Multicultural Holiday Romance Box Set

by Giselle Renarde

  Josie asked, “And you, my love? Are you ready for this?”

  Rob growled, fucking her in double time until Kaz climbed on board. Then he slowed to a crawl, until he stopped thrusting altogether. He dropped his weight on her, his cock in her cunt, while Kaz penetrated his ass. Josie could feel when he was inside by the way Rob squeezed her. He felt her breasts and kissed her neck as Kaz rocked in him. “I can’t believe how tight your asshole is.”

  Letting out a loud moan, Rob tensed up, then relaxed.

  “Did you come in me?” Josie asked.

  “Yeah,” Rob replied. “Virgins come fast.”

  “Want me to keep going?” Kaz asked.

  “Yes,” they both shouted.

  So he rocked in Rob’s ass. She watched over her husband’s shoulder as Kaz pulled out, then ran his cock down the crack. He coated Rob’s hole with lube, then forced his way inside again.

  She could have sworn she felt her man’s cock jerk inside her cunt, even after he’d come.

  “How does that feel?” she whispered in Rob’s ear as Kaz rode him a little faster. The motion felt incredible, even to her on the bottom.

  “Oh,” he moaned, at a loss for words. “So good.”

  “Yeah?” she asked. She loved the look of Kaz’s hands on his butt cheeks, and of the dark fuzz around his cock as he rammed it in her husband’s hole. “You like getting fucked up the ass, do you?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  As Kaz kept at it, she asked, “What does it feel like for you?”

  He moaned. So did Rob. “It’s like fucking an impossibly tight hole,” Kaz cried, lunging at Rob. “Man, he is so tight. So tight, so tight.”

  His veined forearms shook. When he threw his head back, his ecstatic mouth fell wide open. He didn’t make a sound, only held that pose with his back arched and his cock in Rob’s ass. Depleted, he fell forward. The pressure was nothing short of wonderful.

  Collectively, they formed a drained, wet, panting heap. That unassailable ogre called Exhaustion took over. Warmth wrapped them in a loving blanket. Limbs grew heavy. Breaths grew deep. Eyes closed.

  Chapter Twelve

  They slept until the wee hours of the morning, when Josie awoke in a jolt of panic. Why all the lit candles? And naked men? Where was Froggy?

  Sleeping at his cousin’s house. The naked bodies belonged to Kaz and her husband. They had a threesome last night.

  Josie smiled. As she writhed beneath the male bodies, they rose like zombies from the sofa. They weren’t even awake, as far as she could tell. They stood naked, chest to chest, and kissed in their sleep. She watched as Kaz slipped a weighted arm over Rob’s shoulder. Their sleepy lips met and retreated, making faint smacking sounds. When the motion ceased, she blew out the candles. In darkness, they moved slowly toward the stairs, inching upwards and forwards until they found a big bed to sleep in.

  Vivian and Kaz had agreed to go to the zoo on Boxing Day, but by the time morning rolled around, their intimate date had grown into a family affair. Not only did Nathan invite himself along as a chaperone, but Froggy and cousin Ben decided they were coming too, which meant they needed supervision. Since Josie’s mom hadn’t been to the zoo in a good twenty years, she decided to go as well.

  Over breakfast, Josie shot Kaz a complicit smile as the whole family rushed in the front door. Soon the kids were banging the drum and her mom was dancing around the room with her favourite sons-in-law. If they were going to the zoo, they shouldn’t leave it too late in the day, Vivian warned, but since no one seemed to be listening to her, Josie advised that she and Kaz take off on their own. The rest of the family would meet up with them later, but at least they’d get a few minutes to themselves.

  “You don’t mind this?” Vivian asked Josie. “After all, he was your boyfriend first.”

  “Yeah,” Josie said with a shrug. “He was, but that was a long time ago. Now I’ve got Rob. Besides, you and Kaz have so much in common. It was meant to be.”

  They snuck out in Vivian’s car and headed off to spend some time alone with the animals. Families were the lifeblood of society, but sometimes they couldn’t seem to tell when their members needed a little time off.

  When Josie sat down to her toast and coffee, Rob came over to join her. The look of elation in his eyes said everything he couldn’t. The experience they’d shared with Kaz brought them closer together in so many ways. They always knew they had a strong bond, but they’d never have imagined it was strong enough to support other people. It seemed unbelievable that bringing a third into their bed could actually fuse their relationship.

  And the secrets…

  “Rob,” Josie began, tapping her toast against her plate. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

  He gripped her arm warmly. “What’s up, hon?”

  She could hardly hear herself think through the familial cacophony. She leaned in and spoke right into his ear. “There was a yellow zucchini…”

  The End

  Out of the Cold

  By Giselle Renarde

  Chapter One

  Geek Love at First Sight

  The cruel black cursor blinked like an impatient insect on Amira’s stark white screen. It counted off the seconds, the minutes, the hours she’d wasted in front of her computer.

  She stared at it. That’s all she could do. Just stare. As badly as she wanted to write to him, she wavered like a pendulum. What if he didn’t like her? Or worse yet, what if he didn’t remember her at all? Nothing could be more embarrassing than writing to a real cutie and getting a response like, Who are you and what do you want? Keith didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would jump at an invitation from just any old floozy. From what Amira could tell, it would take a special kind of floozy to win him over.

  They’d met one week earlier at a first aid training course. Amira hated taking classes like that—especially alone, when she couldn’t hide behind her sister or one of her friends—but she needed the certification for work.

  When she got there forty-five minutes early, it was a huge to relief to find someone else had arrived even earlier. It could be super-embarrassing, getting to a class even before the instructor. When somebody else was already in the room, she didn’t feel like such a big loser.

  And if that somebody happened to be a lanky strand of eye candy, so much the better. Amira never went for your typical cool guys or hockey jocks, not even back when she was young. Young-er, her auntie always corrected. Tall and dark she could handle, but handsome was seriously over-rated. So were bleach-blonde skater dudes. Highly over-rated.

  But just because she found the messy-haired boy behind the sci-fi paperback incredibly cute—and just because they were the only two people in the room for a good twenty minutes—didn’t mean she could actually work up the nerve to say anything to him. She pretended to read her own paperback, every so often glancing up over the pages to see if he was looking at her. If he was, she would look straight back down into her book. If he seemed to be reading, she gazed adoringly at him until the next time he looked up. Amira could write a journal article on the courtship rituals of bookworms.

  Even when the room filled with participants, who obviously didn’t want to waste their first day of Christmas vacation at a training course, the only person on her radar was the cute boy across the room. She wondered how obvious she was about her crush. Apparently, obvious enough that when it came time to practice the Heimlich maneuver, their militaristic instructor Sheila paired them up. Exactly how doe-y were her doe-eyes?

  Poor Keith seemed really self-conscious about wrapping his arms around her. It didn’t help that he had to do it while a room full of spectators looked on. But Ms. Militia hollered like a drill sergeant. “Get a good, tight grasp around your partner!”

  Boy, did he ever!

  “This is life or death, people,” Sheila had cried as he pressed on Amira’s belly. “Life or death!”

  The woman was nuts, but every time she screamed, Keith held Amira tighter. She th
ought her whole body might just melt and slip from his grasp. She never would have imagined feeling so safe in a pair of skinny little arms, but it turned out they were much stronger than they looked. His scent was familiar. One part soap, one part laundry detergent, and two parts science geek. She swooned, but he held her upright.

  Ever since that fateful December day, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. Keith’s body had been so close behind her she could still feel it there at times. Her skin sizzled. Her breath fluttered. Her auntie asked if she was feeling sickish.

  “What? Sick?” she asked. Of course she felt sick—lovesick! Family never understood. “No, Auntie, I’m fine. Tired, maybe. I’ll go to bed early tonight.”

  Her auntie, sister, and cousins all stared at her from around the dinner table. She tried not to miss meals. Since she’d moved into her auntie’s basement apartment, the family wondered what’s up with that girl? any time she didn’t eat with them. They always mistook emotion for illness. She couldn’t wait to steal back to her own space and daydream in peace.

  Even just thinking back over the time they spent with his long arms wrapped around her curves made her ecstatic. It was too bad they didn’t get to practice mouth-to-mouth on each other. That would have been nice. But no, they used a dummy for that nowadays.

  By the time their first aid class was over, Amira was burning up inside. She wondered if Keith felt it too, but how could she possibly ask? When she opened her mouth, silence fell out. Anxiety won, as usual. He left.

  For a few sad seconds, Amira thought all was lost, and then she caught sight of the registration list on Sheila’s table. How sleazy would it be to sneak a peek at Keith’s personal information? All she really wanted was his email address. And it’s not like she was going to spam him or anything. Was it really such a big deal?

  Amira grabbed a pen from her purse and scrawled the address on the inside of her arm, then set a direct course for the exit. Though her body was burning up already, she put on her knit scarf, hat, mitts, and baby blue pea coat. Out into the cold of another Canadian winter.

  Big, chunky flakes fell in wet clumps, melting against her hot cheeks. It wasn’t the cold that bothered her. Mostly, she hated that it got dark at four in the afternoon. No wonder Christmas, Hanukkah, and New Year’s all fell around the time of year when the sun was at its most evasive. Imagine how desperate the population would become without all the little twinkle lights and giant glowing orbs that kissed the cityscapes of North America.

  It was a mild snowfall that day, Amira reflected as she stared at the whiteness of her computer screen. Packing snow, Canadians called it. Why did they call it that? Probably because it was the only kind of snow you could pack together to build a snowman. They should call it snowman snow. She laughed at herself as she eased back in her chair. Naming the snow, eh Amira? Well, she’d already exhausted every other avenue of procrastination.

  All week, she’d postponed making contact. Not today; it’s Christmas Eve. Wouldn’t want to interrupt his Christmas dinner. Can’t now, it’s Boxing Day. When she pictured Keith’s large hazel eyes contoured with thick, long lashes, and imagined standing on tip-toes to kiss him, she was more determined than ever. His caring eyes could melt the icicles from the eaves. She imagined those eyes staring back at her from the computer screen. The time was nigh. Now, where to begin?

  Hello Keith.

  No, too formal.

  Hey Keith.

  No, too casual.

  Hi Keith.

  Yes, that was perfect! Pulling her curly hair into a ponytail, she stared at the body of her email. Okay, so she had the first two words. What next?

  Hi Keith,

  My name is Amira. We met last week at the first aid training session. I was just wondering if maybe you might remember me?

  Man, this attempt at flirtation was “like, so totally boring,” as her little sister would say. Amira scrapped it all and started over.

  Hi Keith,

  Amira here, from the first aid course. I’m sure you must remember me, because I can’t stop thinking about you.

  Well, how was that for ridiculous? There was no way good, quiet, respectable Amira could send anything so silly. It wasn’t her.

  Although, come to think of it, good, quiet, respectable Amira never had much fun, did she? And why not? Because she was too afraid of looking foolish? Of being turned down? What kind of a reason was that to always play it safe? Everybody needed a little bit of fun in life, and after years of self-denial, she was desperately craving amusement. Why not, just this once, tell someone what she was really thinking? If Keith thought she was a total moron, that was fine. She would probably never see him again anyway. But if Keith had the same thing in mind, Amira’s life might just become a lot more exciting…

  Chapter Two

  Amira Takes a Chance

  Hi Keith,

  Amira here, from the first aid course. I’m sure you must remember me, because I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t even begin to tell you how glad I am that I stole your e-mail address off your registration form. Maybe you think it’s cocky of me to write you like this. Or maybe you think it’s intrusive. Well, I have this persistent fantasy I’m just dying to tell you about because…guess what? You’re the star!

  In my fantasy, it’s five in the morning and I wake up to a tapping sound at my bedroom window. When my eyes finally focus, I realize it’s you crouching outside my basement apartment. I’m glad you didn’t go to the front door. See, my auntie and my cousins live upstairs and they’re a very nosy bunch.

  You want me to let you in, you say? I smile slyly, while I mull the idea over.

  “How discourteous of you to show up unannounced,” I tease. “And at such an unseemly hour! You’ve caught me in nothing but a nightie.”

  To punish you, I take my time in coming to the window. Will I open it and allow you inside, out of the cold? Or won’t I? I haven’t decided yet. At least, that’s what I pretend.

  Tossing my blankets down to my feet, I stretch like a cat, allowing a lot of flesh to peek out from under my black silk negligee. I roll out of bed and climb onto my big comfy reading chair under the window. You certainly do look cold, crouching out there in the five a.m. frost.

  Bet you’d love to come inside, wouldn’t you?

  Reaching over my bookshelf, I release the lock on my window and open it to let you in. My face and shoulders are assaulted by a gust of winter wind as I take your freezing hand. I’m relieved that my bookshelf doesn’t collapse when you climb down to safety. The winter chill accompanies you into my bedroom, but I’m too interested in your body to bother with the window.

  You’re cold. You’re so cold I shiver.

  “Next time you should wear a hat!” I instruct you. “You lose most of your body heat through your head, you know. Don’t worry, I’ll knit you one. I’m a whiz with two needles and a ball of wool.”

  Unzipping your fleece-lined winter jacket, I tear it from your shoulders. I pull your gloves off too. Your heart is pounding. You tell me you shouldn’t be here, we’ll get into trouble. My auntie will surely catch us and then I’ll never hear the end of it.

  I’m not concerned. I want you too badly to care about propriety, so I sit you down on my comfy chair and pull your grey sweatshirt over your head. “You can’t leave without your clothes, now can you?” With my help, you struggle out of your Montreal Canadiens T-shirt, tossing it impatiently onto the floor.

  So this is what you look like topless.

  Gazing at your smooth chest, I run my hands along its contours in the early morning glow of the winter moon. I want to feel it against me, but not before I get the rest of these clothes off you. You shiver from your excursion through the snow, so I take a cozy fleece blanket out of my cedar chest and wrap it around your shoulders. The silk of my black negligee brushes dangerously close to your cheek. Your scent is masculine and cool, like hockey rink coupled with deep sleep.

  The darkness feels conspicuous now, so I light eve
ry candle I can find. My cinnamon skin glows with an orange tint and yours looks golden in the candlelight.

  I watch you watching me as I kneel to take off your snow-covered boots. They’re soaking my bedroom carpet, but I’ll worry about that later. Leaning forward, I showcase my ample cleavage, dying for freedom from the silk that encloses it. Oh, my breasts are so cold from the winter air. Your feet are freezing too, underneath your sports socks, so I rub them quickly between my warm hands. But my hands aren’t warm enough to defrost your poor toes, so I release warm breath upon them.

  That’s better. Nice and toasty warm.

  When I slowly unzip your jeans, you raise your butt so I can pull them off. With all the confidence I can muster, I remove your underwear. I’m impressed. So are you, it would appear. Your handsome cock is looking straight at me. He’s not cold. No, he’s red-hot and heat-seeking.