Sexy Holiday Delights

by Shara Azod

  “Really, you’re going to bring that up?”

  “At least once a day, every day, for the rest of our lives. And then like Henry II of England, who founded a perpetual daily mass for his soul at Dore Abbey, I’m going to found a perpetual re-telling of the dicks in the dishwasher story. I guess that means I’ll have to establish a church or possibly a whole new religion. Thoughts?”

  “My thoughts are A), you’re such a nerd bringing in a reference from the late 1100s. And B) I don’t think they should’ve allowed you to study history because you use it for your own evil means; C) A dick story does not belong at any church function; and D) there’s a lot of things I’ll do with you including kicking off a coup, but I will not be part of any starting a fake religion for purposes of pure fuckery.”

  “Hey, Revelry, if you do start a church, can I be on the Board?”

  “Hell, yeah.”

  “Great. I’m going to put something together because we can use a 501c to our financial advantage. I say we establish our religion somewhere warm. Our ‘church’ can look like a resort. We’ll need a yacht, jet, and helicopter, of course. Taking a page out of some of those other ‘religions,’ we can start construction companies and invest in agriculture. If a group of no more than 15,000 members can build up a bank account of one hundred million, one billion shouldn’t be hard, especially because our religion won’t require you to fuck your sister.”

  “True.”

  “I’m shocked that neither of you has been struck by lightning yet,” Cayenne said.

  Of course the raving lunatics at her table ignored her. “So what’s your title going to be, Revelry? How about Shaman Reverend Prophetess Apostolic Patriarch Archbishop Life Coach?”

  “Sounds good to me. Or we could just call me the MMFIC—Main-Mother-Fucker-In-Charge. Otherwise, our letterhead is going to have to make use of small font.”

  “You two need to sit further away from me. Like at a table on the planet formally known as Pluto.”

  “Stop being a whiner. We’ll give you a title, too. How about Apostolic Disciple Justice?”

  “How about I’ll see my own ‘hell no’ and raise you one ‘no fucking way in hell.’ I’m going to keep my Baptist behind at a Baptist church where the badass chick that leads the flock has one title—Rev. Dr.”

  “Well, obviously, she’s not trying hard enough. If she applied herself she could be Rev. Dr. Archbishop Cardinal Elder, or something along those lines.”

  “I’m going to tell on you to her.”

  “Won’t matter. Y’all are Baptist, meaning y’all believe in soul liberty so I can interpret Scripture anyway I want to.”

  Tessa jumped in. “They also believe in separation of church and state, meaning no establishment clause and free exercise of religion.”

  “I would just like to remind both of you that it’s the season of Advent, one of the principle celebrations of the liturgical year. Show some respect.”

  “I am. I’m going to model my religion off of those already there. Is it plagiarism if I copy and paste stuff from other religion’s constitutions, bylaws, and statements of faith?”

  “Yes, it’s plagiarism, and it’s unethical.”

  Revelry went on without even listening to her response. “Also, you’re going to be our attorney. We can’t pay you until membership increases.”

  “That would be a no to the infinite power. I don’t want your thirty pieces of silver.”

  “By the way, you’re in charge of membership,” Revelry said ignoring her objections.

  “You cannot be a member of clergy. I’m not even sure how you’re a doctor since you’re almost always on the verge of killing people.”

  “I would only kill people I was sure I could bring back to life.”

  “If you were successful at the whole raising the dead, the people would be zombies,” Tessa threw in helpfully.

  “Can we technically count zombies as members for when I start my religion?” Revelry asked.

  “You’re done for the day. You’re not allowed to say anything else until I call in a real priest, a rabbi, and a Baptist preacher to cleanse this whole area of the city. Because I knew I was coming out with you, I have all three on standby,” Cayenne said as she pulled out her phone.

  “Oh, snap. You really have clergy on speed dial?” Tessa asked.

  “I more than have clergy on speed dial. I have clergy here. I’m just texting them to let them know to come cleanse this place,” Cayenne responded as she pulled out her holy water and sprinkled it about.

  Ten minutes later, after the priest, the rabbi, and the Baptist preacher departed

  “That was so unnecessary,” Revelry said.

  “Probably,” Cayenne said. “But it was so worth it. Besides, there wasn’t anything wrong with a little prayer.”

  Taking in Revelry and Tessa, and knowing the mayhem they could get up to, she amended her thought. There wasn’t anything wrong with a lot of prayer.

  “I’m going to put that video of your dishwasher and assorted dicks on my website, so sit there and gloat if you want. I’m not the one on video smashing dicks.”

  “Speaking of which, I’ve thought about what I’m going to do to get even with Drago. It will require your help.”

  “Why should we help you?”

  “Because it’s revenge and I know you can’t resist a little revenge, or a whole lot of revenge, or a super-abundancy of revenge.”

  “Okay, fine. Of course, I’ll help.”

  “As will I,” Tessa said. “If—and only if—you get me an entire one of these cakes to go.”

  Considering the sheer amount of work that was going to need to go into her plan, buying Tessa that cake was a no brainer, despite the eighty dollar price tag.

  Now all she had to do was go home and wait for her orders to arrive. Rennes was so not going to love Christmas decorating, which was why she was going to enjoy it that much more.

  Chapter Ten: Bent over a Carol

  Rennes had been waiting for this moment all day. And by this moment, he meant coming home to Cayenne. His staff had probably been waiting for this moment all day, too, since apparently he’d been a dick all day.

  Unlocking the door, and spotting her, he exhaled. He’d called ahead to make sure Cayenne was there. Just because she was there forty minutes ago didn’t mean she’d be there now. Cayenne was the kind of woman who was always on the move.

  She was still dressed in her work attire—pencil skirt paired with a long-sleeved tailored fit dress shirt that showed a hint of the treasure beneath since the first button was somewhere along her sternum rather than at her throat. Cayenne had ditched the jacket, but she still had on her three inch pumps.

  Rennes couldn’t resist walking over to her. Pulling her in close, he softly kissed her cheek.

  “Good evening.”

  “Good evening, Rennes.”

  “Something smells delicious,” he said.

  “Yes, I ordered dinner.”

  He pulled her closer. “I wasn’t talking about dinner smelling good. I was talking about you.”

  “Oh,” she said, suddenly looking anywhere but at him. “Thank you.”

  Ah, he’d shaken Cayenne. Good, because she’d turned him inside out. Rennes allowed her to step out of his embrace. It was clear that she needed space, and he’d let her have it…for now.

  He tried not to gloat about regaining the upper hand, but then she bent over the couch, and he saw the tops of thigh highs. Upper hand, lost. She turned, and put her hand to her throat.

  “I didn’t know you were still there,” she said, before laying down the remote she’d just retrieved from the couch cushions.

  Didn’t know, my ass. That little minx was testing his control. Of which he had none. The only thing he loved more than a woman wearing thigh highs and garters was Cayenne Creighton wearing them…in his house…bent over his couch.

  Tossing off his jacket and tie, he made his way over to her. She didn’t move an inch. Of course, s
he had nowhere to go. Good.

  “Turn back around, Cayenne.”

  “But dinner. I got all of your favorites,” she said.

  “Then I guess I’ll be eating you.”

  Cayenne opened her mouth to say something, but no sound came out. Whatever she might’ve thought about saying was cut off when Rennes pulled her against him and took her lips. He kissed her the way he’d always wanted to: with everything he had. And she opened her mouth wider for more.

  “Rennes,” she moaned, when the need for air finally forced them apart.

  “Are you wearing garters and thigh highs, Cayenne?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, of course you bent over to tease me with them.”

  She didn’t hesitate to answer. “Of course.”

  “You have two choices, Cayenne. Bend over this couch and I fuck you raw, or head to my bedroom, and bend over the bed and I fuck you raw.”

  “That sounds like a win-win to me, Rennes,” Cayenne said, as she unbuttoned her shirt, revealing a lace and satin bra.

  Fuck.

  “How about I bend over this couch and you fuck me, and then we go to your bedroom where you fuck me some more.”

  Before he got a chance to respond, Cayenne lifted her skirt, spread her legs and bent over the couch. He had the perfect view of her plump ass and muscular thighs. The view just didn’t get any better than that.

  And then it did when Cayenne turned her head and smiled.

  Wanting to feel her skin on his, Rennes peeled off his shirt and undershirt. Skimming her lush hips, he took a moment and simply scented her. Honeysuckle. She smelled of honeysuckle. He kissed his way down the side of her neck before nipping her collarbone. Something about that indent turned him on.

  He liked the way Cayenne leaned into his touch. He loved the way she let go because it indicated trust. She’d closed her eyes, giving herself over to his care.

  Rennes turned her slightly to better access her lips. She smelled like honeysuckle, but she tasted like mint and chocolate. Fitting.

  Palming her breasts, he plucked her nipples, eliciting a soft gasp. Her breasts overflowed his hands. He needed nothing between them. Undoing the buttons at her wrist, he relieved Cayenne of her shirt before slowly, slowly relieving her of her bra.

  His hands didn’t leave her breasts for long. It felt as if he’d waited most of his adult life to touch Cayenne like this. Probably because he had.

  Rennes had been on summer leave when he’d first met her. His own father had seen the way he’d looked at Cayenne, and had listed a number of ways he’d kill him if he messed with her.

  If not for that warning, Rennes would’ve messed with her; Cayenne would’ve let him; and they would’ve been welcoming a baby the next February. He’d have been tossed out of West Point, but Rennes would’ve moved to Houston so Cayenne could finish her studies at Rice.

  Law school and internships, and his enlistment had kept them apart for the next eight years. And then he was busy building a business and readjusting to civilian life, and she was busy being a highly sought-after attorney. Every moment had led them to this one. Rennes would not allow anything else to keep them apart.

  Sliding her panties off, Rennes slid a finger into her sex, testing her readiness. She rocked into his touch, silently demanding more. He smiled, and gave her clit a gentle pinch.

  “Yessssssssssss, Rennes.”

  “That’s right, Rennes,” he said. “You want me?”

  “Yes.”

  “What do you want of me?” he asked. Rennes had to know because he’d already given Cayenne every piece of himself.

  She didn’t hesitate. “Everything.”

  Freeing himself, he stepped out of his pants and thrust into her heat, drawing profanities from both of them.

  “Fuck! Yes!”

  “Shit! Fuck!”

  Rennes held onto Cayenne’s ass, and pounded into her sex. So good. So damn good, he thought. It could be better.

  Pulling out, he delivered a hard spank to her ass.

  “That’s for tempting me.”

  He delivered another spank on the opposite cheek. “That’s for tempting me and doing nothing about it.”

  “That makes zero sense,” Cayenne complained. “You can’t spank me for that.”

  “I don’t need a reason to spank this tempting ass, Cayenne. Just like I don’t need a reason to palm these,” he said a moment before kneading her breasts. “I just need you wet for me. Besides, from your reaction, I know you like my hand on your ass, which is why it’ll be there as often as my fingers are in your pussy.”

  “That’s all well and good, but I don’t want your fingers right now. I want your cock.”

  “Cayenne, you might be accustomed to calling the shots at your firm, and in your carnival of crazy, but I call the shots in bed,” he said, right before delivering six successive spanks and thrusting back into her sex.

  Fuck.

  Cayenne was going to kill him, he thought, when he felt her tighten around him. Rennes wanted to come, but he wanted Cayenne’s pleasure more than he wanted his. He wanted her screaming, begging, and pleading.

  Fortunately, they had all night and all the next day.

  Chapter Eleven: And the Two of them Shall Eve

  Cayenne rolled her shoulders, even as she put a hand to the small of her back and rubbed. Sure, she could’ve soothed her aches by sitting in the Jacuzzi tub, or gone to the onsite spa for a massage, but Cayenne didn’t want to. She wanted to savor every one of these feelings because Rennes had given them to her.

  He’d loved her without finesse, his desperation driving her own. He’d loved her without reservation, but not without reverence. That man loved her with his touch, loved her with his words, loved her with unwavering devotion.

  There’d never been a time when he hesitated to come for her. It didn’t matter where they were, or who he had to kill to get there. If there was a need, Rennes would make a way. His commitment to her well-being was as much of a turn on as his ripped body.

  Cayenne had enjoyed the way Rennes made love to her, but she’d reveled in the way he held her when it was over. He never took his pleasure until after she was sated. Even after he released, Rennes finished with a series of caresses, nips, and kisses that left her feeling treasured. It was clear that their coming together wasn’t simply about the act of sex; it was a manifestation of all of the ways he loved her. She’d tried to convey all of the ways she needed Rennes in her responding touch.

  Rennes’ baritone filled the silence. “Why are you out of my bed, Cayenne?”

  “I thought I’d give you a break. You are, after all, a bit older than I am.”

  “Two years.”

  “Yes, but when you’re a hundred, I’ll still be a spry ninety-eight.”

  “Even at my advanced age—note the sarcasm—I’ll still be hitting this every morning before we roll out of bed, and every night once we rush to it.”

  Cayenne was sure she was meant to say something witty in response, but Rennes had slid two fingers in her. The only response she could give was a moan of appreciation. When he picked her up and carried her back to their bed, she didn’t even have time to put on her ‘surprised’ face. But she wore it when Rennes parted her thighs and slid his tongue through her folds. She was his solo, and he was her song.

  While she enjoyed the feel of his tongue, she wanted all of him. Tugging at him to indicate her need, Rennes responded to her impatience in his own time. He made his way slowly up her body, stopping at every dip and hollow for a taste. He didn’t move on until he elicited proof of her pleasure. It was a long time before she had Rennes where she wanted him, but it was worth every sigh, moan, and gasp.

  “Rennes. Oh, Rennes.”

  “Please, Cayenne,” he rasped into her mouth. He repeated his plea. “Please.”

  “Please what, baby?” Cayenne asked, even as she wrapped her love around him. “You’re the one holding back. What are you waiting for?”

  “F
or you to say ‘yes,’ and mean it. ‘Yes’ to all of me, even though there are so many imperfect parts that make up the man.”

  “The answer has been ‘yes’ since the first moment I met you.”

  “You’re everything to me, Cayenne,” Rennes said, as he slid a ring onto her finger, even as tears slid down his face.

  Everything went blurry in the next moment because her eyes had become rivers. She wasn’t afraid, though, because she could feel the truth of his words, and the presence of the love that would keep her. This moment had changed her.

  “I love you,” Cayenne confessed, and pulled him to her.

  “As I love you, Cayenne.”

  Linking their hands, she whispered. “Best holiday season ever.”

  “Best everything ever,” he whispered back. “Early Merry Christmas to me.”

  Epilogue: Cheer Ye! Cheer Ye!

  “I told you to dress inconspicuously,” Cayenne said.

  “Which is why I’m rocking all black,” Tessa said.

  “And why I’m wearing camouflage,” Revelry explained.

  “Tessa, you’re fine. Revelry, I repeat, you are a raving lunatic. You’re actually wearing red camouflage.”

  “Yeah, because it’s like a two-fer: for my alma mater and for Christmas. The real question is, why do we have to be out here at the actual ass-crack of dawn?”

  “It’s eight a.m.”

  “Close enough. Anyway, enough about my awesomeness, and yours and Tessa’s uninspired outfits. What’s the plan? I didn’t fly all the way from California for some half-assed revenge plot.”

  “You’re selfish, but I need extra hands, so for now I will hold off tranqing your ass. So anyway, I’ve strategically placed bags on the lawn. In those bags are pussies.”

  Revelry yelled her objection. So much for being inconspicuous. “You killed a bunch of cats and put them in garbage bags? I know you don’t like cats, but it’s Christmas!”

  “Before I render you unconscious, Revelry, I just need to know if your objection is with me killing cats in general, or killing cats at Christmas time?”

  “I’m calling your preacher. You’re a hypocrite. Just because I want to start my own religion for possible nefarious purposes, you call in a horde of clergy who made the sign of the cross on my forehead!”