JingleBall

by KJ Reed

  Jingle Ball

  KJ Reed

  As an early Christmas gift, I scored an exclusive invitation to a Hilltop House party. I’d heard the rumors about what goes on there—orgies, ménages, voyeurism—and I planned to be a little voyeuristic myself. I’d been a good girl, after all. Certainly I deserved to witness a walk on the wild side. What I didn’t plan on was going from spectator to participant.

  When I met Dane, I discovered how quickly my plans could change. And when Ryder was thrown into the mix? Merry Christmas to me! These two sexy men had no problem adding much-needed sizzle to my cold winter night.

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing

  www.ellorascave.com

  Jingle Ball

  ISBN 9781419936654

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Jingle Ball Copyright © 2011 KJ Reed

  Edited by Grace Bradley

  Cover design by Syneca

  Photography: VishStudios/Shutterstock.com

  Electronic book publication November 2011

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

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  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

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  JINGLE BALL

  KJ Reed

  Chapter One

  Jingle All the Way…

  I adjusted the top to my costume and jiggled my breasts so they were better situated. Okay, girls, time to have some fun. With a little adjustment to the hem of my super-short Santa-style dress, I stepped out of the car.

  As I walked up the cobblestone sidewalk to the front door of the mansion, I realized that this was the point of no return. I could walk back to my car, get in and drive away. Nobody would know, and nothing would be lost.

  Nothing gained either. And that was the entire point. That was the whole reason I took Zara’s invitation to the Jingle Ball. Everyone wanted to know what went on at the secretive holiday parties thrown in the Hilltop House. The rumors were many, and they all sounded beyond sexy. But few were invited and they all stayed mum.

  Curiosity was probably my one serious downfall in life. So how could I pass up an opportunity to see the ultra-exclusive Christmas party? Even if I just observed, I knew I would be in for some fun. And to tell the truth, things had been a little boring. I could use a little holiday spice. Like adding a pinch of peppermint to the hot chocolate…who could resist?

  A woman wearing all black who looked as if she was in her sixties answered the door. Her smile was warm, but she said nothing, only held out a hand. I passed over the invitation Zara gave me and waited while she studied it.

  What, people actually tried to make counterfeit invitations to these parties? She really had to examine the thing?

  After she was satisfied, she led me to a set of huge double doors on the other side of the first floor. I could hear soft music pulsing behind them, but nothing more. The woman paused expectantly, and I realized she was holding out her hand for my coat.

  Anxious as I was to see what was behind Door Number One, the thought of taking off my coat and wearing only the slinky little dress was still a bit unnerving. The outfit really was meant more for the bedroom only.

  Maybe my interpretation of the dress code was way off. I knew it was a costume party, and Zara had said the sexier the costume, the better. But this was probably too much. My entire ass was going to hang out if I bent to pick up a napkin.

  Though I wouldn’t mind someone taking that as an invitation…

  No. Needing to rip the bandage off, I flung my coat off my shoulders and handed it to her as quickly as possible. Before I could yank it back on and run for the nearest turtleneck. But when the woman opened the door, my fears about being underdressed were completely set aside. Clearly, I was the prude of the group.

  The first person I saw was a woman with only a sprig of holly covering each breast and what looked like tinsel wrapped around her crotch. That couldn’t be comfortable. A man stood behind her, hand comfortably splayed over her naked belly, whispering in her ear. From this angle, he looked completely naked. Though maybe he wore teeny shorts.

  Or maybe not.

  A few men wore some form of festive boxers with cute designs on them, but that was all. Women donned anything from slutty elf costumes to strategically placed bows and nothing more.

  The entire party seemed so contradictory to the classic, old-world feeling of the huge house. Gorgeous dark wood, plush carpets and designer furniture. Tasteful, understated holiday decorations.

  And, of course, balls. Both of the human and plastic decorative kind. What’s a holiday party without some balls? I bit my lip to keep the giggle at bay, knowing it was more from nerves than anything. But this was exactly why I’d come. To see.

  Zara wasn’t kidding when she said, Anything goes at the Jingle Ball. How she’d managed to snag me an invitation, I didn’t know. But I’d be eternally grateful. This night of exploration was my own present to myself, and I was glad I didn’t have to wait until Christmas morning to open it.

  “Regina!”

  I turned, hearing Zara’s voice, and spotted her dark-red curls through two people. Following the sound of her laughter, I walked up until I found her sitting on a sofa along one wall. A woman with ink-black hair and skin so pale she looked like a china doll sat beside her, one hand caressing Zara’s thigh under the Christmas-green miniskirt she wore. I hustled over, trying not to stare at the man standing right by the sofa, completely naked, with a woman hanging candy canes from his erection.

  “Hey. I’m a little late.”

  “No prob. You haven’t missed too much. If you want, you can grab some food from the kitchen, that’s all we’ve done so far.”

  I couldn’t handle the thought of food right then so I shook my head.

  Zara studied me carefully, not even noticing when the other woman’s hand slipped completely under her skirt. As if the feel of feminine fingers against her pussy wasn’t even consequential. “You look good. Little conservative, but it’s a nice outfit for your first trip.”

  I wanted to choke on the laughter bubbling in my throat. Conservative? After hours agonizing over Zara’s mysterious hint about the dress code—Costume required, coverage optional—I’d finally gone with a cute little Mrs. Claus outfit. The skirt was short enough to show off the ruffled white panties I’d picked if I bent over too far, and the top cut down to almost my bellybutton. But compared to some other women in the room, I was almost a nun.

  Kind of cool, actually.

  “Zara, they’re
about to start.” A hard, warm chest brushed up against my arm as a man sidestepped around me to sit next to Zara on the couch.

  “Hmm.” With the other woman’s hand working more vigorously, Zara seemed less attentive now. “Dane, this is my friend Regina. Regina, meet Dane.”

  Dane, wearing a pair of shorts that were the same red as a Santa suit, with white trim around his waistband, held out a hand and gave me a smile that promised friendship as much as mischief. “First time?”

  “Yes.” Well, good. That came out sounding halfway normal. I couldn’t seem to drag my eyes away from the sprinkling of hair that led down his flat abdomen and disappeared beneath that white trim. When I finally yanked my gaze back to his face, his grin said it all.

  “We’ll break you in gently then.” With a wink he placed his hands on well-muscled thighs and stood, giving me a perfect shot of the bulge in his boxers. That promised to be one big candy cane.

  “Let’s head over for the next exhibit. Looks like Zara is going to be preoccupied.”

  Zara? Oh yeah. Coming out of my man-candy coma, I looked down to see the china doll’s mouth firmly clamped on one of my friend’s breasts. Right. Well. She was just a little busy. “I’ll follow your lead.”

  Dane took my hand and wove through the crowd, stopping every so often to say hello. All the simple, polite gestures I thought were so benign in a crowd—a tap on the shoulder, a bump of arms, slithering behind someone’s back—seemed all the more erotic with the various stages of undress of the people around me. The flush burned as it raced up my neck, but I managed to keep my face as impassive as possible.

  No big deal. Just three dozen half-naked people all in one room, waiting to make their way to other rooms to have sex with each other eventually. Must be a Tuesday.

  Right.

  I’m really not a prude, far from it actually. But I think it was the blatant sexual overtone that took me by surprise. No hiding it behind a thin veil. Just out there in the open.

  Dane waved at someone and tugged gently, so I had no choice but to follow. Not that I had other plans. We finally ended up next to some stage somewhere to the far left of the room. He came to a stop by a man with sandy-blond hair sitting in one chair, hand on the one next to his. He wore shorts similar to Dane’s and had matching abs. Holy hell. Beefcakes of a feather flock together.

  “Ryder, thanks for saving a seat.”

  The blond—Ryder—took his hand off the other chair. “No prob. Place is filling up fast. People really want to get in their holiday jollies.” He gave me a quick, frank once-over, not bothering to hide his smile. “And what did you bring with you? Party favor?”

  I laughed nervously and Dane squeezed my hand.

  “Friend of Zara’s. She’s busy so I brought her over myself. This is Regina. Regina, good friend of mine, Ryder.”

  I held out a hand, and he gave it a warm, firm shake. Maybe it was my heightened senses, but it almost felt as if his thumb rubbed a slow circle over the back of my hand. But he let go without problem.

  Looking down, I realized that Dane’s friend had only saved one seat, and the others around them were full. “I’ll just go stand toward the back.”

  “No way.” Dane circled a hand around my upper arm, holding me gently. “There’s enough room for both.” Then before I could figure out where he was going with that, he sat on the empty chair and pulled me down onto his lap.

  It was impossible to miss the erection through his thin shorts, pressing against my ass with every movement. I sat very still, upright, trying to lean forward a little to take the weight off.

  “Lean back.” Dane’s hand snaked around my waist and pressed me back against him, so I reclined over him as I would a lounge chair at the pool. Even after I was settled, his hand remained. His pinky finger rested just above my mound.

  “What…what’s the exhibition?”

  “Burlesque routine. Meant to teach, but mostly it’s just to tease.” Ryder placed a hand on my thigh to get my attention as some of the lights dimmed and pointed with his other. In a lower voice he said, “Here she comes.”

  She was an ice-blonde with pasties and ruffled bloomer-style panties that covered a surprisingly decent amount of her bottom. With her hair in wild bedroom curls, and a top hat set jauntily to one side, it was a very unique look. I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

  The music started and she walked to the middle of the stage. Each step had a purpose, and not just to get her from Point A to Point B. It was as if her entire body was born to tantalize. The flick of her hip as she turned had all eyes riveted. The entire thing was calculated with seduction in mind. Each centimeter of movement was another opportunity to have the men—and some of the women—drooling in their seats.

  I’d never been into women, and even I wanted to wipe at the corner of my mouth to check for drool.

  When the blonde bent down to stroke her leg from the ankle up, Dane’s hand flexed against my stomach. Ryder’s fingers squeezed my thigh, massaging just a little. Ho boy. Two men had their hands on me, and it wasn’t even sexual yet…was it? Either way, I was feeling the heat, and I wondered if Dane would soon notice my temperature rising.

  Dancing, shaking her breasts gently, the blonde slowly worked the ruffled bloomers down to reveal the tiniest of thongs, barely covering anything at all.

  But suddenly, Dane’s hand wasn’t covering my stomach. His fingers walked their way down my ribs—okay, that tickled just a little—to the crease between my mound and my thigh. But where I thought he was going to dip to trace the crease between my thighs, instead he gripped the outside of my right leg. Now I had one man’s hand on each thigh.

  Interesting. And not altogether unpleasant. But different.

  The dancer on stage sat on her heels and opened her legs at the knees for a peek-a-boo look between her thighs. And at the same time, I felt my right leg shift. Grabbing behind me for Dane’s hips to keep my balance, my leg slipped over his. Then, just when I was sure I wouldn’t tip, Ryder slid my left leg over. Now I straddled Dane, and frankly it was a lot more secure and comfortable. I couldn’t help but breathe a little sigh of happiness as I snuggled back.

  The relaxation ended when Dane’s hand crept up the inside of my thigh and right over my panties. The heel of his hand massaged my mound and his fingers cupped my crotch. He had to feel the dampness, the pure heat coming from my pussy, but he didn’t say a word about it.

  I found myself looking around to see if anyone else cared, even noticed, that I was straddling some man’s lap and his hands were directly over my panties.

  Frankly, if anyone noticed, they didn’t give a good hot damn. A few were being almost as obvious as we were, making out, touching each other, almost having sex on the seats right there for anyone to watch. I could see the silhouette of one woman’s head bob up and down from a man’s lap. Others were simply engaged in quiet conversation, or watching the stage, as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

  When in Rome…

  I let my head fall back to Dane’s shoulder when he started to rub light circles over me. I suppose I could have pushed his hand away. But why? It felt so damn good. Almost soothing, rather than exciting. Ryder’s hand snaked up my ribs and started massaging my breast. Okay. So that’s why people are drawn to the whole ménage thing. Now it all made sense. What’s better than two amazing, talented, masculine hands?

  Four amazing, talented masculine hands.

  And those hands were all focused on me. I’d probably have to ask one of them to pinch me to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.

  But later. Much later. A few orgasms later.

  Though his pressure was light, calming, I felt the buildup to the big O starting early. No, no, no. I didn’t want to come. I wanted to hold off, prolong the entire thing.

  “You’re so close, aren’t you?” Dane whispered in my ear.

  I nodded as best I could with my head at such an awkward angle.

  “And you like what we’re doing to you. Together.”


  I only moaned in response. Ryder tweaked my nipple and it was the best I could manage.

  There was a smile in Dane’s voice as he said, “Yeah. I can tell. My fingers are covered in your juices just from the outside of your panties.” Louder, he added, “Ryder, I think we found our girl.”

  “I think that’s a pretty good assessment.”

  “Our…hmm?” I felt as if I had to fight my way through a fog. My brain was turning around in my head. And I knew I was a few steps behind the conversation.

  Not that I could bring myself to care. Not while Dane was still—

  “Whoa.” Dane stood, my legs still dangling on either side of him, one arm around my thigh and the other under my ribs. He set me down gently and waited until I could stand on my own. That took an embarrassingly long time. Finally, he grabbed my shoulders to turn me toward him and looked me in the eyes. Even with the dim lighting, even through my oh-my-God-it-feels-so-good haze, I saw the sincerity there.

  “Do you want to come with us to a private room?”

  I glanced between him and Ryder, who had a small smile curving his lips, as if reserving his big grin for my answer.

  “Yeah. Me and Ryder. This is our thing. We like to share.”

  I looked between them again. “But you two don’t…”

  “We don’t…oh. No.” He gave a husky laugh. “No, that’s definitely not our thing. We’re straight. Just friends who like to split the goodies, so to speak.” His palm rubbed a circle over my ass. “Not that we usually find something this tasty.”

  Hmm. I might have been wrong while walking up the cobblestone walkway. That wasn’t the No Turning Back point. This was. Like that one moment in the horror movies where you were screaming at the cute, stacked, blonde heroine, “Go back, you moron!” or “What are you waiting for? Hurry up! Go!”

  Quite the difference. Which one felt more right?