by Maren Smith
“Okay baby girl, you win. I’ll do it. But only if you’re my naughty elf. And I get to choose your outfit.” He winked, but she was too excited to notice the mischief in his eyes as he pictured her in a skimpy elf costume, over Santa’s knee, getting spanked.
She let out a squeal and threw her arms around his neck, jumping up and wrapping her legs around his waist, clinging on tightly. “Thank you thank you thank you!” she squealed, breathlessly, the words gushing out of her quick and fast, all in one breath. “It’s going to be so much fun!”
Silently, Clay doubted that, but he kept his opinion to himself. Instead he just smiled, extricated himself from Bianca’s strangling hold around his neck, kissed her forehead, and placed her gently on the floor.
“You know what happens to naughty little elves, don’t you?” he asked, grinning.
“What?” Bianca asked, feigning innocence.
“They go over Santa’s knee and get their bottoms smacked.” Bending down, he kissed her nose, then reached around behind her and swatted her backside playfully. It wasn’t a hard swat, but it made her yelp, before she laughed.
“Getting a spanking will be worth it if I get to see you in a Santa outfit.”
Clay flexed his hand menacingly. “Don’t count on it, brat,” he growled.
Laughing, Bianca darted backwards, out of his reach, then quickly turned and sashayed away, her hips swinging sexily. But she didn’t turn quite quickly enough. Just before her back was completely to him, he saw the side of her face turn up in violent movement as she wrenched her jaw in a vicious tic. She tried to hide her Tourette’s from him, from everyone, but he knew. He knew she struggled at this time of year, he knew how much she missed Annie, and how that stress impacted on her tics. He wished he could do more to help her. Still, he’d agreed to be play the role of Santa at the stables on Christmas morning, so hopefully that would go some small way to taking her mind off more sombre thoughts. Hopefully it would give her something to look forward to, something to organise with Jen.
At the thought of Jen, he shook his head in fond amusement. A champion jockey, the diminutive woman shared her life with his brothers Luke and Cody, and when she got together with Bianca, there were no limits to the amount of mischief they caused. As he walked through the stables to his office upstairs on the mezzanine floor, he wondered what havoc the girls planned to wreak this time.
“CHRISTMAS BELLS, THOSE Christmas bells, ring out from the land!” Much to the consternation of the other staff members, Bianca had kept the stable stereo stacked full of Christmas music CDs for the past two weeks, and as she walked up the wide aisle of the barn now with her rake and wheelbarrow, she belted out the lyrics to Snoopy’s Christmas and swayed her hips in time to the music. She was a much better jockey than she was a singer, but she didn’t let that stop her. It was Christmas time! And she was going to enjoy it. She looked around, trying to decide where to put the tree, and build Santa’s throne. Clay had already vetoed the idea of sparkly tinsel or flashing lights inside the stables for fear of spooking the horses, but there was room for a tree. She’d put it up right at the edge, up against the feed room door, with a bale of hay in front of it, for Santa Clay to sit on to hand out the presents. She couldn’t wait to discuss her plans with Jen—it would be so much fun!
Lost in thought, she absently mucked out the stall, on automatic pilot as she sifted the clean sawdust from the soiled. She was so busy picturing how she wanted to decorate Santa’s grotto that she didn’t hear the footsteps clicking on the concrete floor of the barn. Nor did she register when they came to a stop behind her. But the crack! of a riding crop across the fullest part of her jean-clad ass made her straighten up in shock.
“Oi!” She protested, spinning around to glare at the offender.
The sexy wink accompanying Clay’s throaty chuckle nearly made her insides turn somersaults. The man was so damn sexy! He never failed to turn her on, no matter what he was doing. She squirmed uncomfortably at the flush of dampness in the crotch of her underwear as the air around her grew too thick to breathe. Was Clay aware of her arousal?
“Practice,” he drawled, his deep voice rumbling through her. “Not long now until Santa gets to spank his naughty elf.” He winked again, and waggled the end of the crop in her direction, before sauntering off, his muscular legs and tight backside testament to hours spent in the saddle. Watching him walk away, Bianca shivered at the sensation that gripped the base of her spine and poked its heat between her legs. She couldn’t wait!
Big Red was her last ride of the morning. The huge liver chestnut gelding had been the first horse she’d ridden when she’d started this job, as a test of her ability more than anything else, and ever since she’d proven she could control the huge, powerful horse, he’d been one of her favourite rides. With impeccable timing, Clay arrived to boost her into the saddle about two seconds after she’d buckled the girth securely. The other track rider was already mounted and waiting for her.
Some of the track riders liked to talk to each other as they galloped around the track, but Bianca didn’t; she talked to her horse. Big Red’s long strides ate up the ground as they flew around the track at top speed and she felt all her tension melt away as her body moved in rhythm with the gelding. Crouched forward over his wither, her fingers tangled in his mane, the wind blew past them with a roar, blowing away all the cobwebs and all her sadness.
“Annie should be here,” she told the big horse. “Christmas isn’t the same without her. I miss her so much.” Big Red’s ears flicked back to listen to her, but he didn’t slow his pace as they sped down the straight stretch of dirt track. “But we’ve got plans, Jen and I. Clay is going to dress up as Santa and we’re going to hand out presents...” She stopped talking then, not wanting Bruce, the other track rider to overhear, and spoil the surprise. “All we need to do now is buy the gifts and decorate the place!”
Bianca got lost in the motion of the horse, letting the rhythmic rocking lull her into a kind of daydreamy state. This would be the first Christmas she would share with Jen. She loved the Lewis family—Clay and his two brothers Luke and Cody had made her feel part of the family long ago, as did their parents. She was truly a Lewis now – by name as well as love. But it would be wonderful to have a nearly-sister again to share the special day with.
“Okay boy, steady up now Red, thatta boy.” Bianca talked softly to the horse as she eased back on the reins, sitting deeper in the saddle, gradually slowing the horse, preparing to bring the workout to an end. She leaned forward and patted the sleek neck, now shiny with sweat. “Good boy,” she crooned. “Easy now boy.” Like always, the big horse fought her at first, but soon responded to her voice and gentle touch on the reins, slowing his gallop to a canter, then a trot, then a walk. He tossed his head lightly. Forgetting his manners he jerked his head forward, nearly unseating her, letting her know that he wanted to run. Bianca laughed, rubbing his neck again. “I know boy, I know, running’s fun. But we gotta go back now you know. It’s Christmas! You need some time off.” She stretched in the saddle, trying to work the kinks out of her neck. “So do I.”
She looked across at the track rider next to her. Bruce had completely ignored Jen when she’d first started working there, but like everyone else, he’d soon come around. Jen’s liveliness was infectious.
“You doing anything special for Christmas Bruce?” she asked him, as they walked the horses back to the stables.
He shook his head. “Nah. Just the usual. You know, family stuff.”
“But you’ll be here for the staff Christmas party, right?”
“Staff Christmas party?” Bruce sounded confused. “We get given a nice Christmas hamper, but we’ve never had a party. Not that I know of, anyway.”
“It’s happening,” Bianca winked. “Spread the word.”
Bianca smiled. She’d have to talk to Jen. They’d give the staff a Christmas party to remember—a naughty Christmas party!
The big horse stood like a lamb
as she took off the saddle and hosed him down. Aside from Bruce, the stables were deserted, the rest of the staff having completed the tasks and gone home. She leaned against the barn wall for a moment and closed her eyes briefly, enjoying the sun, trying to ignore the pang in her heart. How was she going to get through yet another Christmas without Annie?
LOOKING UP, BIANCA scanned the length of the barn, mentally calculating the distance between the posts she wanted to string outdoor fairy lights from. She couldn’t wait to see the barn all lit up in Christmas lights, it was sure to get everyone in the festive mood.
As a kid, she’d loved Christmas. Back in the early days, when her mum had still been around, they’d had a huge tree they would spend all day decorating with candy canes, tinsel, and sparkly ornaments; they would bake gingerbread men to hang from the boughs, and on Christmas Eve they would always leave out a beer for Santa, and a carrot for his reindeer. In the morning, finding Santa’s handwritten note propped up against the empty beer glass, and shredded remnants of carrot on the front lawn, was almost as exciting as opening the presents! And later, after her mother had gone and it had just been her, Annie, and their father, Christmas had still been fun. They’d always stayed up till well past midnight, giggling together, trying to guess what was inside the brightly wrapped parcels under the tree. But once Annie had gotten sick, Christmas hadn’t been fun anymore. Instead, what had always been a happy occasion had been filled with sadness. Annie’s illness had totally consumed them, sucking all the joy out of life, and making her hate the holiday season.
She swallowed. It was about time she found joy in Christmas again, and now that Clay had agreed to join in the fun and be Santa Claus, maybe she would be able to smile again on the holiday that had always meant so much to her and Annie.
Thinking of Clay, she smiled happily. She couldn’t wait to see him in the Santa suit! His muscular body would look spectacular outlined in red velvet and his shaggy blonde hair would look good under the red and white hat. And his spanking threat... what would be a better Christmas present than a playful spanking delivered by a sexy Santa? Her bottom clenched involuntarily at the thought of Clay’s heavy hand landing on it, then his strong fingers rubbing out the sting his slaps had imparted. Her pulse raced at the thought of her dominant daddy taking charge of her body once again.
Hooking the string of lights over the head of the broom, she stood on her tiptoes and stretched up as high as she could reach, wanting to hook the lights over the bit of guttering that stuck out over the edge of the building. She wanted to string fairy lights across the length of the front of the barn, hopeful that the little twinkling bulbs would put a smile on people’s faces. It wasn’t just the Lewis family, who owned the stables, or the staff who worked there, who would see the lights, but the Christmas decorations would be the first thing visitors to the stable would see, as well. The horse owners were known to turn up at all hours of the day, often without warning, and she wanted the festive season to work its magic on them, too. It was usually Luke’s job as Racing Manager to deal with the racehorse owners, both here at the stables and at the races, but sometimes Clay, in his capacity as Stable Foreman, also had the honours. And sometimes, the owners were difficult to deal with, and Clay ended up grumpy. She never liked it when her daddy was grumpy.
Holding the broom at the very tip of the handle, she extended the shaking lights toward the eaves, reaching up as high as she could... but it was no good. She was just too short. Damn! She’d have to find something to stand on. There was no way she was going to reach, otherwise.
As she hauled a bale of hay out of the hay barn to use as a make-shift stepladder she cursed the genes that had made her so short. What advantages were there to being short, really? Other than not having to worry about her weight as a jockey, being short was frustrating!
Even standing on the hay bale, on tiptoe, with the broom way outstretched, she still couldn’t reach to hook the lights over the eaves.
“Damn!” she yelled the curse word this time, instead of merely thinking it, and threw the broom down to the ground in disgust. She could feel a tic building in pressure behind her eyes and in her jaw; her Tourette’s was always bad at this time of year. She couldn’t even race at the moment—the pressure of the racetrack was just too much for her right now. She still got her speed fix by galloping horses on the track in the mornings, during training, but until the Boxing Day races where she’d ride Rose, she was having a break from racing. Until her tics calmed down, cheering her best friend Jen on from the side-lines was the closest she was getting to a race at the moment.
As soon as her feet hit the ground she let the tic erupt out of her violently, causing her face to screw up, her mouth to open wide to the point of cracking her jaw, and simultaneously twisting her neck sharply. It hurt, but she felt immediate relief once she’d got the tic out of her system. Rubbing her neck absently, she studied the height of the barn again. And smiled.
It took quite a bit of effort to stand the hay bale up on its end, and when it was upright, it reached her chest. How the heck was she going to get on? It would work though, she knew it would, if only she could get herself on top of it!
Eyeing up the top of the hay bale she took a few steps backwards to use as a run-up and launched herself upwards, using her hands to propel her, and vaulted on to the end of the upright hay bale. It wobbled scarily, coming close to toppling over when she clambered to her feet. Holding her breath, she stood still, balancing precariously on the wobbly bale while she waited for the shaking to slow, grateful for the agility years of riding horses had given her. Gingerly, she hooked the lights over the very edge of the broom again, and reached up.
“Nearly there,” she murmured. “Just a little bit more.” A tic was building up inside her again and she forced it away; she had to get these lights up first. It was a lot harder than she’d thought it would be, suppressing a tic while standing on the top of an upright hay bale, waving a top-heavy yard broom with a string of lights hooked over it, at the eaves of the barn. The edge of the guttering where the lights were to go was just about within reach but she couldn’t hold back the tic any longer, the pressure was too much.
“Aaaaargh!” The scream that built up in the back of her throat was high-pitched in surprise, as the hay bale tottered dangerously, leaning right over, then righted itself as she shifted her weight. A shudder ran through her at the impact of the hay bale coming into full contact with the ground again, and her wobbly legs made the hay shake beneath her. She should have known her tics would play havoc with her balance. How the hell was she going to do this?
She could picture in her mind how awesome the barn would look, with Christmas lights strung along the front of it. Even the most anti-Christmas staff members wouldn’t be able to help but get into the festive spirit once she and Jen had finished decorating! She probably should have waited for Jen to help her do this job, but there was so much to do in a few short days, and Jen would be away racing for most of them.
Making sure the string of lights was still securely over the head of the broom, she reached out again, easily touching the overhanging guttering. Twisting the broom slightly, she manoeuvred the lights over the sticking out guttering then pushed them backwards enough so the wind wouldn’t catch them so easily and rip them off.
“Yes! Got it!” She threw the broom down triumphantly now that one end of the lights was in place, then, powerless to stop it, she felt herself tic. The hay bale shook beneath her, rocking her violently from side to side as her movements threatened to topple it. Her arms windmilled madly as she flew backwards, letting out a shriek, before she slammed against a solid mass. The solid mass engulfed her, wrapping itself tightly around her, pulling her backwards against his chest.
Clay. She’d know the feel of him, anywhere. And his smell was unlike anyone else. Even if she couldn’t see him, the smell of horses, molasses and saddlesoap was engrained so deeply within him she doubted it would ever leave him, and mixed with his deodorant, com
bined to make a slightly spicy, musky scent that was uniquely him. She breathed him in, taking comfort in the strong arms that wrapped around her body, lowering her slowly to the ground.
Sheepish, she looked up into the frowning face of her daddy, and gulped. His shaggy blonde hair flopped over his forehead nearly to his eyes, but there was no mistaking the firm set to his jaw or the stern expression on his face. Her insides somersaulted. He steadied her until she was safely on her feet, then he took her hand, his fist enclosing around hers. She swallowed. When he took her hand like that, holding her so firmly in such a no-nonsense manner, it was never good. She wanted to pull away, to run, but she knew it wouldn’t help. Clay was far stronger than her, for starters. Perhaps sensing her thoughts, Clay took her chin in his other hand and stared down at her, the love shining clearly in his eyes softening his stern expression.
“Don’t even think about running away, little girl,” he growled, his deep voice sending shivers down her spine.
She hopped from one foot to the other, his direct gaze piercing her, making her uncomfortable, like a naughty little girl.
“What you just did was very dangerous. What were you thinking, standing a hay bale on its end like that, and climbing up on it? It was so unstable I’m surprised you were able to stand on it long enough to string the lights!” He gave her a gentle shake. “I promised your sister that I would take care of you, and every day I do my best to do that. But when you make silly choices, such as climbing on unstable hay bales instead of using a ladder, it makes it very difficult for me to honour that promise.”
Bianca bit her lip and looked down, avoiding his gaze, but his hand under her chin tilted her face up to his again. Passion was burning brightly in his eyes.
