We Wish You A Naughty Christmas: A Christmas Collection

by Skye Warren

  It’s worrying how often I think about Alexander Davenport while I masturbate.

  Maybe I should’ve been thinking about his hot twin sons instead.

  They’re waiting. Smiling. That stupid sprig of mistletoe still hovering over my head.

  “Alright,” I say, and I can’t quite believe it. “One kiss, one little kiss, and I’ll settle the bet.”

  I take a breath and prepare myself, hoping my moisture deluxe lip gloss is holding up nicely and suddenly grateful I didn’t opt for the garlic mushroom starter. I look up at Seb and wish he wasn’t so damn gorgeous, pursing my lips just a little, ready to receive his.

  But he laughs, grabs my hand, and I’m pulled along on my stupid high heels as he drags me in the direction of the stairs with Dominic close behind us.

  “Wait!” I say. “Where the hell are we going?”

  I tug him to a stop but he doesn’t let go of my hand. He looks down at me, and his smile shows his perfect teeth.

  “You didn’t think we were actually going to kiss you in the foyer, did you?” He laughs and so does Dommie.

  My mouth must be flapping, my expression nothing more than a gawp as Seb raises an eyebrow.

  “No way,” he says, and his voice has that husk again. “Believe me, you’re not going to want to be in public for this.”

  “But where?” I say, and I can’t believe I’m actually asking.

  Dommie winks, and Seb laughs again, and I’m suckered in. I’m really suckered in to this craziness.

  “Trust me,” Dommie whispers, and I realise he’s got my stupid cardboard tits in his hand. “You’re going to really appreciate the venue.”

  “No way!” I say, and I’m backing away. “You guys have a death wish.”

  Seb’s still got my hand, still tugging me along as my skirt shimmies around my legs. “Yes way!” he insists. “Come on! You can’t stand the prick any more than we can. This is perfect! Really fucking perfect!”

  I stare at Mr. Davenport’s closed office door, knowing full well it won’t be locked since I’ve got the key in my drawer and haven’t used it in weeks. We pass my desk, complete with its epic pile of paperwork, and I cringe at the thought of stepping into my boss’s empty office with his two crazy sons.

  “It’ll just take a minute,” Dominic says. “Just two little kisses.”

  Seb opens the door and I close my eyes as he pulls me on through. I hear the lights ping on before I dare to look, and it’s so familiar in here, with its statement mahogany desk and expensive laptop. He has pompous modern art monstrosities lining the walls and this weird ceramic sculpture on his desk that must have cost thousands but looks like a piece of crap. I’ve looked at it so many times during his ranting monologues, trying my best not to fall asleep as he recounts the same office frustrations over and over again.

  His pen holder is polished steel and holds gold pens. Not the cheap plated ones you get as corporate gifts, the genuine article. He uses them to scribble memos on headed paper, just another way of telling himself he’s the big I am.

  Sebastian steps behind the desk and presses the button to open the blinds. They make a weird swoosh as they reveal the London skyline, and I see myself in the reflection, my own horror staring back at me, so much more visible than the lights over the Thames, my red dress a racy beacon. At least my hair looks good, Amy did a good job with the curler.

  “Lighten up,” Dommie says. “Pops will be down there for hours yet, lapping up the praise from all the ass lickers angling for a bonus.”

  “You’re so clever, Mr. Davenport,” Seb mocks. “You’re a business genius. A pioneer.”

  “Let me lick your shoes, Mr. Davenport. We’re not worthy,” Dommie joins in.

  I can imagine it, too. I can practically hear the voices from the same old kiss-ups. It seems Seb and Dommie know the business far better than I gave them credit for.

  Seb roots in his father’s drawer and finds the key to the cabinet I know Mr. Davenport keeps in there. He uses it, presenting a bottle of Mr. Davenport’s ridiculously pricey whisky, and I gasp in mortification.

  “No!” I hiss. “He’ll know!”

  Seb shrugs. “So what?”

  “So, he’ll know!”

  “Screw him,” Dommie says, and takes a tumbler from his brother. “You drinking or not?”

  I look between them, and they are so easy in here. Their confidence flows right through them. I shrug. “May as well, since you’ll likely get me fired anyway.”

  “He won’t fire you.” Seb laughs, like it’s a stupid concept. “He needs you.”

  He needs me? I can’t believe they think he actually needs me. My face must say it, because Dom rolls his eyes at me.

  “He’ll have you believe you mean nothing to him,” he says. “He’s always like that. But believe me, he needs you. He’s always fucking talking about you. Chloe this and Chloe that.”

  “He’s totally got a thing for you.” Seb smirks at me. “I guess he likes the snotty librarian look as much as we do.”

  Snotty?

  Librarian?

  The cheek of it!

  “Family trait.” Dom grins and clinks Seb’s glass before handing me one.

  I don’t know which revelation I should react to first. The fact they think their father likes me, that they do themselves, or they think I look like a snotty fucking librarian.

  “I hardly look like a librarian this evening,” I say. I put my hand on my hip to illustrate my point, like it’s needed.

  I know my dress is low, I know my girls are probably more bouncy than they should be given the fact the frock demands I go braless, and I know Seb’s already groped plenty of my bare back this evening.

  “No,” Dommie says. “You look hot tonight. Hot like sexy hot, not like nerdy hot.”

  “Nerdy hot is still good, though.” Seb grins.

  “Gee, thanks,” I say and roll my eyes.

  The whisky is strong. It burns my throat. Quite why you’d want to pay a fortune for this crap is beyond me.

  “So,” Seb says. “That kiss.” He twirls that damn mistletoe in his fingers.

  “Alright,” I say. “Let’s get this done, and then we get out of here.”

  “If you’re still wearing your knickers.” Dom’s voice is so confident, so cocky.

  I try to shrug it off, act like it’s no big deal when Seb pats the desk to beckon me over.

  “Ridiculous,” I huff. “This is so ridiculous.”

  “Sit,” Seb instructs, and my tummy flutters with the mischief of all this as I place my ass demurely on Mr. Davenport’s pompous mahogany. Dommie lifts my feet, makes me rest my heels on Mr. Davenport’s leather chair, and the nerves make me heady, make me giggle.

  “I’m so going to get fired…” I say, as much to myself as to them.

  “Better make it worth it, then,” Seb says, and he’s so close, his breath in my face, his eyes hooded, lips ready to land on mine.

  I think I’m expecting it, but I’m not. I think it’ll be a cool nothing, just a stupid kiss, but his lips are soft and warm, pressing so firmly against mine as he lets out a growl that shouldn’t be horny at all, but totally is.

  He slips his tongue between my lips at just the right time. Exhales a slow breath at just the right time. Sebastian Davenport does everything at just the right time, and I feel my belly tickling, my heartrate picking up, my hands coming up of their own accord to wrap around his strong shoulders.

  His tongue tastes of whisky, and it hunts mine so perfectly that I can’t help but moan. I feel him smile, and hear Dommie laugh, and try to remind myself that this is a stupid bet, and I’m in my boss’s office with twin brothers I really shouldn’t want at once. But it’s useless. Really useless. Because Sebastian is a master with his mouth, and his fingers find the sweet spot behind my ears, the spot that makes me go squirmy-crazy, and my clit is a treacherous little bitch, thrumming away so hard that I have to clench my thighs together.

  Seb notices that, too, I’m su
re, because his kiss becomes more urgent, more possessive, and I’m right there with him, my tongue meeting his right back, my breath ragged as my fingers grasp at his shoulders through his tux.

  “Hey,” Dom says, his voice laced with laughter. “Time up. My fucking turn.”

  Seb pulls away with a smile, and my lips feel puffy, my heart still thumping. “Be my guest,” he says, and pats his brother on the back. “I think the bet’s been won already.”

  “Nah,” Dom says and takes his place. “Pride comes before a fall, bro, you’ll be eating your words in a few minutes.”

  I doubt that, I doubt that very much, but Dom’s eyes are absolutely gorgeous up close, slightly darker than his brother’s, with a mischievous glint that sets my clit off all over again. His lips meet mine with more force than his brother’s had, and his tongue is faster, harder, demanding I open my mouth so much wider to let him in.

  I do let him in, and I like it. I like it so much that I’m squirming on the desk, my hands gripping the edge as I struggle to keep my balance.

  That’s when Dominic Davenport makes an epic move.

  I feel his fingertips on my throat, feel him smile as they squeeze just a little. My moan says it all, and I’m so angry with myself beneath the flutters, so pissed that these guys have uncovered my inner slut so efficiently.

  He lets out a victorious little laugh but doesn’t break the kiss, and his other hand comes up to take my hair, wrapping my perfect curls around his fingers and pinning me in position. Oh my fucking God.

  I’m burning up now.

  Really fucking burning up.

  He licks the corner of my mouth, and I gasp, my fingers still gripping the desk for dear life.

  “I think that seals the deal,” he whispers. “Who’s won?”

  My glazed eyes struggle to focus through the horny fog in my brain.

  “Who gives a fuck who won?” Seb laughs a dirty laugh. “More of a pressing question is, have those knickers fallen down yet or do they need more coaxing?”

  My knickers. My poor wet knickers didn’t stand a chance against that kind of sexual prowess. I let out a squeak as Dominic slides my skirt up my thighs, but make no effort whatsoever to stop him. And I’m so exposed, the little scrap of lace between my legs offering nothing whatsoever in the way of modesty.

  “Nice,” Seb says. “I don’t think they’re gonna do a very good job of staying up though.”

  “Ain’t that the truth.” Dominic smirks and I don’t even have the resolve left to deny it.

  My thighs fall apart as Dom coaxes them, without even the guise of restraint, and two sets of blue eyes stare at my fluttery pussy. I’m sure they can see I’m shaven through the flimsy white fabric.

  “I knew you’d have a sweet little cunt,” Seb says, and I love the way his voice sounds when he talks such filth.

  “That’s one bet we can both cash in,” Dominic tells me. “We’d have gone all in with that little wager.”

  “Gonna fuck you,” Seb whispers, and he’s close again. Really close. “Both of us. We’ve known we’re gonna fuck you since you wore that tight little pencil skirt last spring and dropped a biro on the floor under the meeting room desk.”

  I remember it. Oh fuck, I remember it. Scrabbling around on all fours while Mr. Davenport huffed and puffed about losing his train of thought. I’d crawled out flustered, my skirt all bunched around my thighs and my blouse all dishevelled and the twins had been staring. I thought they’d been revelling at my expense, thinking me nothing but a cheap excuse for a laugh.

  But clearly not.

  “I had a fucking hard-on right the way through the rest of that meeting,” Seb says.

  “Me too,” Dom adds.

  “I think Pops did, too.” Seb laughs, and it feels so dirty, this thrill running through me. “He sure stopped pacing after that. Went straight to the bathroom when the meeting was done.”

  The thought of Mr. Davenport jerking off to my little faux pas only adds to my crazy excitement. Christ, I wish I’d known this sooner. I wish I’d known it through all the times my vibrator was buzzing against my clit and his stern scowl was thumping through my brain.

  “Those knickers are falling down, aren’t they, Chloe?” Dom prompts. “Show us how they’re falling down. Let us see that sweet little pussy.”

  Oh fuck, I really shouldn’t. Not here, on Mr. Davenport’s desk. Not with two guys at once, two twins at once. But I do. I hook my thumbs in the slutty scrap of fabric and slide my knickers down over my thighs.

  “Good girl,” Seb says. “That’s the Chloe we’ve been dreaming about. The horny little bitch we knew was lurking behind the prissy act.”

  He yanks at my dress, and the sequined cups come loose, setting the girls bouncing free for their viewing. I can see myself in the floor-to-ceiling windows, reflected in all my exposed glory, nipples proud and perky, tits ripe for groping.

  I tip my head back as Dommie’s fingers land on my tingling skin. He grips my breast, tweaks my nipple just enough to send sparks to my clit, and Seb’s hand slides between my thighs to find me wanting there.

  “Dirty little bitch,” he growls. “Fuck, you’re so fucking wet.”

  I hear myself, hear the noises my pussy makes as his thumb circles my clit.

  “Yes,” I hiss. “Oh fuck yes…”

  Dommie’s mouth closes around my nipple, sucks hard as he grips and gropes my other tit. His mouth feels so nice, his tongue darting quickly enough to send me fucking crazy.

  I groan as Seb slides two fingers inside me, and I’m ready for it, ready for more. I’ve been gagging for some decent dick for far too long, a vibrator just doesn’t cut it, not even close.

  Seb pumps his hand back and forth, grating at the right spot, and I wonder how the fuck these guys know their way around a woman’s body so fucking well.

  Dommie’s nice and rough with my tits, and I like it. He pushes his fingers in my mouth until I moan and retch, and I like that too.

  Seb’s hand is like a piston, fingers fucking me hard, his thumb pressing against my clit hard enough to make me grind right back at him.

  I’m going to come on Mr. Davenport’s desk, with my Christmas frock around my waist and his son’s fingers in my pussy, and there’s not one fucking thing I can do about it. Not a single thing I want to do about it.

  “Let’s give Pops a little gift,” Seb whispers, and I hear the steel pen pot rattling. I gasp in horror but do nothing whatsoever to stop him. The metal of Mr. Davenport’s pens is cold against my pussy. The ridges of his fountain pens so hard against my clit.

  “Shit…” I whisper.

  “Gonna fuck you with his prized pens,” Seb tells me. “He’ll have the scent of your cunt on his little treasures and he won’t even fucking know it. He’ll think he’s going fucking mad when he catches a hint of you.”

  I don’t have time to protest before he pushes them inside me. It’s got to be at least four, but they slip in easily, and I’m working my hips to take more of them, a cold metal shaft fucking me nice and hard.

  “More…” Dommie grunts, and hands his brother another load from the pen pot.

  I let out a moan as I feel the stretch. “Yes… fuck me…”

  “That’s our slutty little librarian,” Seb rasps. “I fucking knew it.”

  Dommie pushes me backwards until I’m flat on the desk, and they have more leverage there, Dominic pinning me with his body while Seb keeps fucking me with those fucking pens. I kiss him, deep and hard, and my fingers are at his shirt, wrestling that damn tux off him as he loosens his belt and frees his cock.

  He grips my fingers around his shaft, and he’s big. He really is a perfect dick with a perfect dick, and I suspect his brother is blessed with the same attributes.

  Seb’s tongue finds my clit and flicks back and forth in just the right way, and I’m squirming, begging for more, begging for cock, both of their cocks.

  “You’ll get them,” Dommie whispers. “You’ll fucking get them. Don’t
you worry.”

  Seb pushes the pens right into me and sucks on my clit, and it’s too much, it’s way too fucking much to bear. He yanks the pens away and I come quickly, with a load of mewls that sound feral, my tits bobbing as I squirm against Seb’s face.

  Dommie takes my wrists and pins them over my head, and it’s clumsy, too clumsy.

  I hear the crash of ceramic as the monstrous sculpture hits the floor, and the rush of dread engulfs me as my orgasm subsides.

  Oh fuck. Oh fucking fuck, no. The sculpture, the fucking sculpture!

  I’m mortified, struggling to look at the full extent of the horror, but Seb and Dommie are in hysterics, laughing away without care for the seriousness of this disaster.

  “Don’t worry,” Seb laughs as he rises from his knees to join us on the desk. “It’ll be our little secret. Pops will blame a cleaner, or some random drunk for stumbling into his office.”

  “But it should be locked!” I hiss. “I should’ve locked it!”

  “So say you did.” Seb grins. “Say it was a forced entry. Just like this.” He thrusts his hips and his cock pushes deep, and I know I should check if he’s wearing a rubber, but I don’t even care, it feels too fucking good.

  He’s easily as thick as his brother, easily as big. I wrap my legs around his waist and he fucks me hard, the angle just right. Dommie lifts my head until I can see my reflection in the windows, and it looks so fucking dirty, Seb’s toned ass thrusting back and forth, my legs spread so fucking wide.

  Dommie moves, steps away, and his shadow appears over me, his thick cock ready to slap against my cheek. He yanks me towards him until my head lolls over the edge of the desk, and Seb lifts my legs to fuck me deeper, harder, while I take Dommie’s cock in my mouth.

  He’s rough, thrusting his dick into my throat until I retch and splutter, and I don’t care. I want more. I want more of everything, all of it, all of them.

  “We love a fucking spit roast,” Seb rasps. “Take it deep now, show us how well you can use that pretty little mouth of yours.”