Look What Santa Brought

by Annmarie McKenna

  He pulled his hand from between her legs and lifted her. She wrapped her legs around his waist.

  “Wait.”

  He froze with his hands grasping her butt. “What?”

  Tara smoothed the wrinkle in his forehead. “I want these off.” She slid the sunglasses from his face. “I don’t want to make love to a man with his shades on.”

  He growled, took the glasses from her hand and tossed them on the counter. With determined steps, he carried her out of the kitchen, up the steps and into his bedroom without once pausing to get his bearings. He had her tank stripped off practically before her butt hit the bed.

  Moonlight streamed through the open shutters, highlighting his beautiful body. He lowered his pants and kicked them off.

  Glorious. Every inch of his body was absolutely stunning. And all hers.

  Scott crawled onto the bed, feeling his way around her, laying her back and yanking her boxers down her legs. The speed at which he moved would be hilarious if she weren’t feeling the same way.

  “I can’t wait,” he panted.

  She laughed and smoothed her palm over his cheek. “You don’t have to,” she said, spreading her thighs and cradling his hips. The tip of his penis nudged her entrance. Biting her lip, she arched her back.

  “Shit.” His head dropped to the bed beside hers.

  “What?” Don’t stop, she wanted to scream.

  He scrambled away from her, leaving her stunned. “What are you… Oh.”

  Scott jerked open a bedside table and fumbled in its contents, coming up victorious with a condom. He ripped it open with his teeth, spit a bit of plastic out and rolled it on.

  “I’m not sure what the hell made me think of this.” He pounced on the bed like a kid seeing Santa come down the chimney and settled between her legs again. “But I don’t want to hurt you. Ever.”

  She couldn’t respond because suddenly he was touching her everywhere. It electrified her, heightening her senses. Tara closed her eyes and let the feeling wash over her.

  She swallowed when the thick head of his cock pushed into her, filling and stretching her to the max.

  “I’m not gonna last long, sweetheart.” He pressed in all the way.

  She’d never felt so full or so complete. They were a perfect fit in every way. He inserted a hand between their pelvises and pulled back the hood from her clit. Every thrust rubbed against the tight bundle of nerves, taking her closer and closer to orgasm.

  It exploded, shattering over her entire body. She fought the aftermath of his relentless rocking along those nerves.

  A few seconds later, he slammed into her pussy and held himself rigid. She felt every pulse of his climax shoot through him.

  They lay there, sweating, breathing hard, and unable to move.

  She loved it. Loved him, she admitted to herself.

  When she awoke sometime later, they were spooned against each other, his arms wrapped protectively around her, his nose tucked into the crook of her shoulder. For the first time in her life she felt cherished.

  Chapter Eight

  “Everything turned out absolutely amazing, Tara. And did you hear that a certain beer mogul wants to use you for his annual summer bash?”

  Brianna fairly bounced in her excitement. Scott squeezed her from behind. He hadn’t let go of her the entire night. Or the entire day. Not since they’d dragged themselves from his bed just before noon. The man had more stamina than he knew what to do with.

  She’d feel awkward except for the fact they’d been caught in bed together early this morning when Cole had brought Scott’s glasses up from where he’d left them in the kitchen.

  Nope, their whole affair was out in the open.

  “I gave him your business card and he said he’d definitely be calling you in the near future.”

  Tara smiled. Brianna had been right when she’d said doing these decorations would generate business.

  “He wouldn’t be if it weren’t for you,” she said, taking her best friend’s hand. “Thank you. For everything.”

  “I’m so excited for you, Tara.”

  She got another fierce hug from Scott.

  “Uncle Scott, Uncle Scott.”

  Scott turned with her to the sound of his nieces’ voices.

  “You’re underneath the mistletoe.” Chloe giggled.

  “Well you’d better give me a kiss then, Chlo.” He released Tara long enough to bend over and offer his lips to Chloe who waited patiently, hands behind her back.

  “Me too, Uncle Scott.”

  Scott swung in Lily’s direction and offered a kiss for her too.

  “They’re very sweet,” Tara said when they’d run off.

  “Monsters.”

  “No, they’re not. At least, not since I’ve been here.”

  Turning her in his arms, Scott tucked her head under his chin and rubbed her back. “Then I guess I’ll have to get you to stay longer,” he murmured. He tipped her face up with a thumb beneath her chin. “If we’re standing under a mistletoe, how come you haven’t kissed me yet?”

  “You didn’t ask.”

  “I love kissing you, woman, don’t make me beg.”

  Tara laughed and took pity on him, laying her lips on his and opening for him. Their tongues danced and entwined together.

  “Scott and Tara sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”

  Scott groaned and lunged with a roar for his squealing nieces. Tara laughed again. She hadn’t felt this free in years. She loved his family. Loved him.

  “Monsters, I tell you.”

  Tara chuckled. “I’m going to the bathroom. Be sure you take names of anyone who might want my services,” she threw over her shoulder.

  Scott growled. “I better be the only man on your services list, girl.”

  Lights twinkled in the hallway, strung high on the ceiling and draped around the huge Christmas tree adorning the entry foyer. She thought everything had turned out beautifully and according to the hubbub, the guests did too.

  It was peaceful out. Empty of guests and music. Tara rolled her head on her shoulders and arched her back to relieve some of the tension. She reached for the bathroom doorknob. A sweaty palm covered her mouth and yanked backward, jerking her into a firm chest.

  Her scream was drowned out by the hand. In a panic, she clawed at the bare arm and fingers pinching her lips. She kicked back with her heels, earning a grunt from her attacker. It was Eric, she could smell him.

  “Be still,” he hissed.

  She wrenched her head from side to side trying to dislodge him. A high-pitched scream shattered her attempts to struggle. She froze, Eric froze. Both turned to Lily and Chloe who stood ten feet away, having come out from the party.

  Chloe’s red face stood out against her snowy white dress. Lily had one arm on her sister’s.

  “Go get Dad, Chloe.”

  Tara whimpered and gestured with her eyes for the nine-year-old to go back in with the people.

  Chloe scrambled, slipping on the tile floor and screaming like a banshee. Tara’s brain yelled, good girl, but her heart nearly exploded. If anything happened to anyone in this family, she’d never forgive herself.

  Something sharp pricked the skin of her neck. Lily’s eyes widened into huge round discs. Tara frantically grabbed at the hand holding the knife, kicking and bucking, anything to loosen him.

  Eric held fast.

  “We’re going to walk out of here, Tara. You are mine. You don’t belong here with these people.”

  “Mm-mm. Mm-mm.” She stomped down on his foot.

  “Bitch,” he snarled, spittle shooting from his lips onto her cheek.

  “Eric.” The yell came from Tyler. He shoved Lily into the room where guests started spilling out.

  “Where is she?”

  Tara’s knees buckled at the sound of Scott’s angered, worried outcry from the opposite direction. She wanted to scream at him to stay back.

  “Stay the fuck away, Wyatt. She’s mine.”

 
; Tara stomped down again, grinding her high heel into his instep. Eric howled in pain. His arm loosened as he hopped on his good foot. Tara took advantage. She tore out of his hold and ran to Scott.

  Eric followed when he realized what had happened. He slammed into both of them in a football tackle. Tara’s head cracked on the floor. Stars exploded in her vision, threatening to make the whole world black. Scott and Eric struggled next to her, wrestling and grunting, but she couldn’t seem to move.

  Someone shouted. Strong hands pulled at her arm. She had the sensation she was being dragged but didn’t know why.

  Fingers slapped at her cheek and she heard her name being called over and over again. Tara tried to sit up. A wave of dizziness forced her back down.

  “I’ve got him.”

  Tara heard another series of grunts and the meaty connection of a fist on bone.

  Her head was splitting in half.

  “Let go, Scott, we’ve got him.”

  Another thud of knuckles meeting flesh made her gag. The sickening crack of bone was followed by an anguished scream.

  Eric stumbled into her blurry vision, holding his nose and crying out in pain. Blood seeped between his fingers. A pair of hands grabbed him and shoved him to the ground.

  The crowd gathered around her. She didn’t want the crowd around but she couldn’t seem to think to tell them to get lost.

  “Call an ambulance.”

  Tara sank into Scott’s body as he lifted her into a sitting position. The move nearly cost her the bazillion or so meatballs she’d eaten at the party.

  “Tara.”

  She couldn’t keep her eyes open. They were so heavy.

  “Give me a towel,” Scott roared. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered when she flinched.

  A thousand needles pricked her scalp.

  The last thing she saw was Eric being hauled up and shoved out the door.

  Red and blue lights swirled through the cascading descent of a million snowflakes. It was so pretty. She smiled up at them.

  “You’ll be okay, Tara. They’re pretty sure you have a nice little concussion though,” Brianna said. She sounded worried.

  She didn’t care. Look at the beautiful scenery.

  Scott invaded her vision, his mouth tight-lipped, his jaw working hard. She realized he was holding her hand and tightened her fingers on his. She was lying down and he was walking next to her, which could only mean she was on a stretcher.

  Eric, the fight, her head hitting the floor. It all came back to her. She swallowed and shut her eyes against the dull throb. Soon the stretcher lifted and she found herself in the back of an ambulance. The doors remained open even after Scott climbed in. He sat next to her and held her hand with both of his.

  Tiny bells chimed in the far-off distance. She gasped.

  “Do you hear that?” she asked him.

  “What’s that sweetheart?”

  “Bells.” She stared off into the wintery Christmas Eve night. Was it possible?

  No…

  “I think your brain is rattling.” His jaw ground down again.

  “Or maybe it’s him.” She couldn’t help smiling.

  Scott sat up straighter. “Him?”

  “Yeah, you know, the big guy in the red suit? Listen. Maybe you can hear the bells too.”

  He cocked his head, then shook it.

  “Can’t be.”

  “Why not?” she asked, indignant.

  “Because he’s already been here.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles.

  “Oh,” she whispered. “How do you know that?”

  “He brought me you.”

  About the Author

  To learn more about Annmarie McKenna, please visit www.annmariemckenna.com. Send an email to annmarmck@yahoo.com or visit her blog—the one she tries to keep up with but doesn’t always succeed at—www.annmariemckenna.blogspot.com. She’d love to hear from you!

  Look for these titles by Annmarie McKenna

  Now Available:

  Blackmailed

  Seeing Eye Mate

  Checkmate

  Two Sighted

  Fantasmagorical

  The Strength of Three

  Ultimatum

  Coming Soon:

  Mystified

  They say cowboys don't cry… Apparently they don’t forgive and forget either.

  Second Chance Christmas

  © 2007 Mackenzie McKade

  After four years, Lori Dayton is returning to Safford, Arizona to spend Christmas with her family and face her past. She has reservations about seeing Dean Wilcox again. But time hasn’t changed her. She still loves Dean more than ever.

  Time heals all things… Yeah right! Lori still heats Dean’s blood like no other woman. Even after all she’s done, he can’t resist the urge to take her in his arms, feel her body pressed to his. He wants her naked against him, just like before.

  Can he forgive her, as well as himself, for that dreadful night when they lost so much?

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Second Chance Christmas.

  This was gonna be a helluva night.

  Two large fans whirling above Lori Dayton did nothing to ease the sultry flush across her skin, or the increase of her pulse. One set of fiery blue eyes across the room was responsible for her sudden reaction and the instant tightening of her nipples. The man she’d dreamed of for the last four years moved determinedly from the entrance, straight across the dance floor, and past the wraparound bar, toward the poolroom situated at the far end of the establishment where she stood. He didn’t speak to her nor did he approach. But he was close—too close.

  Focus and forget about Dean Wilcox.

  He had clearly forgotten about her.

  She diverted her gaze from his hot glare, choosing instead to study the intricate pattern of the tinsel draping the limbs of the large Christmas tree stuck in the corner. It must have taken hours to separate and lay each silver strand precisely an inch apart.

  In the distance, she heard the band begin to warm up and laughter rang. The scent of cigarettes mingled with a variety of perfumes and colognes. A beer bottle or glass crashed to the floor. The loud, brittle sound startled her, making her heart lodge midway in her throat. Normal barroom noises, so why was she nervous?

  “C’mon, sis, call your shot,” Mitch, her partner and brother, impatiently encouraged. His eyes were fixed on the table as he chalked his stick. Will and Lance Carter had challenged them to a game of pool. She hadn’t wanted to play, but Mitch never turned down a challenge.

  Two local gals had their hungry gazes pinned on Mitch’s muscular six-three frame like it was hunting season, and he was their quarry. They sat at a high-top table across the way, but looked like they wanted to slink across the room and wrap themselves around him. All three of her brothers were babe material—they had golden hair and eyes to match.

  Women thought her brothers were hot, but as far as Lori was concerned, no man came close to the raw sensuality Dean Wilcox oozed. When the two gals who had been eyeing Mitch now ogled Dean, Lori realized she wasn’t the only one who thought so.

  “Earth to Lori.” Mitch pulled her from her thoughts.

  Focus.

  Narrowing her eyes, she sized up the table. Pool stick in one fist, she dragged the other hand along the cool railing, moving slowly in search of the best shot. She fought not to look at Dean, not wanting to let him know he affected her, but she couldn’t help raising her eyes to meet his.

  With a condemning stare, he watched her. Only six feet away, he stood with his legs were wedged apart, unyielding arms folded across his broad chest. His stance screamed that if she drew any closer to him he would still be miles away, still be untouchable.

  Forget him.

  “Eleven ball, corner pocket.” It would be a stretch, but it appeared her best choice. Leaning forward, she lengthened her five-seven frame across the table. With a jerk of her head she tossed her long blonde hair over her shoulder, and then positioned
her fingers—

  Well fuck. Her eyes were focused on Dean’s zipper, which was directly in line with the corner pocket. The impressive bulge revealed he was erect, hard. The muscles in her throat tightened as she swallowed. She knew that cock, knew its length and girth, the way it felt sliding between her thighs, filling her to—

  Her heart began to pound. What’s the matter with me? Lust—nothing more. Remember the man hates you.

  To make the situation more uncomfortable, when she leaned farther down, her T-shirt gaped to give him a direct, unhindered view of her bare breasts—helluva time not to wear a bra.

  Dean made no attempt to look away. Instead, his eyes darkened. His nostrils flared.

  And just like that her concentration flew out the door. Adios! It was gone in a heartbeat.

  Once again she found herself thinking of him. Her vaginal muscles clenched as she imagined his strong hands touching her breasts, stroking the ache inside her. Her panties dampened.

  She licked her suddenly dry lips, blinked.

  Focus.

  It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen her breasts before. But each time she slipped the stick back and forth between the cradle of her thumb and forefinger, she thought of Dean buried deep and rocking inside her needy core.

  Stop it.

  With more force than she intended, she thrust her stick forward and struck the cue ball lower than anticipated.

  In horror, she watched the spinning white ball raise from the felt, clear the rail, and nail Dean dead center of his groin.

  They say cowboys don't cry…

  Evidently, they do if hit squarely in the nuts. Then all bets are off. They crumble like a day-old cookie to their knees. At least that's what Dean did.

  With a gut-wrenching “ugh”, he folded over, cupping his jean-clad crotch. She caught a glimpse of his painful expression as his golden skin tone drained to a pasty white. Like a snowman in the middle of summer, he melted and dropped to his knees. His head followed, bowing low.

  “Ouch,” a choir of rowdy cowboys cried in unison, hugging their cocks. Then they began to laugh hysterically at their fallen friend.