Christmas morning. A day of good cheer, good friends, and gifts.
She had all of that with her in this bed. Jack was beside her, his deep, even breaths the most comforting sound in the world. Amanda was across the bottom of the bed, her back to her, the satin ribbons sagging around her knees from the workout they’d taken. Nothing could have stayed up during that group fuck.
Then she felt Jack’s dick and had to take that statement back, smiling. Only Jack could go through two women with another guy in the room and still have some oomph left in him.
Her oomph had left hours ago. She could barely move an eyelid, forget about any other body part.
Jack, however, could. He slid a hand up her thigh.
Which proved her nerves were still working.
“Merry Christmas, sweetheart. You okay?” His breath was hot against her neck.
Ah, he’d moved closer. “I’m so okay that I think I might have died of pleasure.” Oooh, and her voice still worked. That was something.
“Amanda?” Jack was always so considerate, making sure their guests had a good time.
“Mmmphh…”
Debra smiled. That was a good Amanda sound.
“Dave?”
“Yeah, I’m here. So I must not be dead.”
Debra had enough strength in her hand to stretch it out across the bed toward him. She still hadn’t unwrapped him and that red bow beckoned.
But then she stopped. Jack had brought him back to her because she hadn’t unwrapped him. Maybe she shouldn’t.
“You’re not going to do it, are you?” Jack was resting his cheek against hers as he spooned her.
“No, I don’t so.”
His sigh was so big it was almost comical. Almost. Because she knew what he was going to say and it filled her with that feeling of being loved.
“I’m going to have to give him to you again, aren’t I?”
“And again and again and again.”
Jack kissed her then. A hot, wet, sloppy, I-want-to-fuck-you sort of kiss. “Then I guess you and I both know what you’re getting for every holiday to come.”
“Well, if the holidays get to come, you and I should, too.”
Jack and Debra’s Christmas—and all the ones that followed—were very merry, indeed.
The End
About Raven Morris
Raven Morris loves celebrating birthdays. Has she ever received a present like this? Ah, that’s for this fiction writer to know and you to wonder… But instead of wondering about her love life, set your imagination to work on your own. And if her books can help those fantasies along, well, there’s always a reason to celebrate. You can put all her books on your wish list. Find them on her website: www.RavenMorris.wordpress.com
See her alter ego, Judi Fennell’s romantic comedies at www.JudiFennell.com or www.facebook/JudiFennell
Other Books by Raven Morris
Want to see what all the excitement was about for Debra’s birthday and Jack’s gift? Check out more stories in the Tied with a Bow series:
1
Candace Andrews was sweating, and it had nothing to do with being wrapped shoulder-to-floor in some green monstrosity her mother had requested she wear to the Andrews’ annual Christmas party. It had nothing to do with the champagne clutched in her trembling hand, either, as she feigned an attitude of polite attentiveness in the face of her uncle’s blathering.
Well, okay, those things weren’t helping the situation. At all. She reached up to touch the bead of sweat at her hairline before it could threaten her foundation, smiling as she pretended only to make sure every hair was in place. Surely someone in the small cluster of people she stood among would soon notice she was flushed bright red beneath her makeup. She’d caught a glimpse of herself a few moments ago in the gigantic mirror hanging in her parents’ grand entryway, so she knew.
All Brian Ross’s fault, and he wasn’t even near her. He stood halfway across the enormous living room, trapped with her dad and some of his business associates. Looking absolutely devastatingly gorgeous in all black…no suit for him, no matter how formal the occasion, but it didn’t matter because no one got past that face or those intense blue eyes anyway. She could just see his profile over her aunt’s shoulder—she never let him get too far out of sight at one of these things. He hated them, and so did she, so she constantly watched him for the subtle head-tilt toward the door that indicated he was ready to get the hell out. So far, he hadn’t given it.
Brian was her…well, she didn’t know what label to put on him. “Boyfriend” seemed way too casual. “Fiancé,” too premature, as indicated by the longing look she cast toward the bare ring finger on her left hand. “Soulmate”? Too cliché.
He was her world, and that’s all that mattered.
His hand drifted into the pocket of his slacks again, and every muscle in her body went on alert. It was another motion she’d constantly been on the lookout for tonight.
Oh, no, don’t. No more. Don’t…
Inside the lacy scrap of a thong she wore, a vibration came to silent life directly on her clit.
Expecting it didn’t squelch her reaction. She nearly jumped three feet off the floor, and in her heels, that would be quite the feat.
“Are you all right, hon?” Her aunt Deb, who stood directly across from her, looked at her with concern. It was hard to believe she and Candace’s mother Sylvia shared parents. If Sylvia had been standing nearby, she would’ve given Candace what Brian called her ocular lashing.
Candace mustered what she hoped was a blithe smile as sensation ricocheted through her lower belly and dangerously tightened all her muscles. From wherever she’d dredged up that smile, she found her voice. “I’m fine. Will you excuse me?”
Without waiting for an answer, she broke away from the group, almost collapsing in relief when Brian had mercy on her and the vibration stopped. When had she ever thought this would be a good idea? Well, she hadn’t, actually. He had. He got his kicks out of flustering her in front of her insanely conservative family. As if her being with him in the first place wasn’t enough to almost give them all a coronary. And God help her, she couldn’t say no to him. Didn’t want to.
It seemed she loved this as much as he did. But if he was insisting on driving her to orgasm at the celebrated Andrews Christmas party, she had to get out of range before he succeeded—
Like right now. The damn thing buzzed to life again as she cut a path through the guests. Any more and she was going to plunge her hand under her dress and rip it out in front of everyone. Frantically, she looked over at Brian to give him a finger-slash-across-the-throat gesture, but he only smirked at her. No quarter. Oh shit. Oh God, no, he isn’t...
Her knees weakened as it went on and she grasped an accent table for support, upsetting one of her mother’s prized crystal vases and making a grab for it before it could topple over and crash onto the floor. Brian took his finger off the button almost too late for her to recover. She fought the pleasure radiating from her desperately clenching muscles before it could consume her like an inferno.
Candace didn’t know whether to kill him because he’d spared her or kill him because he’d stopped.
Who knew how long the reprieve would last, though? She drew a labored breath, looking up…right into the alarmed eyes of Jennifer Rodgers. Her best friend Macy’s mother.
“Are you all right?”
“Sure,” Candace said brightly, casting a glance around. No one else had seemed to notice her nearly collapse in racking waves of ecstasy. “Just…stumbled a bit, there. Oh, I love your dress.”
Distraction. That was the way to go. Not that Mrs. Rodgers’s ivory gown wasn’t lovely; she’d always had impeccable taste.
“Thank you, but are you sure you’re okay? You look really flushed.”
“Do I? I think it’s…a hot flash or something.” She flapped her hand at her own face.
The other woman laughed as she turned to go. “Oh, honey, you’re way too young for those.”
Not when Brian Ross is standing across the room remote controlling my orgasm.
She made for the stairs before he could fire the thing up again.
“Candy!” The voice she heard in her nightmares cut through her distress, and she cringed. Sylvia was summoning, and God help anyone who didn’t come running.
Breathing deeply in the hopes of calming her agitated heart rate, she spotted her mother at her station near the fifteen-foot red-and-gold Christmas tree. Only Sylvia Andrews sparkled brighter than that eyesore, dripping with diamonds and gold, her lithe figure shown to its fullest advantage in sleek red satin.
Candace glanced back over her shoulder at Brian, who was watching her now. She could only hope he read the meaning as she narrowed her eyes at him: Don’t you fucking dare.
The way the corner of his mouth kicked up didn’t bode well.
Sylvia broke away from her guests and tilted her head toward the towering doors of the study. Candace obediently headed in that direction, gritting her teeth, marveling at how fast the prospect of dealing with her mother killed any below-waist sensation. Now she’d sweat for an entirely different reason.
The dark paneling of her dad’s study was a welcome change from the glitz and glamour outside, and as her mother closed the doors behind them, the light piano rendition of “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” faded to a familiar but still awkward silence.
Candace bit her tongue on asking, “What have I done now?” She’d worn the dress. Her tattoos were hidden. She’d even colored her hair back to its natural blond—the pink streaks had nearly driven her mother insane. But when Sylvia turned toward her with a smile instead of her usual critical eye, she was taken aback.
“How are things, Candace?”
Candace? Instead of Candy? Instant alert. This must be serious. “Fine.”
Her mother strode to the side bar and poured herself a drink; Candace still white-knuckled her flute of champagne. Sylvia didn’t like to drink alcohol in public for some reason. At least not at parties she was hosting. “We haven’t really talked for some time, have we?”
There’s a reason for that. “No, we haven’t.”
Sylvia turned toward her, now reinforced with a glass of scotch. Her gaze drifted down to Candace’s champagne, and for a second she wondered if her mom was about to impose a similar restriction on her. To which she would tell her to bite it. Candace occasionally made good-hearted efforts to make Sylvia happy—hence the dress and the hair—but try as Sylvia might, she didn’t rule her daughter with the iron fist that she used to.
Candace took her preemptive battle stance, lifting her chin and softly clearing her throat, preparing for the worst.
“Things are all right with Brian?”
Wow, she’d actually said his name. “Yes, they’re great.”
“How long have you been together now?”
“A year and a half.”
“I have to admit I didn’t think you’d make it two months.”
“I figured as much. I mean, there had to be some reason you finally gave in and—well, accepted him is too strong a word, isn’t it? Tolerated, maybe. You didn’t think he’d be around for long.”
“We welcomed him into our home, and believe me, that’s far more than mere toleration.”
The woman might have a point there, at least where this family was concerned. “Okay, Mother. I can’t figure out what you’re getting at, so why don’t you just come out with it?”
Sylvia sighed and took a drink. “You always think I have some ulterior motive.”
“Don’t you?”
“You’re my daughter. I’m still interested in your life. And…you do seem to love him very much.”
Love him? The very thought of him could make her eyes sting. “I do.”
Sylvia straightened her back, inhaling as if trying to give strength to her next words. “I was just wondering when we can start thinking about planning a wedding.”
Candace blinked. And blinked again. Her gaze drifted downward, and she realized her mother hadn’t been looking at her drink earlier; she’d been looking at her ring finger. Just as she often did herself, dreaming of something actually being there.
She knew Brian meant to marry her someday. But she didn’t know how soon “someday” would be, and God, she was getting so ready.
“Well, I… We don’t have any plans yet.”
“I didn’t think so. Do you mean to just go on living together from now on? Because you know your father and I don’t approve of that. It’s your life,” she added quickly, raising one quelling hand as Candace opened her mouth. “You’ll do what you want, you’ve proven as much. But surely you aren’t content with that arrangement, are you? Surely you want more than that.”
“Are you suggesting I propose?” It was an option, even if the thought made her mouth run dry. God, what if he actually said no? What if she realized this wasn’t as solid and permanent as she believed it was?
No. He loved her. She knew he did.
Sylvia laughed. “Not necessarily. But marriage is a partnership. If you’re wanting to go into it, then communication is a must from the start.” Her mother frowned, worrying the glass in her hands, turning it around and around. “I just think…and please only take this as my advice…you should try to find out where his head is at.”
She wanted to only take it as advice, to think her mom was finally making an effort to be motherly instead of manipulative for a change. Unfortunately, she knew her too well. It was just another machination, playing with her head, trying to get her to broach a discussion with Brian that just might result in their demise if she realized his head wasn’t in the same place as hers. Or if the very thought of marriage sent him running. Yet again, the woman was making unsavory assumptions about his character when, even after a year and a half, she didn’t know him at all.
“Brian and I are doing just fine. We do communicate. We’ll get married when we’re both ready. Until then, thanks for your advice and your concern, but with all due respect, we’re both adults and we’ll figure things out without your input or your planning.” Sylvia didn’t wait for her to finish talking before turning away, her heels clattering across the hardwood floor as she drained her scotch. Candace almost flinched with the force her mother used to slam her glass on the bar, but when she turned back, she’d composed herself. Only the tightness of her smile belied her anger. “We need to get back to the guests.”
The Candace of old would have felt bad and apologized. The Candace Brian had introduced her to stepped out of her mom’s way without a word. And once Sylvia had passed, she tossed back the rest of her champagne in a single shot that would’ve made the woman faint. Then she followed her out, plastering a smile on her face. She didn’t often drink, but when she did, it was usually because of her parents.
God, let this night end.
The Rosses’ Christmas party was last weekend. Such a good time. She adored Brian’s family, and although there were occasions he didn’t feel the same, hanging around her parents and brother for a while always made him appreciate his way more. So that was a silver lining. The Rosses were more laid back, more rambunctious, less hoity-toity though they shared much the same status in the community as the Andrews family. Which was local royalty. But Brian had only thought the Rosses were miserably conservative until he’d met her clan. They’d shown him a thing or two.
Her mother took up her position near the tree again, smile dazzling, giving no indication she’d been near to rage not two minutes earlier. She was the queen of keeping up appearances. Candace looked for Brian among the guests but didn’t see him.
Oh, well. She’d look for him in a minute. Right now, she needed a moment away to collect herself—being nowhere near as proficient at hiding her emotions as her mother—and freshen up.
Her old room upstairs had been completely redecorated since she moved out—it was almost as if she’d never been there. Not that she expected her parents to keep a shrine to her. But it would’ve been nice if her
mom hadn’t mobilized her army of interior decorators not two weeks after Candace’s departure, apparently with orders to make the space where she’d spent her entire childhood virtually unrecognizable to her.
This wasn’t home anymore. Brian was home. She skirted around the four-poster bed she doubted anyone had ever slept in and headed for the little attached bathroom. It, at least, was the same as before—seafoam green with a tasteful beach theme. Her reflection in the mirror over the bowl sink was much as she suspected: flushed cheeks, tight jaw, too-bright eyes. If she went out there looking like this, she’d get a ton of concerned questions, but she couldn’t even splash water on her face. She could only sit on the edge of the bathtub and breathe. And try not to think.
But it was impossible. Maybe her mother was right in a way—she and Brian often got so caught up in expansion plans for his tattoo parlor, Dermamania, that they neglected to give their relationship much thought. It didn’t need thought, really, it just was. She certainly wasn’t going anywhere, and she didn’t think he had plans to, either. And the sex…well, the sex was out of this world. No issue there. They just needed to talk, check in, maybe plan the getaway time they often discussed but never quite achieved.
And they’d be good as new.
Right?
If only Macy were here to commiserate with her. Usually, Candace’s best friend always attended the Andrewses’ party—and Macy’s parents were downstairs right now—but Macy had decided to go with her boyfriend to Oklahoma this weekend to visit his sister for the holidays. Her boyfriend being Seth “Ghost” Warren, Brian’s best friend. Candace really was happy for those two, but she missed Macy terribly on nights like these.
A sound came from the bedroom…the soft click of the door closing. Candace sat up straight, then jumped up when the sound of carpet-muffled footsteps reached her. She hadn’t shut the bathroom door, and now someone had wandered in—
Brian peeked around the doorjamb. “Hey, babe.”
A Very Naughty Xmas Page 15
