All She Wants 4 Christmas

by Jessica Lee

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  All She Wants 4 Christmas

  All She Wants 4 Christmas

  By Jessica Lee

  Copyright © 2012 Jessica Lee

  Cover Artist: Mina Carter

  Smashwords edition

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are all fictitious products of the author’s imagination. They are not real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced electronically or used in whole or in part without written permission from the author. Unauthorized use or distribution is illegal. Exception given for review quotes.

  Disclaimer:

  Adult content. This book contains sexually explicit material, including sexual play between men, multiple partners, anal intercourse, sexual dominance, and graphic language. Please be advised that any reader sensitive to the above mentioned material may not wish to continue.

  Summary:

  What if on Christmas Eve all your darkest desires came to life…could you handle it?

  It's Christmas Eve, and all Monica Sims wants is for her fiancé, just once, to step outside his comfort zone. She loves him, and life is fine in their perfectly planned world. But Monica is ready for more. She takes a risk and shares with him her darkest fantasies: Domination. Submission. Surrendering to the will of more than one man. But her confession is more than her straitlaced boyfriend can handle—or so she thought.

  Dane knows exactly what he wants in bed: just him and Monica, his fiancée—alone. Simple, easy, vanilla sex was all he ever needed. That was until the night he found his fiancée in her office, watching—enjoying—a very naughty movie on her laptop. Determined to be the one to unleash her control, Dane decides to surprise her on Christmas Eve with a trip to a private fetish club. But they won't be alone.

  Contents

  Cover Page

  Copyright

  Summary

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Epilogue

  Other Available Titles

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  "Where are you taking me, Dane O'Laughlin?" Monica adjusted her blindfold once more and squirmed in her seat. "It's Christmas Eve, and you're being very naughty torturing your fiancée like this," she added. Though a part of her loved this unexpected side of him, the other hated not knowing what was coming next. "Santa's not going to bring you any presents in the morning if you don't come clean. Now." This time, she didn't hide the annoyance in her voice. He'd been teasing her all week about some big surprise, and she’d reached the end of her patience.

  "Just a few more minutes, Monica Sims."

  The rhythmic click of a turn signal sounded right before the car veered left, then bumped as if entering a driveway.

  "Are we here? Wherever here is?" Her palms literally itched to pull the damn blindfold off. She would have never gone for something like this a few years ago. The control freak in her would have flipped. But after three years of living with Dane in their perfectly planned world, she'd discovered having a firm grip on every moment in her life wasn't enough anymore. Monica needed more. She and Dane had been struggling to keep their relationship from falling apart. So when he'd seemed so excited about this surprise he had for her, she couldn't deny him.

  "All right. We're here."

  Monica went for the knotted silk at the back of her head.

  "No." Dane's warm hand clasped her fingers. "Not yet. Not till we're inside."

  "Inside where?" Monica's heart raced. "You know how being kept in the dark makes me edgy."

  "I know." Dane chuckled.

  He actually chuckled.

  Since when had he become this fun-loving, spontaneous, blindfold kind of man? For over a year, Monica had been telling him how she yearned to do something wild and crazy. Something completely out of character. Maybe even indulge in bringing a few of their sexual fantasies to life. Like the one that had plagued her dreams for the last two years after she'd stumbled on a certain porn video. She'd sat there, mesmerized, as a woman surrendered under the attention of three men. God help her, but the scene had been the hottest thing she'd ever witnessed. Dampness gathered in her panties at the recollection of the graphic images.

  Domination.

  Submission.

  She'd been overwhelmed by her physical reaction.

  Monica had played the movie over and over on her laptop, touching herself, reaching the most intense orgasms. Damn. She could only imagine what her climax would feel like if her fantasy ever became a reality. Monica had finally got up her nerve and confessed her secret fascination with being dominated and taken by more than one man. But her straitlaced, all-business fiancé had given her a shocked look as she'd revealed her darkest desires. He'd stared at her as if he were trying wrap his mind around what she was saying, then added that he had all he ever needed with her—and her alone—in his bed.

  A deep sigh exited her lungs.

  "What's wrong?" Dane's broad palm brushed her arm.

  "It's nothing." Nothing that losing a few of his inhibitions wouldn't cure. Whatever Dane had up his sleeve, sharing his fiancée—even for one night—was something Monica could never see happening.

  The car door slammed; then moments later, hers opened. Dane took her hand and helped her from the passenger seat. Her imagination had already painted the picture of what she assumed he'd planned. Probably some big dinner party where he'd invited her coworkers and friends to celebrate the holiday. Twigs of mistletoe hung in all the doorways, forcing a multitude of uncomfortable kisses on unsuspecting people. That would be about as wild as it would get. She loved him. Always would. But the man rarely stepped outside his comfort zone.

  Monica held on to Dane's arm, enjoying the hard feel of his bicep under her palm as he guided her across uneven pavement. The whoosh of an automated door greeted her next, followed by a cool blast of air conditioning across her face, lifting her hair from her nape. It might have been December, but living in the Deep South, you never knew from one minute to the next whether you'd be in a coat or shorts. She breathed deep, detecting a hint of cinnamon, cloves, and leather. Soft music played, sensual instrumental melodies that instantly had her wanting to sway her hips to the seductive sounds. From a distance, several whispered conversations filled the air.

  "Dane, where are we?"

  "Trust me, love. It will be worth the wait. I assure you." The innuendo laced within his words sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine and awakened her clit. What in the hell was he up to? She barely recognized the man on her arm tonight.

  The soft tap of footsteps neared, then stopped beside Dane.

  "Sir, if you'll follow me. Your accommodations are ready."

  Accommodations?

  A second later, they were moving again. Monica held tight and followed, more than a little self-conscious of what people must have thought of her walking in there with a red silk scarf covering her eyes.

  The jingle of keys alerted her that they must be close to their room. Dane slowed to a stop, a door latch clicked, and they moved forward once more.

  "Now can I take this off?" Monica touched the smooth cool surface of the material keeping her in the dark.

  Dane grasped her shoulders and turned her around.

  "Yes." His deep voice resonated at her ear. Then his hands were at the back of her head, untying the blindfold.

  The silk fell away, and Monica blinked against the sudden brightness of the room. It took a few seconds for her vision to clear, then the warm colors around her sharpened into focus.

  "Oh. My. God." Monica took one h
esitant step, then another toward the extra-large king-size bed filling the center of their "accommodations." She trailed her index finger over the leather cuff secured to the headboard, directly across from its twin on the other side. On the wall by the bed hung a collection of items she'd only seen online, never in living color: a couple of paddles, floggers, a ball gag, and various masks.

  Her heart pounded. Oh my God. The words looped inside her head. Monica dropped her hand to the soft, truffle-colored duvet draping the mattress. Never in her wildest dreams would she have expected Dane to want to—want to— Not after—

  "Dane—?"

  "Are you surprised?" He circled her waist with his arms and pulled her against his chest.

  "You could say that." She nodded.

  "Pleasantly surprised?" She didn't miss the wistful tone in his voice. Her pulse skipped.

  "Very," Monica whispered.

  "Good, because the night has only begun."

  Chapter Two

  Monica closed the door to the suite's bathroom and slumped against the wood. This was really happening. He'd actually taken her to a fetish club. Who would have ever thought? She sank her teeth into her lower lip, holding in her squeal of delight. Her head fell back between her shoulders and bumped the hollow surface. Something rattled behind her on the door, reminding her of why she'd come in there in the first place: she needed to change. Dane said he'd prearranged something for her to wear.

  She pivoted around and sucked in a startled breath.

  "Why, Mr. O'Laughlin. You have definitely been holding out on me." She grinned.

  The most gorgeous bloodred thong and bra hung from a velvet-covered hanger on a hook, along with a pair of snow-white, thigh-high fishnet stockings folded over the horizontal rod. Monica removed the items, sauntered over to the mirror, and held them up against herself for inspection. The color popped against her milky-white skin and serve as a dramatic contrast to her dark, shoulder-length auburn hair and green eyes. Scandalous. The only word that could describe her reflection. Oh yes, this was going to be a night she would never forget.

  After several minutes and probably a dozen or more rechecks in the mirror, Monica sashayed back into the bedroom. The red six-inch stilettos left for her by the dressing table were insane, but paired with her skimpy lingerie trio, she felt like one of those Victoria's Secret angels ready to strut the runway. She risked a glance in Dane's direction, where he sat on the edge of the bed, wearing only a pair of emerald green pajama bottoms. Her breath hitched. Judging by the adoring look on his face, one would have thought she had just dropped from heaven.

  "Christ, you're beautiful." The husky sound of arousal in his voice had her stomach flipping like a schoolgirl. He stood and headed toward her, his gaze never wavering from hers.

  Breathe, Monica. Don't forget to breathe.

  They'd been together for a total of four years, and she still considered Dane one of the most handsome men she'd ever known—six foot two, olive skin, and a head of dark hair he kept at a professional length, but not military short. He left it long enough on top that some of his natural wave remained, which she greatly appreciated. Dane stopped in front of her, his chest mere inches from her breasts. Monica reached up and threaded her fingers through the black-as-sin layers. Mmm— How she enjoyed those soft curls. Thick lashes hooded hazel eyes that held the power to make her quiver under their perusal.

  Yes, this was a wonderful idea. All the fire and passion she'd buried inside after he'd rejected her fantasies had come roaring back to life.

  "You like your present so far?" He cupped her face and traced her lower lip with his thumb.

  "It's perfect," she murmured right before his lips claimed hers.

  The weight of his passion and the heat of his kiss had her knees buckling, and if it wasn't for Dane's strength holding her in place, her rear would have hit the floor. He broke away long enough to mumble a request that sounded like "come with me." But he didn't need to ask—she would have followed this surprising new Dane anywhere.

  "On the bed," he commanded, backing her up until her thighs bumped the mattress.

  Monica lay back on the duvet and shimmied to the center. The hunger in Dane's expression as he watched her move tightened her nipples into sensitive nubs and made her pussy ache for his touch. Then he was over her, kissing her like she was his first taste of water after a brutal thirst.

  "Damn." He gasped. "I didn't think this night would ever get here." The warmth of his lips followed the curve of her neck. Monica lifted her chin and turned her head, wanting more of his wonderful attention.

  Dane grasped her arm, lifted it over her head, and slipped her wrist into one of the cuffs. He cinched the leather against her flesh and fastened it. Reflex had her yanking against the restraint, testing its strength. It didn't give. Monica swallowed, searching for moisture to coat her suddenly dry throat, and closed her eyes. Her head spun under the barrage of emotions—lust, excitement, apprehension. She didn't know what to feel first.

  "You okay?" The concern in his voice jerked her gaze to his.

  "Yeah." She nodded. "I'm good."

  A quirk of a smile curled one corner of his mouth, then he repeated the process on her other wrist.

  "How long—?" she managed to get out. Her breathing had reduced pants. "How long have you been planning this? I didn't think— This—"

  "Four months." He lowered his body over hers, pressing his hands into the mattress at either side of her head.

  Monica tugged at her restraints once more, caught off guard at how long he'd been putting this in motion. "Four months?"

  "That's right," he whispered into her ear, the effect lifting the hairs on her body. His bare chest grazed the hardened peaks of her nipples through her bra's thin material. She writhed under the sensation. Wanting more. "But I have a confession to make."

  She froze. "Confession?"

  He faced her. "I'll admit when you first revealed your fantasies to me, I was taken aback." Monica flicked her gaze away. It was embarrassing even now remembering that night. "It's okay." He placed a kiss to her temple. "Look at me." Dane's weight shifted, and then he was lying next to her on his side. He touched her chin and turned her head until she was looking at him. "But one night, when you thought I was sleeping, I saw you."

  "What do you mean, you saw me?" Oh lord, please don't tell me he caught me while I—

  "I saw you watching a movie on your laptop." Dane reached over and began to draw lazy circles around the hardened bud of her nipple. "A very naughty movie, at that."

  Monica groaned.

  It was torture—exquisite torture—waiting for him, hoping he'd caress the tip. She dug her fingernails into her palms, but she wasn't sure which situation had her worked up more—her arousal, or what Dane was about to reveal.

  "My God, you have no idea how hot that was. How hot you made me, watching you with your leg braced high on your desk, your breasts bare as you played with your nipple with one hand while stroking your pussy with the other." Dane continued his incessant loop with his fingertip.

  "Dane—" Monica breathed. He was driving her crazy. So close, yet not touching where she needed him to most.

  "And oh shit…when your back arched and your body shook with your orgasm, drawing that sweet moan from your throat"—he dropped his hand low on her belly, halting just above her mons—"I nearly came right there with you."

  "You liked that?" Her voice quivered, but there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it. She was on fire.

  "Yes. I did." He slid his palm lower, this time teasing the inside of her thigh. "Later, I searched your laptop and found out what it was that had my adorable computer geek of a fiancée so fired up—a foursome. Then I remembered the fantasies you'd shared with me a few nights earlier."

  "And—?" Monica sighed and rocked her hips, hoping to coax his hand a little closer to the blaze threatening to melt her down.

  "And I realized maybe I'd spoken too quickly about what I needed and what desires you d
eserve to have satisfied"—Dane's gaze swung back to Monica's, and the lust she found there left her starved for air—"by the man who loves you and wants to please you in every way imaginable."

  Monica couldn't have stopped the whimper falling from her lips if she'd tried. "Fuck me." Unbidden, her hips left the bed, arching toward her lover as if drawn to the drug they knew she had to have. "Dear God, Dane, if you love me like you say— Fuck me now." Shit. She was babbling. But at that very moment, she really didn't give a damn.

  "Baby, I'm going to do that and more." Dane rolled over and stood. "But I won't be alone."

  "What?" Monica yanked against the hold the cuffs had on her wrists. "Are you serious?" Her womb clenched, and the sudden wave of excitement had her pulse roaring in her ears. Dane circled the foot of the bed and headed toward the suite's door.

  "I overheard one of my partners at the firm talking about this very exclusive private club on the outskirts of Savannah, the one I've brought you to tonight. And after getting an ear and eyeful of what you've been craving, I decided to check it out."

  Dane went for the door handle and swung the wood wide. "After a health and background screening surely rivaling the CIA's, I was accepted as a member about eight weeks ago. That's when I met—for anonymity's sake—Bob and Dick here."

  "Bob and Dick?" Jesus, he is serious.

  "Hey, Danny," one of the men said.

  Danny? Not too much of a change, but it was enough to keep his identity private.

  The slaps of hands to backs in greeting a few feet away reverberated from the open doorway. Monica craned her neck, trying to sneak a peek. Curiosity was killing her. First one, then a second hunk of what she could only term "eye candy" brushed past her fiancé. Her head fell back on the pillow, and she knew her eyes were probably wide with shock. He actually planned to share her— And holy shit, did Dane know how to pick 'em.