12 Naughty Days of Christmas: Volume Four

by Piper Stone

  “Cup me, Tira,” he hissed, and she used one hand to gently tickle him, knowing that a light touch was what he preferred, razing her fingernails slightly over that wrinkled flesh.

  He didn’t last long, and she prided herself on that, although she knew that he was a bit chagrinned by it. Minutes later, his hands tightened on her and she felt streams of him sliding easily down her throat as she continued to minister to him until he removed himself from her mouth. After, she cleaned her lips delicately with her fingers, being sure to lick them clean, which always made his eyes flare again with desire, especially when she did the same thing to him.

  Still pulsing, he rearranged himself, and then said, “Now we need to see about you. I have a bit of a challenge for you, my dear. Take your clothes off, and kneel on the sofa, facing away from me.”

  Tira did exactly as she was told, which made him grin. She could be quite obedient with the right motivation.

  He got what he needed, putting her brand new Christmas present down next to her on the cushion, her plaintive mewl accomplishing the impossible and making him hard again. He wasn’t a spring chicken, and that shouldn’t have happened, but he had come to expect the unexpected of his body with her. But this wasn’t for him, this was for her.

  He was going to make her see stars.

  For a long moment, though, all he did was stand there and admire her. Baz knew that she didn’t think she was very pretty. Unless it was a special occasion or she was going to work, she dressed like a homeless person, not that he minded in the least. He knew what was under there.

  But she was a subtly classic beauty, and her body was perfectly formed, if wonderfully small. She had strawberry blonde hair that was neither too long nor too short, but fell just right around a somewhat pale face. But that just meant that it was easier for him to tell when she was blushing. She had somehow escaped the usual outcroppings of freckles that most redheads had, her skin clear and unblemished, nose relatively narrow and lips a beckoning pale pink. Her eyelashes were red, too, and thus almost invisible – she was always threatening that she was going to steal his. Her eyebrows were the same pale color but they were nicely, naturally shaped.

  Her breasts were ample but not too overly so – just about right to fill his hands with. Her waist was small, belly mostly flat, and hips nicely flared. As he looked at the sweeping, creamy white line of her flawless back and legs, the dreadful condition of her backside stood out very nicely, right in the middle, and he felt his mouth literally water at the sight.

  Right then and there, he bent himself over her, extending himself entirely such that he could nip at the back of her neck, making her breath catch audibly and shiver, especially when he pressed himself against her cleft.

  “Ready to scream on Christmas Eve, angel?” he asked, playfully nibbling on her ear lobe.

  “Holy crap, no pun intended, Baz! You’re not going to spank me again with that thing, are you?” she asked.

  He kissed her shoulder. “Do you trust me, baby girl?”

  The way she didn’t hesitate in saying “yes”, despite how her bum must’ve been feeling, made his heart ache.

  “Good girl.”

  He was as good as his word.

  She saw stars, and she screamed. Both. Repeatedly.

  That horrid wooden implement did rise and fall against her bottom, but at a slower, much more calculated rate than it had before. And this time, he twisted himself into enough of a pretzel – the man was nothing if not flexible – that he managed to insinuate his head up between her legs. She remembered all of a sudden that she’d once wondered, not long after she’d met him, how his stubble would feel when it brushed against her intimately. The answer was that it depended on how he moved it. It could be smooth and silky at times, but sometimes it felt spiky and made her want to reach down and rub away the slight irritation, although she knew better than to do that. Then she thought that he’d know it bothered her, and was quite likely to do it more, rather than less.

  His hot, eager mouth provided a very potent counterpoint to the sharp smacks he was still delivering. At first quite occasionally, and then – as her fever built – more often, expertly keeping her on that edge by listening to her helpless pleas and guttural moans. Keeping her where she wasn’t sure whether it was the pain or the pleasure that was too much. Until, inevitably, something in her gave way in a wild flood of sensation, and she exploded and imploded at the same time.

  He’d never seen anything quite like her utterly unguarded response. It was fascinating, so pure and yet so crude at the same time. He knew that he would never tire of doing that to her. Tira was crying and growling, begging him not to stop, yet trying to lurch away from him at the same time. Baz felt at once honored to witness it – that she’d given that to him – but driven to want to soothe her too.

  Although, his wicked side came through and he didn’t give in to that tender impulse.

  When there was no more in her, no more to her, he picked her up and set her down in the middle of the warm bed he’d made on the floor, wrapping her up in all of the blankets that were available because he was more than warm enough, and simply holding her very tight, watching over her diligently, encouraging her just to relax and go to sleep, if she wanted to.

  Every time Baz tried to move even the slightest bit – not that he was really trying to go anywhere, he was just adjusting things as best he could for her comfort – she grabbed at him in a blind panic. So he stopped moving entirely, instead curling his big body around her, being still and merely there.

  His phone trilled for a second, and he leaned down to kiss her cheek, knowing she was still awake because she was still clutching his arm in a death grip.

  “Do we have cell service all of a sudden?”

  He had to grin at that. She was half dead with reaction to what he’d just done to her, and yet she forced herself to perk up enough to ask about the possibility that she might be able to use her phone.

  “I’m sorry to say, but no.”

  She pouted prettily and snuggled back down against him.

  “It was my alarm.” Baz pressed his lips to her cheek gently, murmuring, “Merry Christmas, my love. I know it’s not quite what you’d planned, but I’m very much liking having you all to myself.”

  She gave him a small smile, saying softly, “Merry Christmas, Baz, and so am I,” hugging him as hard as he squeezed her to him.

  The next day, they spent most of their time in bed, where it was warmest. He was careful to keep the fire well stoked, always asking her if she was comfortable. He did not let her help him when he went out to get wood, even though she met him at the door when he came in with an armload the first time, wanting to take it from him so that he could go back and get more.

  “No,” he said sternly as she stood there with her arms out. “Go sit on the bed.”

  Tira frowned at him, for just a second, opening her mouth to take him to task, he was sure, but then she thought better of it and flumped onto the bed, obviously not happy about his edict.

  He ended up almost next to her as he filled the firewood rack, hearing her huffing in annoyance behind him. Without turning back to her, he said casually, “Not that I feel the need to explain to you my decisions in regards to you, I can understand that you’re upset, and I appreciate that you want to help. I do. But you’re not dressed for it—”

  “Coulda put my coat on,” she muttered. “And gloves,” she added, anticipating the objection he was going to come up with next.

  Then he did turn around, giving her a sharp look, which had her instantly lowering her eyes to where her hands were fidgeting with the blanket’s edge.

  When he was done, he came to stand above her, their already considerable height difference only accentuated by the fact that she was sitting on the floor, essentially, and he was standing at his full height of six foot four. Even just in jeans, a tee shirt and his coat, he looked like a conquering hero and she looked like a recalcitrant little slave, kneeling in reluctant s
upplication at his feet.

  Then Baz reached down and caught her chin in his fingers, tilting it up so that her eyes met his. “Your winter coat isn’t much of one and wouldn’t have been enough protection against the cold weather or the snow that’s on the wood. You couldn’t have held the whole load anyway, and that would have meant that I still would have had to make the trip inside. It’s more efficient for me to just do it.” His expression hardened a little. “Besides, who makes your rules?”

  She pursed her lips together tightly, but the tone of her answer had none of the sass that he expected. “You do.”

  “And what do I expect you to do?”

  That got him a short, grumpy growl. “Obey them.”

  “Damn straight, little miss. You don’t want your Christmas spanking to be any worse than it needs to, do you?”

  Her eyes flew to his in alarm. “My what? My butt’s still on fire from that damned present – and I use the term very loosely – you gave me, and used on me last night!”

  “Mmm, I like that idea. Is it really?” He leaned down and pulled her up onto her knees at the same time, slipping his hand down to curve over her bum and under her clothes. Her startled yelp had less to do with the fact that her bottom was definitely still suffering from last night and more to do with how cold his hand was against her warm skin.

  Tira instantly recognized that as another of his “damned if she did, damned if she didn’t” questions. “I’m taking the fifth in self defense!”

  He chuckled at that. “Well, we must uphold Christmas tradition.”

  “There’s no such thing as a Christmas Spanking,” came her staunch reply.

  “There’s going to be for you, starting with this one,” he warned, kissing the breath out of her before straightening back up, and heading out to get more wood.

  This time, she stayed put, gazing out the window at the maelstrom that was swirling around them. It was quite pretty, when viewed from their cozy little nest. She had seen, when she peeped out the door, that their car was already just an indefinable snow covered white lump. She wondered if it would ever stop snowing.

  When he finally got back, after shaking the snow off himself outside, she’d noticed, he didn’t return right to her, but spent some time in the kitchen, puttering around.

  Eventually, she heard him exclaim, “Yes!”

  “Yes, what?”

  “Never you mind. You just stay right where you are and try not to get into trouble.” Then he looked up and winked at her salaciously.

  Tira gave him a hearty raspberry in return.

  A few minutes later, she would have sworn she could smell ham cooking, and thought she was pretty sure she had to be hallucinating, or she’d had too much whiskey.

  “What, exactly, are you doing over there, pray tell? Do we actually have power and you’re just making me live like this for the fun of it?”

  There was a slight pause before he replied. “Silly girl. I forgot when we got here to check and see whether it’s a gas stove, and it is! We can have hot food, and I’m going to make us a Christmas feast.”

  “Want help?”

  “No. I already told you what you should be doing, which was?”

  Tira sighed. “Staying here and not getting into trouble.”

  “Good girl on that so far.”

  Another enthusiastic raspberry wafted to his ears as she flipped open a magazine she’d found from five years ago.

  Not very much later, he began transporting wonderful things to the bed, using the coffee table that was behind them as a staging area. When he was finished, he bowed to her with a flourish of his arm. “There you are, madam. An actual Christmas Dinner, complete with ham – a canned one I found in the cupboard, canned green beans – not quite green bean casserole, but I never did like that crap anyway, and boxed stuffing – that’s surprisingly okay, if way salty. We have the very expensive bottle of wine that I was going to give to Dan, but we are in extremis and in order to complete our celebration, we are procuring that from him. And, I know for a fact that you brought a ton of sweet stuff for everyone’s stockings as well as fruitcake and Christmas cookies, that we can have for dessert, then replace easily when we have our inevitable Christmas do over in a week or two, when everyone can get together.”

  Baz also played sommelier, uncorking the wine using an implement from his Swiss Army Knife, then pouring a little into the ubiquitous red Solo cup from the ones they’d brought. He even went through the whole process of sniffing the wine, then tasting it very carefully, while Tira alternately rolled her eyes and laughed at his mock pretentiousness.

  Although it probably wasn’t mock, really, she thought. He was no snob, but he regularly functioned in much higher social strata than she did, which was something that had hit her in the face when she’d tried to think of what to get him for Christmas.

  What did one get the man who either already had everything he wanted, or could easily buy it for himself if he did want it? Especially when said man had already told her, in no uncertain terms, that she was not to spend too much money on him, but refused to agree to be limited the same way himself.

  She had not been happy about that, but he had picked her up in his arms, bridal style – which he had a habit of doing quite frequently and she loved it – and held her there, lacing his fingers together on her hip.

  “Look. I don’t want this to become a thing between us. I admire your independence and I have no interest in curbing it. I’m glad that you want to make your own way in the world and not rely on me, which is another thing I like about you. But I won’t have you bankrupting yourself to buy me something for Christmas, Tira, when all I want in the world is right here.” He squeezed her tightly to him.

  She had caved, grudgingly, even after his beautiful speech – as if she had a choice in the matter.

  And she wasn’t at all sure about what she’d settled on either. It had been a source of anxiety for her ever since she’d realized just how hard finding something for him was going to be.

  “Tira? You okay? You’re far away from me, suddenly.”

  “I’m here,” she said distractedly, taking the cup of wine he offered and moving to take a sip of it, but he stopped her.

  “We have to toast. Shall I do the honors?”

  Since she could barely string two intelligent words together, especially compared to him, she nodded gratefully.

  “Here’s to our first wonderful Christmas together, holed up in a little country cabin while the world is blanketed in white, and may there be a lifetime’s more of them in our future.”

  Her eyes filled with tears as Tira clunked her glass against his. “Hear, hear!”

  It was a great meal, eaten while snuggled up against him, fed by his hand more often than not, until they were both too stuffed to move. “I’ll clean up in a second,” she said, patting her stomach, “when I’ve recovered from the food coma. My compliments to the chef. So smart to think about it being a propane stove rather than electric.”

  Was he blushing? That was a rarity. She definitely liked it though. Tira enjoyed any and all of his responses, as long as they didn’t lead to her getting spanked.

  “There’s not much to do besides a couple pans.”

  “Wow, a neat cook, too. I’m impressed.”

  “You ought to be. Even my mom couldn’t get me to clean as I went a long. It wasn’t until I had my first apartment and no one to clean up after me that I started to do that.”

  He was silent for a moment, and Tira hugged him. She didn’t want to bring him down, but she wanted to let him know what she was thinking as she put her arms around him. “I’m so sorry I didn’t get a chance to meet her.”

  “So am I, love.” He held her tight, rubbing his hand up and down the line of her back, and then kissing the top of her head. “So, is it present time yet?”

  He sounded like an eager little boy waiting for Santa to arrive.

  “All right,” Tira said, a little reluctantly.

  “G
ood, because I can’t wait for you to see what I got you!” he exclaimed happily, practically jumping up off the floor to head to where their bags and boxes of wrapped things were.

  Oh shit! That didn’t make her feel like she was under any pressure at all!

  Chapter 3

  When he returned, she noted that he was only carrying four boxes.

  She thought that was a good thing, and none of them were ginormous either. She had worried that he was going to buy her a new car, something else entirely too extravagant, since he was always teasing her about her jalopy, and worrying about its safety.

  Then those long legs folded neatly beneath him and he ended up in an elegant pile, sitting tailor fashioned in front of her.

  She took that as her cue and got up to get her stuff for him, which was three wrapped things and a stocking that could be turned inside out. It was an unusual design – a beautiful pin-striped pattern on one side, as if it was a suit, and the inside was soft, worn denim, but both sides had a fluffy white cuff at the top with his name embroidered in an old English font on the suit side, and Comic Sans on the other.

  He seemed delighted with it when she’d laid it in his lap. “Wow! I haven’t had a stocking since I was a kid!” Baz looked at the stocking itself carefully. “Is it reversible?”

  Tira smiled. “Yes. I wanted to make you something. I know you can buy anything you want, and that’s a horrible thing to know when you’re trying to figure out what to get someone.”

  “Tira,” he chided softly, with absolutely no bite in his tone.

  She shrugged. “So I designed and sewed this. It’s your two sides – business Baz and weekend Baz.” She shrugged again, feeling a bit flustered at the attention.

  “You sewed this yourself?” He looked incredulous.

  “Yeah. I like to sew, and embroider.”