Tasting Her Christmas Cookies: A Holiday Romantic Comedy

by Alina Jacobs

  Rudolph chose that moment to creep back into the living room. He licked Holly’s hand.

  I picked her up. She murmured sleepily in my arms as I carried her upstairs to my bedroom. Her clothes were half off and her panties were somewhere downstairs, so I figured it was fine to undress her the rest of the way. I kissed her then covered her with the comforter. I watched her sleep.

  Now what?

  If I lay in the bed next to her, I knew I wouldn't sleep at all. I would count the seconds until she woke up. All I wanted to do was fuck her. Sliding my fingers into her had been intoxicating. I was still hard. I forced myself to calm down and went out to stand on the balcony in the cold, looking out over the city’s night lights.

  The next morning, I heard Holly awake and talking to herself. I went up, fully expecting to fuck her, but she looked freaked out when I opened the door.

  “Oh my God!” she shrieked. “Don't look! I don't have any clothes on!”

  I dutifully turned around while she pulled a sheet over herself.

  “I feel like this might be a little bit of shutting the door after the reindeer has already left the barn,” I told her.

  “And now he decides to make Christmas references,” she huffed.

  “Well, last night my face was in your—”

  “Yes, I know where it was,” she snapped. “But that was when I was dressed. Things were held up and in place. Also I had the extra confidence boost of half a bottle of cognac.”

  “Unless you bought it half full, the bottle was mostly gone. You left it outside my front door,” I informed her.

  “No wonder I can barely remember anything,” she muttered to herself.

  “I can jog your memory,” I said helpfully, turning around. The sheet was wrapped around her like a toga. I could make out the outline of her rock-hard nipples through the Egyptian cotton.

  “It's a weekday. I can't just stay here in your bed all day,” she protested.

  “You could.”

  “I have to plan your winter festival. I have a to-do list,” she said.

  “And it doesn't include finishing what we started last night?” I asked, slowly approaching her to see if she would back away.

  She didn't.

  I wrapped my arms around Holly, pulling her into a kiss. Her hands left the sheet to wrap around my neck. The sheet slid down, exposing her tits. Unable to contain my desire, I decorated her skin with light kisses from her collarbone to the swell of her breasts. Holly gasped then moaned.

  I pulled the rest of the sheet down. That snapped her out of the spell.

  “I need to shower!” she practically shouted and ran to the bathroom, slamming the door.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yep, perfect! Never better! I'll make you breakfast when I'm done.”

  Rudolph padded into the room. He had a scrap of lacy black cloth in his mouth.

  “Drop it,” I told the puppy, reaching for him.

  He zigged around me and scratched at the door. Holly opened it, and Rudolph squeezed inside.

  “How come the dog gets to come in?” I complained.

  “He's cute, and he gets separation anxiety,” she called.

  “But he ripped your underwear.”

  “You did that.”

  I snorted, wondering what she would do if I just opened the door and invited myself inside. But no. The first time with her needed to be perfect, not a quickie on the vanity.

  “Just sit tight,” Holly said. “I'm going to make you a bacon pie for breakfast.”

  “A bacon pie?”

  “Yes. Corn, cheddar, bacon, pickled onions. It's amazing.”

  I blew out a breath. My phone rang before my dick could talk me out of waiting for a better moment to fuck Holly. I went downstairs to take the call.

  Dana was on the line. “Don't forget that we're doing The Christmas Bake-Off at your holiday party in a few days,” she reminded me. “Please make sure your employees have signed waivers.”

  “Are the contestants going to give my employees food poisoning?” I demanded. “The TechBiz representatives are going to be there. They cannot have food poisoning. I'll be at the bottom of the rankings.”

  “Who knows?” Dana sighed. “With all the backstabbing going on, anything could happen.”

  “We should get together with Penny and Holly to talk about the holiday party,” I said.

  “What does Holly have to do with it?” Dana asked.

  “She's helping us with increasing our fun rating in the TechBiz competitions.”

  Dana was silent, then she said, “Owen, you cannot date one of the contestants. And now you have her working for you? Are you even paying her?”

  “Uh—”

  “At least don't sleep with her until the competition is over.”

  “Define sleeping with?”

  “For goodness' sake, Owen.”

  Holly came downstairs with Rudolph after Dana hung up. She had put on a pair of my boxers and one of my shirts with the sleeves rolled up. I could make out the outline of her tits beneath the expensive fabric.

  “I'm going to make you something nice for breakfast,” she said, waltzing to the kitchen.

  “I already see what I want right here,” I said, sliding my hands under the shirt and kissing her.

  “I look like a mess,” she said. “You don't want me like this.”

  “Of course I do,” I said seriously.

  Holly kissed my jaw then spun away to grab the remote. “I'm still going to make breakfast. But I need Christmas shows on. WebFlix has a twenty-four-seven Christmas channel,” she said as Frosty the Snowman popped up on the screen. He was arguing with an elf; there was a lot of hand-waving. It seemed everyone found Christmas stressful.

  Holly went back to rummaging in the fridge. Rudolph stood right underfoot. I tried to call the dog away.

  “He knows I’m making bacon,” Holly said with a laugh, taking out the meat.

  The bacon sizzled in a pan while she mixed up a piecrust. She rolled it out and pressed it into a pan. She stuck the dough in the fridge while she pulled the bacon off the stove, taking the pieces out to cool.

  “I'm a little scared at how well you can use that knife,” I told her as she sliced red onions and jalapeños very thin.

  “This was my life for years,” Holly said with a laugh as she mixed them with lime juice, salt, and sugar. “When I landed my first restaurant job, I would have to chop a bag of onions a day. Some of them in rings, some sliced, some minced. It was a lot of onions. The trick is to make sure your knife is very sharp.” She cut them deftly.

  “Piecrust is going in the oven,” she said. “And now to make the filling. I don't want it fluffy, so I'm folding in the eggs,” she explained, sprinkling salt and pepper on them then adding the bacon, cheddar, and corn. She poured it into the piecrust and arranged the sliced onions on top.

  “It's like a soup muffin,” I remarked.

  “Oh, those muffins Chloe makes? Yeah, those are really tasty,” Holly said, smiling. “But not as tasty as you!”

  41

  Holly

  I wasn't sure why I was so freaked out by being with Owen. Maybe it would have been easier if we'd just fucked and then I did the walk of shame back to my room.

  But instead of just getting his jollies and going to sleep like you'd think a billionaire like him would do, he put me first. Now he seemed perfectly content to let me wear his clothes and walk around barefoot in his condo.

  “So is this your usual morning routine?” I asked, sitting down on the couch next to him after I slid the pie in the oven.

  “It's usually a little more hectic,” he admitted. “But I already did my workout and took Rudolph for a jog and answered emails.”

  “What time did you get up?” I asked in surprise.

  “Never went to sleep.”

  “Too bad, because I slept very well,” I teased him.

  He grabbed me by the waist, and I straddled his lap. I could feel his hardness throug
h his pants. I leaned forward and kissed him softly.

  “I don't want to mess up your suit,” I murmured against his mouth.

  He unbuttoned the dress shirt I was wearing, kissing down from my neck to my collarbone to my tits, sucking and teasing one nipple then the other until they were hard little pebbles.

  “You won't mess it up,” he said. His hand cupped my ass then snuck under the shorts. I was wet and aching for him. I ground against his hand as he kissed me, his tongue dipping in and out of my mouth. He pulled us back down on the couch. It was so large that Owen could stretch out fully. I was still straddling him. He pushed the shorts down, and I spread my legs, moaning.

  “I want your cock,” I said hoarsely, all earlier hesitations burned away with aching need.

  “As soon as that timer goes off, you're going to want to jump up and check the food. I'm going to need more time than that,” he said, thumbs rubbing circles on my lower back.

  “No one likes a braggart.”

  Owen chuckled then grabbed my hips, pulling me up toward his head. I was practically sitting on his face.

  “This is an awkward angle.”

  “Mmm,” he said. His tongue flicked out and touched my clit. “This is perfect.”

  I gripped the armrest of the sofa as Owen's large hands dug into my hips and ass. He took his time, tracing every fold, every line of my pussy.

  “I thought you wanted to fuck me,” I whimpered.

  “I want to make you come first,” he whispered, going back to sucking my clit, making little circles around it with his tongue. My chest was tight, and I was panting, my hips trying to grind against his face.

  “I really want your cock,” I moaned, back arching and arms trembling as I tried to keep myself from collapsing.

  “You also said you didn't want to mess up my suit,” he said, pressing his thumb into my opening as he continued to work my clit with his tongue.

  My thighs trembled, and my hips made needy little circles. I whimpered, clutching the fabric of the sofa as I came with a cry.

  The timer buzzed.

  “Shit,” I panted, half sprawled over the edge of the couch. “The food.”

  “Told you,” Owen said, scooting me off him. He stood up and didn't look at all rumpled.

  I swiped the hair out of my face. “Show-off.”

  He smirked and went to pull the breakfast pie out of the oven. I stumbled over after taking a few moments to catch my breath.

  “Looks good,” I said, inspecting the pan. “Still slightly jiggly.”

  Owen bent down to kiss my tits through the shirt. I was immediately wet. I wondered if he was going to bend me over the counter and fuck me. It would be good. But I'd just had an orgasm, and better judgment was trying to prevail. This thing with Owen had all the ingredients for a perfect disaster.

  I sliced the quiche and plated the pieces, taking them to the couch. It sure had seen a lot of action.

  “So this is your morning routine?” Owen asked, turning the question back on me as I blew on a bite of the quiche.

  “What, sex with a hot guy? Hardly. Lots of cheesy, carby foods? Totally. Though this is a little early for me. Usually I'm up all night and sleep late unless I have to go in and cook brunch.” I shuddered.

  “You don't like brunch?” Owen asked. “I thought all girls liked brunch.”

  “I liked brunch until I had to cook it for a thousand hungover, entitled Beckys and their shallow friends. But yes, if I don’t have to cook it or have to listen to people constantly complaining that their eggs are undercooked—spoiler, scrambled eggs should not be little rubber pellets—then yeah, I'm down, especially if there are mimosas involved.” I finished my quiche and looked at the clock. “I need to prep for the holiday festival.”

  “Oh, about that.” Owen looked sheepishly at me. “You didn't tell me how much you needed to be paid for it.”

  “You gave me free rein with your credit card and three of the most amazingly big Os I've ever had,” I said lightly. “I don't even know what to charge you. I'm not like a real decorator. I just love Christmas, and I did some event planning in my days with the restaurants.”

  “I'll have Beck send you a proposal, and you can see what you think,” he said firmly.

  Especially since now that Owen wanted to pay me, I didn't know where we stood. I had been thinking maybe I was doing a favor for a guy I liked. Now he was like, “Oh, you're an employee.” And he’d suggested it right after we—well I guess just I—had sex. Was this a roundabout way of him paying me for it? Was that just how billionaires operated? They assumed that if they wanted something, they had to pay for it? No problem, just pressing a button. Was there going to be some sort of weird nondisclosure clause about his super-special tongue-on-clit technique?

  But it wasn’t as if I didn't need the money. I had been ignoring the notices from the credit card company about late payments, and there was a new email from the storage company reminding me I needed to pay up.

  All my subscription baking boxes and weird outfits had not yet netted me any sponsorship deals. Unless I won The Great Christmas Bake-Off, I was going to have nothing for Christmas. Actually no, not nothing; I'd have all my debt to keep me company.

  I was a wreck when I went back upstairs.

  Morticia was waiting for me in annoyance in the kitchen. “Did you complete a successful sexorcism?”

  “I didn't have sex with him.”

  “Then what were you doing up there all night?” she asked tartly. “Making cookies?”

  “I made Owen a quiche,” I said primly. “Which he ate. He also ate me out.”

  “So breakfast and a striptease. Someone got his Christmas present early.”

  “Ugh.”

  “You said you wanted me to help bake,” Morticia reminded me. “We have a very busy schedule. We need to finish decorating the lobby and you have subscription boxes to assemble. Or I suppose you could go back downstairs and try to convince your billionaire boy toy to give you an engagement ring, and you can leave us all and go off to Christmas fairyland.”

  I grimaced. “Owen's not a boy, and that thing he's wielding is definitely not a toy.”

  “Did you even see it?”

  “I saw part of it.”

  Morticia shook her head. “You need to test-drive the car before you sign for it.”

  I changed and showered again. Then I was ready to bake.

  “We have to send out two hundred boxes,” I said, looking at the list. “How about making white-chocolate-and-raspberry cheesecake squares, chocolate-almond pound cake, and bread pudding with amaretto sauce. Those should travel well,” I said. I turned on a Christmas movie and tied on an apron.

  “No. I refuse to watch the Hallmark channel,” Morticia said, hefting a spatula threateningly.

  “It's Christmastime.”

  Morticia stared at me flatly.

  “The Nightmare Before Christmas?” I offered.

  “I accept.”

  We baked while Jack Skellington sang about discovering Christmas.

  “See, even the Pumpkin King loves Christmas.”

  Morticia glared at me as she mixed the cheesecake batter. “That is not a Christmas movie, it’s a Halloween movie, which is the only reason we're watching it.”

  42

  Owen

  I had meetings all morning and through lunch. When I went back up to my office, I froze outside the door.

  “What the—” It looked as if a Christmas bomb had gone off. Holly was smiling in the middle of it all.

  “Isn't it nice?”

  “I thought you were decorating the main office,” I said with a frown.

  “You're going to have a meeting with the TechBiz representatives in here,” she said. “Your office needed some Christmas cheer. We had leftover decorations from the lobby.”

  There was garland hanging from the windows. Gossamer snowflakes glowed. A basket of winter fruits and flowers sat on the small refreshments bar. An actual Christmas tree stood
in the corner.

  “I kept it pretty minimalist,” Holly explained, trotting along beside me as I walked around my office. I really did not want all these Christmas decorations in my space, but Holly had put them up, and I didn't want to hurt her by removing them.

  “It's very festive,” I said finally, since it seemed as if Holly was expecting some sort of response.

  She beamed and went to pack an enormous box of decorating supplies. “The holiday party is tomorrow, so act like a normal Christmas-loving person. The TechBiz representatives will be there. They need to see that you aren't Owen Frost the Unfriendly Snowman. Maybe you can practice smiling in the mirror.”

  “I'd rather spend the day with you,” I told her.

  “I'm busy today. I have a to-do list,” she said, whipping out a fuzzy red notebook and a pen with a bobblehead Santa on it. “I have to go to the post office and then pick my outfit for tomorrow.”

  I took the notebook out of her hand and put in on the desk then pushed Holly back against the edge of it.

  “Just wear what you're wearing right now,” I said, my hands creeping up the skirt. I wanted nothing more than to bend her over the desk and fuck her.

  Breathlessly, Holly said, “Someone's going to see!”

  “Isn't that why you put up all these decorations—to provide some cover?” I said, the grin on my face dangerous.

  “I don't think it's that much cover,” Holly said.

  I stepped back while she adjusted her dress and licked her lips. “I have to go before the post office closes.”

  I kissed her once more before she left.

  The office felt colder without Holly there. I looked around at the Christmas decorations. On second thought, they weren't that bad. There weren’t a lot of blinking lights and red and green sparkly ornaments. Holly had used sage-green garlands, lots of silver and white and gold, with soft fairy lights. It felt more like a winter wonderland than a Christmas mall scene.