Dear Santa: A Bad Boy Christmas Romance

by Lulu Pratt

  Zane parks and we both look around, making sure there isn’t anyone hanging around. It’s early morning, so there would only be a few people at the worst. We seem to have lucked out, because neither of us can spot anyone.

  I get out of the car and my stomach gives a little bit of a pitch, but after a second of holding onto the frame of my beat-up old sedan, it passes.

  “Are you okay?”

  I smile at Zane’s question and wave it off, stepping around the car to get by his side. “Actually, maybe I should just go ahead and tell you,” I say as we walk down from the parking lot to the lake itself.

  “Tell me what? You’ve been looking a little green this morning. You’re not nervous about telling our parents about the engagement, are you?”

  I press my lips together and look at Zane for a few moments, trying to decide if it is or isn’t the time. “I might as well say it, since I hinted,” I tell him.

  “Say what? Come on, Harper, just tell me whatever it is,” Zane says, taking both of my hands in his and pulling me close.

  “I guess you haven’t noticed how I’ve been avoiding coffee this morning,” I point out, resting my head against his chest and looking up at his face out of the corner of my eye.

  “I just figured you’re tired after that big project at work, and you got turned off to coffee after drinking so much of it last month to finish,” Zane says with a shrug.

  Since my first big project five years ago, I’ve taken on more and more responsibilities at the company we both work for, something I haven’t really thought about in light of my new state. I smile and my heart’s going a thousand beats a minute in my chest, what if he hates what I have to tell him? But I might as well get it over with.

  “It’s because I found out this morning that… I’m pregnant,” I say, the words tumbling out in a rush at the end.

  For a few seconds Zane just stares at me. I look back up at him, hoping that this isn’t a precursor to him telling me how awful this is, hoping that he’s at least going to be able to come around to thinking it’s a good thing.

  “You’re pregnant? Really?” Zane’s eyes are getting bigger and he steps back to look at me.

  “Really and truly,” I say.

  “Wow! We’re going to have to get married a lot sooner then,” Zane tells me. I shake my head.

  “No, we’re going to get married in a year, just like we planned,” I counter.

  “You want to get married after you’ve had our baby?” Zane laughs.

  “Well, I sure as hell am not walking down the aisle fit to pop with some ugly maternity dress on me,” I say firmly.

  Zane laughs and pulls me back to him, lifting me up a little bit to kiss me. At first it’s sweet, just Zane showing me love and affection, and how happy he really is. Then, like it almost always does, the kiss turns into something else. His hands start to move over my body and in spite of the fact that it’s early and I’m tired from not sleeping much the night before, and everything else going on, I feel myself getting turned on.

  ZANE LEWIS

  It takes me a second to actually make sense of what Harper is saying. By the time I kiss her, I’m already really feeling it. I’d been half-wanting to make a move on my soon-to-be wife when I pulled into the parking lot, but hearing that she’s pregnant, carrying my future child, just sets me right over the edge. All I can think about is how much I want to show her I love her, how much I want to feel her body wrapped around mine with nothing in between us.

  I look around again quickly, making sure no one is coming, and I pull Harper down with me onto the grass, and she comes along eagerly. I feel hesitant to pin her to the grass, so I lift her onto me, but still press every inch of her body against mine.

  “You know, you’d think by now we’d remember to bring a blanket or something with us when we do this,” Harper murmurs against my lips as we start to slip each other’s clothes off.

  It’s a little after dawn, and the mosquitoes have already mostly disappeared for the night, but there’s a little chill in the air. As we get more and more naked I have to admit, for a second at least, that a blanket would have been a good idea.

  But we’re both too hot to care about it or anything but getting each other more naked. I kiss her again and again; it’s like I can’t stop. My hands get to work on her clothes, and slip up between her legs to stroke her. After five years of being with her, I know exactly how she likes it best, and right now the only thing I have on my mind is showing her how much I love her.

  “I love how wet you get,” I murmur in her ear, cradling her against me while I find her clit by touch and begin to rub it in slow, tight little circles.

  Harper moans, shuddering against me, and her hand reaches for my already-hard, throbbing, aching cock. I groan at the feeling of her fingers wrapping around me, stroking me slowly, almost mimicking what I’m doing to her.

  “Are we taking our time or are we here to get this done?” I nip at the sensitive little spot along Harper’s throat in response to her question, sliding one finger inside of her tight, wet pussy.

  “Right now,” I continue, “I’m all about getting you off as many times as I can before we need to head the rest of the way home.”

  Harper chuckles and trembles in my arms as I add a second finger, working her slowly but steadily.

  “Fuck, God… Zane…” Harper’s hand tightens around my cock and it’s hard for me to focus on her. It feels too good.

  “You know exactly how to touch me, you have no idea how hot that is, how great it is,” I tell her, working my fingers a little faster.

  “You too. God… you are so, so good at this,” Harper says, gasping as I barely brush my fingertips against her clit.

  “They say that it’s good to keep having as much sex as possible while you’re pregnant,” I say, and Harper chuckles breathlessly.

  “Good thinking,” she says, and I feel my cock somehow getting even harder, thinking about having as much sex as possible with the beautiful woman clinging to me as I touch her.

  I kiss her again as I work her pussy, getting her hotter and wetter, feeling her get more and more turned on by the moment. I hold her body against mine, smiling to myself as Harper begins to slow her stroking of my cock, even as she gets closer and closer to climax.

  “Aren’t you going to…” Harper doesn’t finish the sentence, and I shake my head, too turned on to even talk for a moment.

  I want to be inside her so badly, but I also want to make her feel as good as possible before I do.

  “Not yet,” I say, slowly rubbing her clit. Harper cries out, and I feel her muscles clench around me as her climax starts, her whole body shuddering.

  I work her right up until I feel her body relax against me, and slowly, very slowly, withdraw, bringing my fingers up to my mouth to taste her. She tastes just as good as ever, and knowing I got her off, tasting it on my fingers, makes me even more turned on than ever.

  It only takes Harper a minute or two to recover, or so it seems to me, and we’re kissing again, touching each other. I’m guiding the tip of my cock up against her soaking wet folds. I hold her close as I slide into her, groaning against her neck as I feel her tight, wet pussy wrapping around me.

  I let Harper do most of the work at first, twisting her hips as she rides me. Then after a few moments I can’t even help myself anymore, I have to get involved. I thrust up into her, hard and fast, and we’re just going at it without any kind of restraint at all, not even caring if we’re about to get caught.

  I try to hold back a little while longer, but it’s impossible. Harper feels too good wrapped tight around me. I press Harper’s body against mine as I feel the first jolting shocks of pleasure coursing through me. I kiss her hungrily as we both hit our climax together, riding through it until we’re both exhausted.

  I blank out for a moment, and when I come back, Harper’s breathing is just beginning to slow. We’re both drenched in sweat, but we’ll cool off quickly, it’s not the really hot t
ime of year yet.

  “We should probably get to the house before the parents start worrying,” Harper says.

  I bring her hand, with her engagement ring, up to my lips and kiss it. “We’re going to keep this between us for a while, right? The baby, I mean. Obviously we’re going forward with telling them about being engaged,” I say.

  Harper thinks about it and nods.

  “I want to keep it between us until some of the excitement about us being engaged wears off,” Harper tells me.

  “It’s kind of appropriate, when you think about it. Considering how much of our relationship we’ve kept a secret from them over the years.”

  Harper giggles and climbs off me, and we start getting dressed.

  “Now that I think about it, it’s kind of perfect,” Harper says as we finally walk back to the car. We should get to our parents’ houses just in time.

  “You’re still sure that you want to have our wedding on my parents’ anniversary?”

  Harper nods.

  “Since we started out on their anniversary, it feels right,” she says. I give her hand a squeeze and we get into the car to head the last few miles to our parents’ houses right next to each other, and think about the fact that it actually does feel right that we’ll be starting our new lives together as married people on the anniversary of my parents’ wedding.

  “Let’s get there and let them know, then,” I say, starting the car. I pull out of the parking lot at the lake, glancing at it in the rear-view mirror, and I think to myself that I can’t think of anywhere else I would have rather learned about our future.

  Going Down

  By Simone Sowood and Lulu Pratt

  Some people have a bucket list, I have a fuck-it list

  When a brochure arrives at my mansion, the woman on the cover goes straight to the top.

  But she’s only interested in selling me stuff.

  That’s fine, I’m no stranger to the chase and I always capture my prey.

  After one taste, my list goes out the window.

  She’s all I can think about.

  Until I find out she’s secretly working for my asshole brother.

  My brother thinks he can use her to take me down?

  As if.

  The only way I’m going down… is on her.

  ***A steamy STANDALONE contemporary romance with a smoking hot hero. No cliffhanger, no cheating, and a guaranteed happily-ever-after.***

  One

  ANDREW

  “Fucking hell,” I groan as blinding rays of sunlight creep through the curtains I failed to close last night.

  The pain across my forehead immediately intensifies, forcing me out of bed to yank the damned things closed. Since I’m already up, I decide to make use of the bathroom before returning to my spot in the middle of the king-sized bed.

  Brushing my teeth, I realize with a frustrated scowl that I didn’t even drink enough last night to account for this headache. So what the hell is it? I’m truly lost until I catch a whiff of a nauseous scent on my undershirt.

  That damn bartender from last night comes to mind. She’d practically drowned herself in the cheap fragrance. I’d fucked her against the hood of my car after last call and I guess the smell seeped into my own clothing.

  Pulling off my shirt and boxers, I’m on a mission to eradicate the smell as well as my headache. The first step is a steaming hot shower.

  As the spray of water scorches my skin, I mentally catalog the events of the last few weeks. Everything is going according to plan. Last night I’d been able to check the redheaded bartender off my list.

  I have a bucket list of types of women I want to fuck. There’s a list of more than two-hundred boxes that I want to check off before I turn thirty. So far I’ve ticked seventy boxes. Not bad considering I still have two years before my thirtieth birthday.

  Fucking a woman in all fifty states had settled a large chunk of the items on the list. I’d traveled from state to state working on my paintings last winter as well as enjoying the local flavor every single night.

  Since returning home six months ago, progress down the list slowed substantially but I wasn’t at a standstill by any means. I just need to think of new tactics to go after what I want.

  With the hotheaded bartender checked off, it’s time to focus my attention on the rest. There’s an entire section for career woman I haven’t explored yet and I think it’s about time that I do.

  A hot weather girl, naughty nurse or bossy lawyer should be a good start.

  It can’t be that hard to rack up a few more, especially since summertime is here and women are practically out in spades looking for their next fling. At least that’s all they’ll be getting from me.

  I don’t do long term. Under any circumstances. It’s never happening. Not once have I met a pussy special enough to make me commit to a lifetime of routine and boring sex in the missionary position. A shudder runs through me just thinking about it.

  Misty down at Channel Five news has been screaming for my affections at the last few events we’ve attended. But little does miss sunny days know, she’s about to get my undivided attention.

  She’s blonde with tits the size of Texas and a Colgate smile. What’s not to like? I decide to give her a call later as I step out of the shower and onto the heated tile flooring.

  With a towel wrapped around my waist, I slick my fingers through the short tufts of hair, deciding to sort it out later because a cup of coffee is calling my name. The shower had helped with the smell but I’m hoping a serious dose of caffeine will eliminate the headache.

  In my kitchen, I head to the single-serve coffee machine my housekeeper, Gladys, installed for the days she isn’t here. Being Sunday, she has the day off and I’m left to fend for myself. As much as anyone would have to do with a fully stocked fridge overflowing with their favorite meals.

  Gladys always outdoes herself.

  Hovering near the counter, I drink the strong Colombian coffee like it’s water. My eyes barely take in the old but polished features of my kitchen because it’s the same thing I’ve looked at for years. After inheriting the place at the age of twenty-one, it’s been my bachelor pad ever since. Only minimal updates have been made over the years to preserve the historic structure.

  Halfway done with my second mug of coffee, I open the fridge to inspect the contents and Gladys didn’t disappoint.

  “Hell yeah,” I say, pulling out the Tupperware full of her famous baked ziti.

  Never mind the fact that it’s nine in the morning, Gladys’ baked ziti is perfect for any time of day.

  With it heating in the microwave, I make my way to the front hall to inspect the pile of mail I’ve neglected all week. It’s stacked neatly so I grab it and begin flipping through envelopes.

  Bills. Event invites. Credit card offers. Coupons for services that I will never need.

  The usual bullshit.

  A brightly colored leaflet catches my eye. Well, not so much the leaflet but the woman on it.

  She’s fucking hot. Even though it’s just a headshot, the photo sends weird signals throughout my body.

  The woman is a brunette with eyes darker than my morning coffee. She has the face of an angel. Everything about it is feminine and soft, from her slightly rounded cheeks to her small nose and her full pink lips.

  Her neck is fucking perfection. The pallor of its complexion is begging me to mark it with my mouth and show the world that she’s been marked off my list.

  Flawless, straight white teeth are bared by her warm smile and I can just imagine the feel of those full lips wrapped snuggly around my shaft as I pump deep into her throat. In an instant my mind transports me to a scene with her kneeling before me, her knees digging into the cold hardwood floor as she takes me into her hot, wet mouth.

  Holy hell.

  Never in my life have I been so damn turned on by the idea of someone. And I can’t even see the rest of her! An urgency I can’t explain comes over me and I know I need to se
e the rest of her.

  I need her. If the tent rising at the front of my towel is any indication, this sexy brunette is going to be next tick on my bucket list. The need growing inside of me is carnal and I intend to satisfy my hunger.

  Scanning the leaflet, it’s for a wealth management firm situated in the center of Greenwich that I’ve never heard of before.

  Tossing the rest of the mail on the table, I turn and head back to the kitchen still staring at the leaflet. Mentally, I’m updating my checklist all the while. This woman is divine and I’ve got to sample her for myself.

  Despite its rocky start, today is turning out to be good after all.

  The day I can add “fucked a woman on a leaflet” to my running total will be a good day indeed.

  Two

  ANDREW

  This morning I wake up with a mission. I’m going to meet the vixen on the leaflet if it’s the last thing I do.

  By early Monday afternoon, I’m pulling into the small parking lot outside of the office building advertised in the leaflet. I didn’t make an appointment, but I’m pretty confident that I can easily make myself a priority.

  My last name holds weight around this town and I don’t have a problem taking advantage of that fact.

  Cutting the engine of my ‘67 Camaro, I take a moment to stare up at the building. Castle Wealth Management. The building isn’t big by any means, nor is it flashy which I imagine works well for their exclusive clientele.

  In the small lobby, I shoot a toothy grin at the older lady behind the desk and pull the leaflet out of my back pocket. Before I can speak, her eyes double in size like she’s seen a celebrity.

  “How can I help you today?” She gushes and I swear her cheeks turn pink as she waits for my response.