Daphne's Christmas Flame

by Carol Storm

  Daphne’s Christmas Flame

  The 12 Days of Christmas, Book Three

  By

  Carol Storm

  ©2015 by Blushing Books® and Carol Storm

  All rights reserved.

  No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

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  Storm, Carol

  Daphne’s Christmas Flame

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-68259-198-7

  Cover Design by ABCD Graphics & Design

  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the Author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.

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  Table of Contents:

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  About Carol Storm

  Ebook Offer

  Blushing Books Newsletter

  About Blushing Books

  CHAPTER ONE

  “It’s so big!” Daphne Hart stifled a gasp as she gazed at the vast artificial lake. The shapely redhead was standing on top of a new hydroelectric dam that was the pride of San Reynaldo. The chattering crowd all around her hardly noticed the brief look of sadness on her lovely face. The engineers, politicians, and journalists were all very excited. But Daphne felt hurt and shocked. No matter how hard she tried, the flame-haired English fashion model just couldn’t accept what she saw.

  The whole valley was gone. Her entire childhood was a hundred meters underwater.

  “It is time for your speech,” the governor of the province said quietly.

  “Right, my speech.” Daphne couldn’t help shooting the gorgeous governor a dirty look that no one else could see. The two of them had a turbulent history that went clear back to her childhood. But the stunning redhead with the simmering temper refused to lose her cool. No sooner had she given her handsome tormentor a poisonous glare than she was suddenly all smiles again, flashing her electric-blue eyes at the crowd and reciting her brief, carefully written speech from memory.

  “As a true daughter of San Reynaldo I am so happy to be here today,” she cried breathlessly, “and proud to help the new government of San Reynaldo to build a better future for the people. This dam is only the first of many exciting new projects. Together we shall…” Daphne stumbled, struggling to remember the final sentence in the prepared script. Here and there a few people chuckled. “Oh, yes. Together we shall build a bridge to a brighter tomorrow. Felice Navidad!”

  The chuckles of the crowd swelled into laughter and cheers as Daphne tossed in the final holiday wish on her own. The new government did not approve of Christmas, but the people did. Daphne enjoyed wishing everyone a Merry Christmas. The Spanish phrase brought back so many childhood memories of Christmas in San Reynaldo. Back then Daphne had not been a glamorous globetrotting fashion model. She was just a chubby child with a weakness for the local sweetbread, while the new governor of the province had merely been a handsome stable hand.

  “Happy now?” she asked, smiling sweetly at the provincial governor while the crowd was still cheering her speech.

  “Yes, I am happy. This project took much time and effort to complete, and now it is done. The slum dwellers in our overcrowded cities will have electricity and clean water for the first time in their lives. Surely progress means more than a few… pleasant memories?” Victor Sebastian had changed. Even though they had grown up together, the young, ambitious provincial governor came off like a cruel, mocking stranger. The lean, dark face with the haughty chiseled features and fine bone structure was the same one Daphne had been dreaming of since she was a child. But those full lips were set in a firm line, and those dark brown eyes were very cold.

  “You did this,” she hissed. “My work is in London, but you dragged me all the way to South America just to ruin my Christmas. You invited me to this photo-op just to punish me!” Her angry sapphire-blue eyes flashed defiance even as she battled the urge to dissolve into weak, foolish tears. She didn’t know this man. The sweet, good-looking stable hand with the warm smile and toffee-brown eyes who had once given her riding lessons had grown into a ruthless leader without a heart. He was all calculation and coldness now, all piercing dark eyes and cruelly handsome features. Daphne had worked so hard to forget Victor. Yet she was still spellbound, a moth drawn to his flame.

  “Christmas is still three weeks away,” the governor pointed out, with infuriating logic. “I am glad you came home, Daphne. It’s only right that we should put aside our differences for the
common good, especially at this time of year. But I didn’t expect such a passionate reunion.”

  “Passionate reunion!” Goaded by Victor’s lazy sarcasm, Daphne all but screeched the words. Just then the governor’s strikingly attractive assistant coolly interrupted their heated exchange.

  “Your Excellency, the photographers need you and Miss Hart to pose for a few publicity pictures. Her family once owned the entire valley. Today the dam belongs to all the people. This is change, and change is the image we want to project. San Reynaldo is a country on the move.” The prim, sharp-featured but unmistakably feminine brunette gave Daphne a challenging look as she tucked a slim yellow pencil behind her ear.

  “I’m an English girl,” Daphne replied quietly. “But I grew up here in San Reynaldo. It broke my father’s heart to sell the land. But the people come first. That’s why I’ve come home.”

  “Don’t mind Antonia,” Victor purred, putting his arm around Daphne’s narrow waist. “She’s brilliant at public relations, but she’s still her papa’s daughter.” His teasing didn’t seem to fluster the crisply efficient female assistant. Watching the girl slither off in her sensible dark suit to assemble the photographers Daphne felt an odd stab of jealousy. She knew she was looking good. She was wearing a pale blue and silver Dior dress that highlighted her lush figure and her electric blue eyes. But she wasn’t dressed for the board room. And she wasn’t really a part of Victor’s life.

  His smart-looking assistant obviously was.

  “Her papa?” Daphne ignored her body’s primal response to Victor’s public embrace. He felt so good against her, his long, lean body so hard and hot. Past memories rose up in painful detail, vivid and unsettling. Daphne’s heart lurched, her wounded pride battling with treacherous yearning.

  “Antonia’s father is President Santos, the reformer. We overturned the old government together. I am his right hand, his successor. But Antonia did not get her position on my staff through family influence. She is clever and very capable in her own right.”

  “How lovely for her.” Daphne knew she was being a brat. But she couldn’t focus on her hurt feelings. Everyone began snapping pictures the moment Victor helped her climb up onto the raised platform at the top of the dam. Daphne put on her most brilliant smile, knowing she had to give them a good show. Back in London, Albert King was counting on her. The legendary modeling agent had taken her under his wing when she was a complete unknown. Now Daphne was in demand everywhere, and she would be paid well for her appearance at the dam opening. She couldn’t let bald, fat, wisecracking Bertie down. She was a fashion model, after all. Looking happy even when she felt miserable was part of the job.

  “Welcome home, Miss Hart. San Reynaldo has missed you.” Victor’s formal words were strictly for the benefit of the crowd. So why did his smile make her stomach turn flips?

  “Glad to be back,” Daphne chirped, ignoring the hollow feeling deep down in her chest. Victor’s smile was just about politics. The two of them shook hands in front of the shiny bronze plaque, and she pretended to turn the enormous wheel that managed the surging water.

  “More, Your Excellency! Please give us more!”

  They all wanted him to help her turn the wheel. It was all just public relations, yet Daphne was very aware of the private feelings between them. It was hot. Their hands kept lightly brushing. No one complained when Victor stripped off his jacket and tie. His body was sheer muscular perfection, and the contrast between his crisp white shirt and his dark sun-bronzed face and arms was perfect. It was cultivated elegance matched with primitive male strength. The journalists lapped it up.

  As for Daphne, she couldn’t very well avoid playing up to Victor a little for the cameras. First she clowned a bit, pretending to struggle with the heavy wheel. Then, when he came on strong beside her, she didn’t shy away from brushing against him. Instead, she leaned into him, savoring the friction. And she kept fluttering her lashes and gazing up at him with a radiant smile. The news people were a jaded lot, yet they loved it. Daphne knew it had something to do with chemistry, with the history she had with Victor. Together the two of them were a team. They could sell anything. But what was the point? She’d blown her chances with Victor years ago. Perhaps he’d forgiven her, and just moved on. Perhaps he’d only flooded her family lands out of pure ambition. But if so, ambition would surely push him into bed with the new president’s attractive, hard-working daughter.

  Well, good for them!

  “All right, that’s enough.” Victor cut things off just as Daphne was beginning to enjoy herself. His sexy voice was low and controlled, but he sounded a little hoarse. He was scowling, too, like a man bored by the whole charade. And why not? It was all just make-believe. The pale-skinned redhead shivered a bit, suddenly chilled by the light breeze making tiny ripples on the artificial lake. San Reynaldo was a warm and sunny South American country. But the Andes were nearby, and the breezes sweeping down from the snow-capped peaks could be quite brisk, especially in December. Daphne rubbed her bare arms, thinking wistfully of her childhood in the lost valley, when Christmas meant sweetbread and hot chocolate, and presents and laughter and love.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, if you will follow me down to the conference room, a continental breakfast is waiting, along with hot coffee, tea, and anything else you might desire. His Excellency Governor Sebastian will begin the formal presentation in exactly half an hour.” Ever the poised, professional, Antonia began shepherding the flock of journalists to the waiting elevators.

  The woman was perfect. She was certainly the right type for a man like Victor Sebastian.

  “Well, I think I’ll follow the herd down to the watering hole, and get myself a cup of tea.” Daphne tried to sound casual, though there was a bit of a catch to her voice. She felt all mixed up, her emotions roiling, her nerves on edge. Part of her wanted to put her head on Victor’s shoulder and cry because the old days were gone. But part of her wanted him to notice that she was a grown up woman now and not a chubby little girl. Victor had made love to her once before, but that had been a tragic mistake for both of them. Daphne immediately pushed the distracting picture out of her mind. She needed a strong cup of tea. She also needed a cold shower!

  “Tea can wait.” Victor took her arm, firmly but gently, as though he was still handling horses and Daphne were a skittish runaway mare. “I want you to see what this dam is really all about.”

  “Aside from revenge?” Daphne was feeling jittery as Victor steered her away from the elevators. He guided her down a little-used service staircase that was clearly restricted to authorized personnel. Still, she didn’t think he wanted her. Maybe he wanted to gloat over his triumph, erasing an entire valley from the earth… along with all her memories and her past, a past he clearly didn’t value. Or maybe he had a list of statistics to explain why her hurt feelings didn’t count. After all, one broken heart was worth a lot less than a billion-dollar dam.

  “Here, come this way.”

  Already they were at the bottom of the stairs. Stiffening her spine, Daphne held her head up high as Victor led her down a long, dimly lit corridor, her high heels clicking and clacking on the clean, freshly waxed floor.

  “This is the machine room,” he announced, holding the door open for her as she entered the vast, brightly lit chamber. Gigantic generators were all around them, thrumming with power. The air was warm and slightly oily-smelling, very different from the crisp lake breezes up on the surface.

  “Are we under water now?” Daphne was intrigued in spite of herself. If she’d ever thought about it, she would have pictured the generators as being like giant water-wheels, stuck out under a waterfall somewhere, turning over and over as the water rushed past. But this place was still and quiet, except for that strange humming sound. Funny how there was a feeling of power all around, though. Like a great leashed force just waiting to break loose and sweep everything away.

  “The water is under us,” Victor replied, in a husky voice. He was gentle, not agg
ressive, yet the warmth of his big body seemed to hypnotize her. Unconsciously she reeled backwards, away from the heat. “We just came down from a high wall, holding all the vast power of the lake in check. That’s the dam. But down here, we have channeled all that power into a single central shaft. The pent-up pressure of millions of gallons of water is directed into one long pipe called the penstock.”

  “Oh, my.” Daphne’s rounded derriere collided with the back wall with a gentle thump. The two of them were in the shadows now, hidden from view by one of the massive generators. “And this penstock – it’s below us right now?” She pictured the hard shaft, filled with rushing water. Her knees went slightly rubbery as she imagined all that power unleashed!

  “The penstock is down here.” Victor demonstrated with simple directness, clapping a broad, warm hand directly over the heated juncture between Daphne’s thighs. “Here is where the penstock comes into contact with the turbine. The water turns the wheels, the turbine powers the generator, and all of it can be done over and over, endlessly.” He demonstrated, letting his hand rub against her, above her panties but beneath the elegant Dior dress. The contact made Daphne moan and squirm… and remember. Suddenly she was nineteen again, sneaking out with the stable boy behind her mama’s back. Papa would be so shocked if he knew. Mama would be furious.

  “You’re deliberately turning me on,” she accused, snapping back to the present. Her soft blue eyes flew open wide. “Is this about revenge, Victor?”

  “No.” His powerful voice stilled her struggles. “This is about power. Close your eyes and feel the power surging between us.” He continued to stroke her with his hand, though by now he had somehow breached the flimsy silken barrier of her panties. His fingers encircled her inmost nub of pleasure. “Feel me inside you,” he commanded. “Close your eyes and feel us surging together.”