by Alina Jacobs
“You sure came in a hurry,” Holly said, swiping a finger down the chocolate sauce on her tits and popping the finger into her mouth. She was still wearing the Santa hat, and she rose seductively up on the bed.
“I want to ride your sleigh,” she said as I undid my pants and dropped them to the floor.
51
Holly
I could never get enough of Owen's big cock and washboard abs. Seriously, I was obsessed. It was too bad I wasn't an artist, or I would have drawn pictures of them.
“But maybe I'll make a cock-and-ball cookie, full sized,” I said, thinking out loud.
“A cock-and-ball cookie?” Owen said, burying his face in my tits, licking the chocolate sauce off.
“Why not?” I gasped as his fingers pushed between my legs, stroking my aching pussy. “Sometimes I just want a frosting-covered cock in my mouth.”
Owen growled and pushed me back on the bed. “You keep talking dirty like that, naughty girl, and you're not getting anything nice for Christmas.”
“I already have it,” I said, moaning as he stroked me, his large hand rubbing the wetness around, teasing my clit. I spread my legs wider for him and whimpered as he kissed me, his tongue tangling in my mouth while his fingers made little rolling motions in my pussy.
It was enough to put me teetering on the edge. Owen’s hand moved to rub my clit, sending me free-falling over.
“Oh my god,” I whimpered as I sprawled on the bed.
Owen licked the last of the icing off me. Then he kissed his way down, down to press his mouth against my pussy. I moaned, needing to feel him inside me. He grabbed my hips, taking his time as he brought me close to the edge again.
“I want your cock this time,” I whispered, pushing him off before he could make me come again.
I shoved him back onto the bed, and he went willingly. My pussy was aching for him. I straddled him.
“I told you I want to ride your sleigh.”
He wrapped one hand around my waist, the other caressing my tit and rolling the nipple between his fingers. I took his cock in my hand, sliding my palm along it greedily, needing his length in my pussy. I rubbed his cock in the silky wetness, moaning as the length slid along the hot, tight flesh.
Owen grabbed a condom, rolling it on with one hand as he swiped three fingers in my pussy.
“Better hold on, Santa, because you're in for a wild ride.”
I pushed him back down on the bed. “We're going to the North Pole and back,” I said, angling myself then sliding down on his length. His cock was huge inside me.
“Oh my god, Owen, this feels so good. You feel so good in my pussy,” I moaned. I rose on trembling thighs then slid back down, his entire length filling me.
Owen grabbed my hips, fingers digging into my ass. He held me up then rose slightly to meet me as I came down.
I tipped forward to press my mouth to his, my tits rubbing against the ridges of his muscular chest. Owen pushed me up then slid me down on his cock again, making sure to angle me so that the length slid against my clit. I moaned, needing it harder and faster.
He flipped us over, and I wrapped my hand around his neck and my legs around his waist as he jackhammered into me, his cock robbing against my clit with every thrust. As he fucked me, Owen tipped his head down to nip and roll a nipple in his mouth.
He licked his way back up to kiss me, taking my mouth as he filled me with his cock. I whimpered and strained against him as wave after wave of pleasure cascaded over me. My body was still trembling as Owned finished soon after.
“If I could bottle that up and sell it,” I said against his neck, “I'd be richer than you!”
All I wanted to do was lie in Owen's bed and have him do that thing with his tongue again and again. But the bake-off called. Literally.
“Heller?” I mumbled into the phone when it rang early the next morning.
“Where are you?” Morticia said.
“Uh, half on Owen’s cock,” I said, shifting my legs. “Why do you ask?”
“You can't see me, but I'm crossing myself right now,” she said. “We have to go shopping.”
“I'm going to be perfectly honest with you: I drank a lot of alcohol last night,” I said.
Owen sat up and ran a hand through his hair. Even after sleeping and copious amounts of sex, he still looked like the god of winter. I, however, had a Santa hat literally glued to my hair with a combination of hair spray, chocolate, and lord knew what else.
Owen pressed a kiss to my neck.
“I need to wash my hair,” I complained.
“I know,” Morticia said smugly. “That's why I woke you up an hour and a half early.”
After spending the next forty-five minutes using a variety of cleansers to get the chocolate out of my hair, I made it down to the lobby just in time. There were only four of us left: me, Fiona, Amber, and Jamila. Rita had been sent home the night before. She hadn’t been able to make enough of her coconut cream pie snowmen.
“You think I didn't see you,” Amber hissed in my ear when we assembled. “I see everything. I'm always watching him.”
“Okay, Ms. Creepy,” I said, slurping my peppermint mocha latte and wishing I were back in bed with Owen. It was Saturday. Why did I have to be out on a Saturday? And so early too.
“I'm going to make you an herb compress for your face,” Morticia said. “You look puffy.”
“Thanks, dear friend, for that confidence boost.”
“Also, I'm going to make an herb bath for your hoo-ha. It's seen a workout. And if you're putting cupcakes, cookies, and God knows what else down there, you need to clean it out.”
“It's self-cleaning.”
“Not that self-cleaning,” she said. “I have a good recipe I got from the old Korean lady down the street from me.”
I needed a showstopping dessert to win. On the walk to the store, I deleted several nasty email and text messages from the credit card companies about all the debt I had accrued.
Millions of people were watching The Great Christmas Bake-Off, and I had new people signing up for my subscription baking box every day. Even though I had more customers, I was nowhere near breaking even, let alone turning a profit.
“Ugh, it was such a stupid idea,” I said, loading up on apples in the grocery store.
“Maybe you can start a new business,” Morticia suggested.
“I did have this idea for candy-cane dildos.”
“Or Penny might give you a job. Your videos drive a lot of traffic to the Vanity Rag website. You could do a little baking channel.”
“I should probably try and get a real job,” I said dejectedly. “And start chipping away at my debt.” I took a breath. “Or maybe I'll win the bake-off. I made it this far, right?”
“You're spending a lot of time with Owen. Don't let him distract you,” Morticia warned.
“I'm not! Besides, he's not a distraction, he's inspiration! Really, though, I want to dress him up as Mr. Darcy.”
The next Bake-Off episode was Regency themed. That meant Jane Austin and Mr. Darcy and ices and baked apples. Now all I wanted to do was curl up in front of a fire with a mug of rummy eggnog and a Jane Austen novel.
I sighed as I walked with Morticia, looking for nice fruits. In the Regency period, Great Britain had been flexing its world power. People were experimenting more with spices in baking, though not much. Cooking and baking were still done in the home, at least in upper-middle-class homes like Austen's. Desserts like apple dumplings and pudding were popular. Ices were a big thing, too, as were starchy desserts.
Planning my dessert gave me a boost. So did the caffeine hitting my system.
When we went back to the tower, I put away my ingredients. Then I changed into a sexy costume and went out to take pictures. I had plenty of baking leftovers, and I did a photo shoot in the park of me eating cookies in a dress too revealing for the cold. I uploaded the best of the pictures to Instagram and ate a piece of cake as I walked back to the building.
An elf grabbed me as I was turning onto Owen's street.
“Stay away from him,” the elf warned.
Amber? Sloane? Nope. It was Owen's mom.
“As I’ve said multiple times,” I said in exasperation, “Owen's an adult. He can make his own decisions.”
The elf smiled cruelly. “Oh, I'm not telling you to stay away from him for his sake. I'm telling you for yours.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Hardly. Owen's just using you. He's never going to marry you.”
“I haven't really thought about marriage,” I retorted. “I'm just here for a good time.”
“Good, because so is he. He has every intention of marrying Sloane. He's just using you. Sloane is going to guarantee him a win in the TechBiz competition. They already have a deal. You don't stand a chance.”
52
Owen
Since Holly was out shopping, I went down to my office. There were a few people in there working as well. They waved happily when they saw me. That was new. Usually my employees were a little tense around me. Holly's ideas seemed to be working.
It was relaxing in my office. The minimalist Christmas decorations Holly had put up had a nice vibe. It was, dare I say, cozy. It would have been nicer if Holly were there, though. I managed to complete several hours of work before Walker popped his head in.
“I'm heading out to Harrogate. Several of my brothers are on winter break from college. Your brothers should be out too.”
“They're doing a special engineering class, so they have to stay on campus for a bit longer. I expect I'll see them soon,” I said.
It would be nice to see my two youngest brothers, I thought after Walker left. They were almost done with university. We did need to find them something to do. What was not going to happen was them running around partying and spending money.
My phone beeped. Holly had uploaded a new picture to her Instagram. She was wearing a poofy white skirt with a low-cut top. Perched on her head was a black top hat. She was blowing a kiss to the camera. In another picture, she was biting into a cookie.
My phone vibrated with a text from her.
Holly: Don't get jealous of the picture! I saved the extra-special outfit just for you! When you're done working, come and get it.
That was all I needed to be done.
One of my employees waved to me on the way out. “Hey, Mr. Frost.”
“Owen is fine.”
“You said yesterday at the holiday party to let you know if there was anything you could do to make it better to work here?”
I nodded, trying to keep the impatience off my face.
“Well, we were thinking that if we had a restaurant here, that would really help productivity.”
“The hotel has a restaurant,” I reminded him.
“It's fussy and slow,” his coworker interjected. “Frost Tower has that awesome restaurant in it.”
“I'll see what I can do,” I stated. The engineers flashed me a thumbs-up, and I hightailed it upstairs.
Holly was waiting for me in the bedroom.
“I had the nice snowgirl costume and the naughty one,” Holly said.
The lingerie she was wearing was one piece, but that was where the wholesomeness ended. The whole thing was made out of white fishnet. A black silk belt encircled her waist, emphasizing the hourglass shape of her curves. The outlines of her nipples were visible through the fine mesh. The piece ended in a high white lace collar. Framing her pussy was another panel of lace. She was wearing thigh-high white stockings held up with garters attached to the black silk belt. Three black buttons pointed a trail down to the curve of her tits. The top hat was perched jauntily on her head.
All I wanted to do was rip the outfit off her.
“I definitely don't want you posting this online,” I said to her.
“This is all for you, Owen,” she said, doing a sexy little dance that enticed me to the bed.
She didn't have to coax. My shirt was already on the floor, and my pants weren't far behind. I pushed her back on the bed, sending the hat rolling aside. I kissed her hard, pressing my aching cock against her. Holly moaned and strained against me. I nuzzled her neck then kissed down to suck her tits through the fabric.
“I might have to rip this off of you,” I said hoarsely. “I hope you don't have any strong emotional attachment to it.”
“It's Christmas themed!” she said as I caressed her thighs, nibbling and teasing her nipples through the white fabric. “I love all my Christmas outfits equally.”
“I'll buy you a new one,” I growled, needing her immediately.
“But this one has an extra-special surprise.”
She gasped as I kissed my way down to the lace panel that framed the V where her legs met. I spread them, pushing my hand against her pussy as I kissed her. Holly moaned, fingers tangling in my hair. Then I noticed the surprise.
“Crotchless!” Holly said, winking up at me. “For your convenience.”
“You're the one who's going to benefit,” I told her as I stroked her, satisfied when she let out a loud moan. She whimpered and pressed herself against my hand. I ripped the thin white fishnet; her tits spilled out. I caressed one and kissed down the white lace to her pussy, pressing my mouth to the hot flesh. I held her hips down as she wiggled against me.
I hooked one stocking-clad leg over my shoulder then took my time as I explored every inch of her. I knew Holly was close when her breathing became more erratic and her legs trembled. I flicked my tongue against her clit then licked her hard, feeling smug when she cried out as she came.
“I'm going to be inside you the next time you do that,” I told her as she lay on the bed, gasping from the aftereffect of the orgasm. I put on a condom, stroking her. I wanted her to be aching and pleading for me.
When I grabbed her hips and pushed inside her, she whimpered. She clung to my shoulders as I fucked her, making sure to hit her clit with every stroke. I thrust into her a few times more, then Holly came with a cry, her arms wrapped around my neck. She panted sloppy kisses along my jaw.
“Merry Christmas,” she said. “I actually had another present for you.”
“Oh yeah?” I kissed her neck. It was finally the weekend, and I wanted to stay in bed with her all day.
“We're doing a Regency theme for the next episode of the bake-off. I was going to buy you a Mr. Darcy outfit since Jane Austen's novels are mostly set during the Regency period.”
I tried to keep the panic off my face.
“But I figured you'd like a tasty meat pie instead!” she said with a laugh at my horror.
“Good choice,” I growled, pushing her back onto the bed.
After showering, I followed Holly downstairs. She petted Rudolph then opened the oven. The smell of something delicious wafted out.
“Ta-da! By the magic of TV, I bring you meat pies.”
“I can't believe you had this cooking while we were upstairs. You could have made poor Rudolph homeless.”
“Good thing you were on your A game then! But then I’m not the one that incinerated cookies,” she retorted, sliding the small meat pies onto a cooling rack. Then she did some trickery with two plates and flipped the pies around, and suddenly they were all neatly out of the pans. “Good thing you worked up an appetite!”
53
Holly
“I can't believe we're doing the bake-off on a Sunday,” Owen complained early the next morning.
“I'm excited,” I said. He pulled me back down on the bed. I kissed him then lightly batted his hands away. “I have to change.”
“You look fine.”
“I'm literally not wearing anything.”
Owen chuckled. “Just how I like it!”
For the Regency Christmas bake-off episode, I was wearing an Elizabeth Bennet costume. With the empire waist and minimal petticoats, it was a lot roomier than my other outfits. I’d even begged Morticia to put my hair in an updo like the women in Pride and Prejudice.
/> “Welcome to another episode of The Great Christmas Bake-Off,” Anastasia said. She, too, had dressed up in a long flowing gown. “It's a rite of passage for every girl to read and fall in love with Jane Austen novels, and Mr. Darcy is, of course, the dream man.”
Fiona whistled.
“Too bad none of the guys dressed up!” Anu called out.
Nick shrank in his seat. The camera's panned to Owen. He shrugged.
“While Jane Austen was fairly sparse in her descriptions of food,” Anastasia continued, “we do have historical records of what was served during the Regency period. We're all looking forward to some inspired Regency Christmas desserts. Let's start baking!”
In the Regency period, people tended to do a lot of boiling—boiling meats, boiling fruits, boiling puddings. It made sense, as they didn't have antibiotics or filtered water. But still. Boiled dough wrapped around apples was not the most enticing dessert.
I hadn't fully planned my dish because I had been busy with Owen, but I did know that in addition to the dumplings, I was going to make ices and ice creams. Though overdone, the Regency period was obsessed with flavored ices. Jane Austen even mentioned apricot ices in her novel The Beautiful Cassandra. The thing I loved most about Jane Austen's novels was how idyllic they were. A few well-to-do families in a cozy village—that was how I liked my romance novels, thank you very much.
I looked over at Amber. She was going very avant-garde. She had a distillery set up, and judging from the smell, she was charring fruit in the oven.
I was going to go in a less-crazy direction with my dessert. The plan was to make an apple dumpling with a honey pistachio ice cream, to capture the nuts that they ate a lot of back then. I was going to boil the apple dumpling first, weirdly enough, but then I was going to deep-fry it and crack it open like an egg, nestling the ice cream inside with gooseberries for tartness, like a cozy little winter nest. The presentation might not be the most extravagant, but I was going to make it look pleasing with how I arranged the little bites. To give it an extra flair, I had special china I'd found at a thrift store. It was old porcelain with hand-painted birds and flowers around the edges.
