Oh, God!’ she gasped. ‘It’s my leg. I have a cramp. In my left hip and it’s making my butt numb.’ She bit back a curse that he was pretty sure would have curled his hair if she’d let it fly. But he figured perhaps she was on her best behavior – red ribbons, mistletoe, and all.

  It was then that both he and his cock remembered, at exactly the same time, that she was tied up. He was in complete control. He settled on his haunches and folded his arms across his chest. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ he asked.

  She moaned again and tried to shift to a more comfortable position, which made her breasts bounce and her hair slide away to reveal nipples, darkened and stiff atop goose-fleshed areolae. ‘I’m your Christmas present.’

  He blinked. ‘My what?’

  ‘Christmas present? You know, happy holidays, noel, peace on earth … ouch! Oh hell, that hurts.’ She hissed between barely parted lips and writhed in a way that should have made him sympathetic, but only made him hornier. ‘Could you please untie me so I can take care of this cramp?’

  ‘My Christmas present?’

  ‘Yup. Ouch! Ow! Please!’

  ‘From whom?’ Oh fuck, the more she shifted and shimmied, the more her breasts bounced. They were exquisite, and the more they bounced, the more of his brain function rerouted itself to his cock.