Can one kiss under the mistletoe change a player?
When sexy television executive Blake Burns sets his lips on his feisty new assistant, Jennifer McCoy, all his rules fly out the door. All he wants for Christmas is her.
My heart raced as my eyes stayed fixed on the inviting bed.
“I should go,” I stammered.
One forceful word: “No.”
“You’re my boss,” I gasped.
“Yes, and I’m ordering you to stay. You want this as much as I do. Now, come to Santa, baby.”
Before I could say another word, his lips returned to my mouth. His long-fingered hands cradled my face as his tongue nudged my lips to part. Back inside my mouth, it twirled and whirled with mine, dancing like snowflakes. I was melting into him. Unable to resist.
As he played with my nipples and sucked my lips, a new ache crescendoed between my legs. He was right. I wanted him. I desperately wanted him. A want like I’d never experienced before. Every nerve in my body was sparking and my heart was on fire.
I clenched my eyes shut as our mouths became one, clinging hotly together. A hand reached behind me, squeezing into the narrow space between my back and the wall. The hiss of the zipper inching down my dress filled my ears. And then I felt him slide the sparkly confection off me. In a breath, my bare breasts were rubbing against his soft velvet jacket. My nipples ached with want. I opened my eyes a slit’s worth as he read my mind.
Then, I jolted. A hand reached down into my lace bikinis and found its way to the molten folds between my thighs. After stroking them, his skilled fingers glommed onto my clit and circled it. Flutters of pleasures met his touch. I let out a moan. Or was it a groan? Either way, ecstasy powered it.
“Jesus.” he said, his voice a deep breathy whisper. “You’re so fucking wet for me, you bad girl.”
No one had ever called me “bad” before. I’d always been a good girl through and through. I came from a good family, did good things, had good friends, went to a good college, got a good job… and had been engaged to a good guy. So I’d thought.
God. I want to be bad, I thought as I let him slide my undies down my legs, inch by sweet inch. “Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town” filtered into the room. He rewarded the good; punished the bad. Honestly, who gave a damn what that Santa did. My Santa was showering me with wonderful surprises.
I wanted more.
To learn about my new releases, sales, and giveaways, please sign up for my newsletter and follow me on social media. I love to hear from my readers.