We Wish You A Naughty Christmas: A Christmas Collection

by Skye Warren

  I pull his face toward mine. “I don’t ever want to be anywhere without you again.”

  “I want that too.”

  Epilogue

  One year later

  Adam grins at me, my hands in his, and my core goes molten hot. I bite my lip, just a little, but I hold it together. We have an audience.

  “I do.”

  The priest moves back half a step. “You may kiss your bride!”

  Adam takes my face in his hands and kisses me, long and deep, the audience be damned, and the church erupts in cheers.

  This day is absolute perfection, but it has nothing to do with the dress, or the cake. It’s all about the man standing in front of me. The man I always wanted.

  “It is my pleasure to announce to you, for the first time in public, Mr. And Mrs. Adam Walker!”

  We turn to face our guests, my parents beaming in the front row next to Adam’s parents, all of our friends and family behind them, and a jolt of pure joy zips through me.

  Music swells as he tucks my hand into the crook of his arm and we fly down the steps, moving quickly toward the exit, our wedding party behind.

  Adam leans down.

  “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  “But do you know what?”

  We burst through the doors of the church.

  “What, husband mine?”

  “I can’t wait to get that dress off of you.”

  “I know a secret closet.”

  “Let’s go.”

  He takes my hand in his and I pick up the hem of my dress, running toward the beginning of a lifetime of joy.

  THE END

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  Part XVI

  Merry F*cking Christmas by Abby Brooks writing as Wren Williams

  Chapter 1

  Scott

  Who doesn’t love a chance to scope out hot younger chicks for the holidays? Baby, it’s cold outside, but it’s fucking hot in here and holy shit, am I ever in my element. The bar in this hotel is just swanky enough that I don’t look completely out of place in my Armani suit and custom-made cufflinks. They’re handcrafted in the shape of handcuffs and it’s not because I’m a cop, if you know what I mean. I wear them as my first line of defense against a shitty lay. If a woman notices them and looks up at me, biting her bottom lip and batting her eyelashes, I know we’re good to go.

  I wonder what the brunette at the end of the bar will think when she sees them. She’s being coy. Playing hard to get, but that’s only because she wants me to come get her. I know her type, understand the signs. The little toss of her hair, the glances she throws my way over the edge of her drink, the way she licks her bright red lips as she lowers the glass. She looks young, probably about the same age as my best friend’s daughter, Maisie. And by that, I mean just barely old enough to drink.

  She looks a little bit like Maisie, too. They share the same rich, brown hair. The same tight little figure, a little curvy, heavy in the hips and breasts. That’s probably part of the reason I can’t drag my eyes off her. Ever since Maisie turned eighteen three years ago, I’ve had the hardest time looking at her and not seeing just how perfectly fuckable she is. Considering her dad has called me her ‘Uncle Scott’ ever since she was old enough to walk, I get the creep factor there. But damn, Maisie Cook has turned into one hell of a woman.

  Of course, the girl at the end of the bar has, too. Maybe even more so because I can’t imagine Maisie ever wearing a dress that short and tight. She loves her jeans and t-shirts too much. I check my watch—a Cartier, of course—and do a quick calculation. I have just enough time to make my play for Little Miss Hot and Sexy over there before I’m supposed to meet Maisie and show her to her room. We’re driving to her parents’ house in Philly tomorrow for a week-long Christmas celebration. Since Maisie lives on campus at Penn State and doesn’t have a car of her own, I agreed to stop here on my way up from Miami. We’re going to get an early start in the morning, so I just went ahead and booked Maisie a room for the night. I’ll get her in and get her settled and then get my rocks off with her lookalike while fantasizing I’m balls deep in her.

  The trick to making a decent play for a younger girl is to make them come to you. Never, ever go to them because then they see you as a perverted old guy who totally took the bait they laid out. You have to stay in control of the situation from the beginning. Look but don’t touch, see but don’t take. It’s all about the nonchalant eye-fucking until she is so drawn to you she can’t help but come over to play. I’ve caught this one looking all night. Little blips of eye contact hidden behind her hair or her drink. I know by the way she keeps touching her neck—her nails painted the same shade of red as her lips—that she’s primed and ready for me.

  I sit back in my chair, throw an arm over the back, and widen my legs. She takes one last drink of what looks like straight up bourbon and finally looks my way as she places the glass back on the bar. With a little toss of her hair, her entire face is finally visible and my jaw drops as my cock hardens. This girl doesn’t just look like Maisie Cook.

  She is Maisie Cook.

  My best friend’s daughter smiles at me as she grabs her drink and stands, pausing only to tug the little black dress down over her ass. She saunters my way and the sway of her hips and curve of her tits do absolutely nothing to soothe my poor fucking dick. It only gets harder the closer she gets and I close my legs and lean my elbows into the bar, hoping to hide the massive tent I’ve pitched there.

  “Fancy meeting you here,” she says as she takes the empty chair next to me.

  “Hey, Maisie.” I run a hand through my hair, graying at the temples sure, but still thick and dark enough to put other men my age to shame.

  She grabs my hand on its way back to the bar and peers at the cufflink at my wrist.

  Fuck. Me.

  There it is.

  The knowing smile. Her bottom lip captured between her teeth. The little glimmer of curiosity in her eyes. “Nice,” she says and releases my hand.

  I was so set on fucking this girl and pretending she’s Maisie, I don’t know what to do now that I know she really is Maisie. It’s all kinds of bad form to move on my best friend’s daughter. Especially because I’ve known her since the day she was born. But fucking hell, she’s hard to ignore. And I can’t help but think she’s not interested in being ignored.

  “You’re awfully dressed up,” I say doing my damndest to keep my eyes on her face. Of course, that does nothing for my poor straining dick. Those bright eyes, those cherry lips, the color on her high cheekbones. I can just imagine her mouth open as she gasps for air as I drive myself into her again and again.

  “I don’t get too many chances to go out. I figured you’d be rockin’ the suit and tie and saw a chance to get all pretty.” She lowers her chin and looks up at me through her eyelashes. “Did it work?”

  When it comes to women, I am never off my game. I am always in control. They walk up to me and it’s just a matter of them passing the few subtle little tests I give them before I fuck them senseless. From the moment Maisie walked over here, I’ve been completely and utterly out of control. I don’t like it.

  “You look alright,” I say, grinning like an idiot. “For a little girl.”

  “I’m not a little girl.” She tilts her head to the side and bites that damn bottom lip again. All I want to do is bite it for her.

  “No, Maisie. You’re not a little girl anymore.” I meant the words to be a warning, a reminder to myself that this is Jason’s little girl—the daughter of my best friend. That I have no right making a move on her.

  But that’s not at all how it came out.

  Instead, it’s an admission of how much I want her right now, an admission of how much I’ve wanted her for the last several years. And somehow, I get the sense that the feeling is one hundred percent mutual.

  Chapter 2

  Maisie

  I recogni
zed Scott the moment he walked in and sat down. How could I not? That fitted suit highlighting his trim figure, hiding the muscles and tattoos I know he’s hiding underneath. That full head of dark hair, the little bits of silver at his temples making him all the more distinguished. This is only the man I’ve fantasized about since I was old enough to fantasize. I’ve masturbated to Scott since I was fifteen years old and damn if he doesn’t keep getting better with age.

  When I started catching him looking at me, I knew he had no idea who I was and that made it all the better. I flirted and teased and the more I caught him looking, the more turned on I got. My panties have been wet since he sat down. I keep thinking of his cock, wondering how big it is. Is he long? Thick? Curved?

  Inquiring minds, you know?

  I’ve always had a thing for older men and I know Scott’s always had a thing for younger women. Well, let’s expand on that point a little. I’ve always had a thing for Scott, which just naturally turned into a thing for older men because Scott’s pretty much off limits, what with him being my dad’s best friend. As far as why Scott’s always had a thing for younger women? As much as I like to pretend it’s because he’s always had a thing for me, I’m going to assume it’s just the way he is.

  Although, given the way he keeps running his gaze over my body, I’m starting to wonder if maybe he doesn’t have a thing for me, too.

  “So why handcuffs?” I ask, smiling as I watch him drag his gaze up from my mouth.

  Scott’s eyes go dark with lust only for him to blink and turn away from me, giving his focus to his drink. “I like to support local law enforcement,” he says, letting his gaze flick to mine.

  “Right. Totally.” I wait until he turns to me, laughing a little at his own joke before I reach out and play with one of the little silver handcuffs at his wrist. “Me too,” I say and wait for him to catch my meaning.

  I don’t have to wait long. His pupils dilate and his nostrils flare, his eyelids go all heavy and sultry as his gaze burns into mine. Scott’s eyes are such a light blue, they’re almost silver and holy fuck are they ever sexy.

  Maybe it’s the two drinks I’ve already had or maybe it’s a lifetime of yearning and fantasies getting too heavy to hold onto, but I’m going to get Scott to fuck me tonight before he takes me to my parents’ house tomorrow. I don’t know what’s sexier, thinking about having him inside me or thinking about standing next to my mom, knowing that I’ve had his cock in my pussy. Or maybe it’s a combination of the two that’s my undoing.

  I run my fingernails along his thigh. “We should get out of here,” I say, in my best sex-kitten voice.

  Scott takes my hand and sets it on my lap, pulling his hand away from my exposed skin as if it disgusted him. “We should,” he says, not meeting my gaze. “I’ll get you up to your room.” He clears his throat as he hops off the chair and digs in his pocket for his wallet. “We’ll have an early morning if we want to get to Philly on time.”

  He pays both our tabs and we stop at the concierge to pick up my bags. When they offer to call a porter to help us with our luggage, he turns them down and then leads me to the elevator, wheeling both our suitcases behind him. It looks more than a little awkward and the only reason I can come up with for him to turn down the help is that he wants to be alone with me. There’s no denying the chemistry between us. It’s been there for years. And now, finally, I get him all to myself. My pussy clenches just thinking about it and I squeeze my thighs together as the elevator doors slide shut.

  We stand side by side, looking straight ahead and that is so not going to cut it for me. I step into him, run my hands up under his suit jacket, squeezing a little as I pass over the firm chest muscles hidden underneath his finely pressed shirt. He swallows as I reach up, grab his face, and pull his lips down to mine.

  The kiss is awkward for the time it takes him to draw in one sharp breath, and then it’s more heated than I ever could have imagined. His tongue parts my lips, dances with my own. He brings his hands to my waist and then slides them down to grip my ass, pushing my hips into his bulging cock. I moan into his mouth and press my breasts against his chest.

  And then he pushes me away, gripping my shoulders so tightly it almost hurts. “We can’t do this, Maisie.” He’s holding me at arm’s length and I can’t help but think it’s more because he can’t trust himself to do what he thinks is right more than any real desire to stop.

  “Yes, we can.” I stare into his eyes, daring him to say anything different.

  “You’re too young.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  He licks his lips as he stares at my mouth. “You’re my best friend’s little girl.”

  “Yep,” I say, popping the P at the end of the word. “But I’m not a little girl.”

  He doesn’t have a response for me and I know that’s because I’ve got him. I’ve won.

  “So,” I say as the elevator doors slide open. “You want to show me the real reason you have handcuffs as cufflinks?”

  Chapter 3

  Scott

  I don’t know how we manage to get from the elevator, down the hallway, and into my hotel room without touching each other, but we do. The moment the door closes behind us, though, it’s a different story altogether. I grip her waist and pull her towards me, dropping our suitcases and shrugging out of the bag slung over my shoulder. My mouth goes to hers and there’s nothing but the rush of our breath and the rustle of our clothing.

  My hands roam her body and it’s almost like I’m fifteen again. I haven’t been this frenzied since I was young and impetuous and more interested in getting off than experiencing the limits of pleasure. What is it about Maisie Cook that has me so out of control? She’s got me off my game, working on instinct and a need to have her that defies all other thoughts. I need to get a hold of myself because Maisie is a delicacy that deserves to be savored, not devoured

  And then she snakes her hands down between us and squeezes my raging hard cock and obliterates all thoughts of control. I grip her shoulders and pull her farther into the room then drag the zipper of her dress down. The thing falls to her feet and she stands there in her red lace lingerie and heels, looking totally and completely edible.

  “You like what you see?” she asks, purring like a damn kitten. “I picked it out just for you.”

  I give her the once-over, staring at her lush curves, her round tits, the swell of her hips and all I can think about is getting my hands on that ass. “Just for me, huh?”

  Maisie nods. Runs her hands up her stomach and cups her tits. “From the moment I found out we’d be staying at the same hotel tonight, I started planning this. I’ve wanted you so long.” She squeezes a nipple and tilts her head to the side. “Don’t you want me?”

  “Fuck yes, I want you.” I slide my suit coat down off my shoulders and fold it carefully before draping it over the back of one of the chairs near the window. I fiddle with my cufflinks, using the moment to remind myself that I’m the one in control of this situation, that I’m always the one in control of the situation. Maisie eyes me as I loosen my tie and then slowly undo the buttons on my shirt.

  “You feel like explaining those cufflinks to me?” she asks, arching one knowing eyebrow.

  I stare her down, undo my belt, and pull it from my pants. “On your knees,” I order.

  “Nope,” she says, biting that damn bottom lip.

  Aware of how much she’s been enjoying my little striptease, I slide the shirt off my arms and drape it over my jacket. I spend enough time in the gym to be confident that she likes what she sees. I might be getting close to forty-five, but I know I still put most college kids to shame.

  “You like being a bad girl?” I ask, stepping into her, taking her chin between my thumb and forefinger and turning her face up to mine.

  Maisie strokes my cock through my pants and then fiddles with the button. “I just like being bad.”

  And that’s just about all I can take. I push her hand away and slide my pa
nts down, freeing my raging erection. She stares down at it, eyes wide, before licking her lips and kneeling. Her warm tongue dances along my shaft and I fist my hand in that lush hair of hers. She thinks she’s in control of this situation, but she’s got another thing coming to her. I’ll show her what it means to be a bad girl.

  “Open your mouth. I want to fuck your throat.”

  She looks up at me and opens wide. I slide my cock into her, feel the back of her throat, and then push farther. Her eyes water and her throat constricts while I pump into her face. Fucking hell, my hand in her hair, her wide eyes looking up at me, her warm mouth on my cock, it’s hot as sin. I face-fuck her while she gags on my dick. My balls clench and I’m way too close to spilling my load down her throat. I pull out, a long string of spittle hanging between us before it drips onto her tits.

  “Stand,” I growl.

  Maisie smiles and licks the tip of my dick. She wants to be bad? I’ll show her what happens to a bad girl. I pull her up by her hair, not too hard, but hard enough to make a point, and damn if that girl doesn’t pop right up to her feet.

  “I want you kneeling on the bed. Now.”

  When she just stands there, grinning at me, I push her over to the king-sized mattress and push her down onto it, before helping her to her hands and knees. Her panties are nothing but in the way, so with one firm tug at the thin material, I pull them off her. As soon as her ass is bare, I slap one cheek. Hard. She cries out and I slap her again.

  “See what happens to bad girls?” Maisie looks at me over her shoulder as I slap her yet again, the look in her eyes telling me just how much she loves having me redden her ass.

  When I’m done, I climb up behind her and press my dick against her opening. She’s so fucking wet, I just slide right in without hesitation. She groans and starts clenching around me. So fucking tight she might as well be a virgin. Normally, I’d take my time with her, go slow. Remind her that I’m in control and she’s mine to play with. But I’ve used up all my self-control for the evening.