by Logan Chance
“So, next up, we have Zoe Walters here with her Serendipity Soap collection. I just love these soaps.” She turns to face me.
“Thank you, Hope,” I say, not really sure where the words are coming from, but somehow, I launch into a little memorized promo spiel about my soaps.
“Let’s go show everyone what you’ve made.”
We stand and move over to a display table with a variety of my products. Hope picks up the peppermint bar shaped like a heart. “This is great for a Valentine’s Day gift. It not only moisturizes, but it also leaves the skin feeling supple and smooth.”
“That’s right. These soaps are designed with that sensitive winter skin in mind.”
“Be sure to grab these soaps,” she speaks to the viewers at home with a toothy grin, “they’re currently flying out the door.”
“We should shut that darn door, Hope,” I say, giving her a wink.
She smiles back. “We have a caller on the line. Let’s see what they have to say.”
“Hi, this is for Zoe,” the caller says. The familiar timbre of the voice on the line sends chills all over my skin. “I’ve used the soap and I have to say,” he chuckles softly, “it kind of turns me on.”
Unable to believe Graham would call, I stand statue still, blinking wildly like everything is ok. Hope intervenes as quickly as possible. “Well, thank you for calling.”
“Wait,” Graham’s voice calls through the speaker, “Zoe, I want to talk to you.”
Hope glances nervously at me, and the cameraman talks rapidly into his headset. I still have my smile plastered on my face, trying my best to remain calm, but my heart is galloping a million miles a minute. Say that three times fast.
“Graham,” my smile slides off my face as I stare into the camera, hoping Trudy doesn’t see any of this, “it’s probably not a good idea for you to call in?” I need to end this call, stat.
The Christmas music lightly playing in the background comes to an abrupt halt. I’m not even sure if the camera is even still filming at this point, and I no longer care. All I care about is the man on the other end of the phone line.
“Zoe, I’ve missed you. And not the ‘hey, I haven’t seen you in a while’ type of miss you. But, more of the ‘I need you here right now’ type of miss you.”
My heart aches, my eyes misting over with unshed tears, and I can’t do anything but tell him the truth, “I’ve missed you too.”
“I have something for you.”
I stare into the camera, because I’m not sure where to look at this point. All I want more than anything is to see Graham. Just this one time. “Ok.”
“Come outside.”
I look over at Hope. “Well go, honey,” she urges.
“Oh ok, right.” In a rush, I remove the microphone pack from around my waist, set it on the table with my soaps, and exit the set. I grab my coat and then rush out the back door. When I step outside, the wind blows the last of the snowfall around from last night. And then I see him. Graham, in all his glory, standing next to a one-horse open sleigh.
“Graham, what are you thinking? What if Trudy sees that or someone tells her?”
“What are you talking about? Why would I care if Trudy sees that? She can fuck off.” He moves closer. “I wanted to call you so many times,” he whispers.
“I wanted you to. But, I don’t want you to lose the resort.”
“What? How would I lose the resort?”
I tell him everything Trudy told me about the marriage, and her father taking over if their wedding didn’t happen. I tell him how I just wouldn’t be able to live with myself if he lost his resort.
He laughs. “Yeah, well that shit is just not true.”
“No part of it is?” I ask unable to believe she’d be so manipulative.
“None of it.” He kisses my cheek. “He isn’t even on the board.” Then he kisses my other cheek.
“I could’ve never seen you again…” my words fail me.
“You should have asked me.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “It’s ok. I forgive you.” He gives me a sexy smirk. “But, this means you more than care about me.”
“Was it you who got me the deal here?” I ask, stepping closer to him, trying my best to read his eyes.
The cold wind can’t put out the heat between the two of us. He steps closer, his arms wrapping around my waist. “You got that on your own. I was telling the truth, your soaps turn me on.”
Even though I know it’s selfish, I can’t help myself. “Are you turned on right now?”
He leans in. “Very turned on.”
Wanting to feel him again, I wrap my arms around his neck. “We should take care of that.”
He smiles against my lips. “We really should.”
He helps me into the sleigh and nestles me under a faux fur blanket with him. The horse trots off through a small park filled with snow as we sit cuddled in the back. The driver steers the sled around, and I smile up at Graham.
I pull back, gazing into his chocolate eyes.
I kiss his lips, his nose, his cheeks, his lips again, and then lean back. “I do more than care about you.”
A light snow falls all around us and Graham gathers me in his arms, holding me close.
“See isn’t this fun?”
“Yeah, it kind of is.” I rest my head on his chest and can hear his heart beating faster. “You were right, baby. I just wasn’t with the right person.”
He’s so perfect. I’m going to love dating this man.
And I’m going to make sure he loves dating me too.
THE END
GRAHAM BONUS
Chapter One
Zoe
What do you get the man who has everything for Christmas? Graham, billionaire mogul and sex god, literally has anything he could ever want. The man owns a shopping network for Christmas’ sake. The twelve day countdown is on, and I’m still presentless. This is unheard of for a Christmas savant like myself. The trees were decorated and the stockings hung with care on the enormous mantle in Graham’s home before Thanksgiving was even finished. Why wait?
I’m not one to crumble under the pressure of a challenge, though, and I’ve finally found something he definitely doesn’t have.
“York, I need a favor,” I whisper as soon as Graham’s cousin answers the phone.
“Why are you whispering, Zoe?”
I glance over my shoulder to check I’m still alone. “Congratulations on the hockey title,” I say before I dive into what I need.
“Thanks, but again, why are you whispering? Is something wrong?”
“I need help with Graham’s present.”
“Ah, and what is that?”
To ensure this remains top secret, I move further into the bedroom at Graham’s mother's home, where we’re spending a few days of the holidays, and step into the closet. “A baby goat.”
His laugh fills my ear. “Wait. A living breathing goat?”
“Yes.” I don’t tell him how Graham thinks baby goats are adorable, nor how he watches YouTube videos of fainting goats, because I feel like that would be breaching the unspoken boyfriend/girlfriend confidentiality agreement. “I need your help getting it.”
I’ve already been in contact with The Mountain Goat Resort and a heated barn with ample enclosure is already in the works. And who knows, maybe friends will be added.
“I’m all in,” York says, with a smile in his voice. “I’ll be there tonight.”
“Perfect. Don’t forget your ugly sweater for the party.”
“Never,” he says.
“You should see the little sweater I bought for the baby goat. I’ll show you tonight.”
“Zoe,” Graham calls out.
“Gotta go,” I whisper. “Don’t tell a soul about this.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I won’t. Can’t wait to see his reaction.”
I disconnect the call and step from the closet. “Hey, babe. How was your meeting?”
It’s been a year and I still
get that dip in my belly, like I’m skiing down a snow-covered mountain at lightning speed, when I see him. His dark hair, full of fuckable Christmas magic, gleams under the lights as his tall body closes the distance between us.
“Hey. It was good. Sorry I’m having to deal with business.”
“It's ok.” I hone in on what he’s wearing. “Are those real?”
“Yeah.” Graham’s crooked grin is hot enough to toast the marshmallows dangling on his ugly sweater. “Check this…” He pushes a button and flames ignite in the fireplace on his chest.
I’m thoroughly impressed with his hideous creation of a Santa roasting marshmallows by a fire. Real marshmallows. Like everything he does in life, Graham went the extra mile. It’s hot. He’s hot. “Your creativity is such a turn on.”
He leans in for a sultry kiss that curls my toes. “I have something for you,” Graham tells me.
He produces a small black pouch from his jeans pocket.
“What is this?” I take the velvet bag from his fingers and peek inside. “It’s not Christmas yet,” I say as I pull a delicate silver chain out.
“Well, it’s the first day of Christmas.”
I study the charm. “Oh my god.” I look up at him. “Is this a partridge in a pear tree?”
“Yep,” is his smug answer. “Are you singing the song in that beautiful head of yours now?”
“Maybe.” I want to cry that this man loves me. He’s the ultimate gift—he got me a freaking partridge in a pear tree. And I have nothing for him. Well, actually, I do have something…
His family won’t be back for a few hours, and everything is ready for the ugly sweater party tonight, so I’m about to go all ho ho ho on my man.
I place my hand on his hard chest and push him back toward the bed. His dark eyes incinerate me as he sits.
“I was going to save this until tonight, but now is the right time.” I knee his legs apart and step between his muscular thighs. “Unwrap me, Graham.”
“Fuck, Zoe.” As if I’m encased in expensive paper he doesn’t want to ruin, his hands slowly dispose of my t-shirt and then slide my leggings down and off. My panties are next to go. “Beautiful,” he murmurs at my freshly waxed and vajazzled vagina. He traces a finger along the sparkling candy cane, followed quickly by his tongue.
My knees nearly buckle. “Bre told me at the salon it’s the best way to spread Christmas cheer.”
As soon as I speak the words, I’m flipped around and on the soft comforter with Graham hovering over me.
He sucks each nipple in his warm mouth before moving down my body in a flurry of kisses. “Oh, baby, I’m definitely going to spread you.” He opens my legs. “And lick you.” His tongue takes a swipe through my wetness. “Mm. And suck you.” He toys with my clit and does that nipping thing with his teeth I love so much. My back arches off the bed, and I moan as he works my pussy with expertise. To give him better access to his present, I plant my feet on his broad shoulders.
Really, it’s hard to decipher who is getting the gift here. With Graham feasting on me like I’m plum pudding and his tongue is the spoon, I think it’s me. I need to give back. Before I can, he inserts two fingers and white hot heat ignites low in my stomach and spreads until I’m coming all over his gorgeous face.
“God, I love to hear you come,” he rasps out.
He licks the candy cane again. It really is the most wonderful time of year.
Chapter 2
Graham
I still don’t care for Christmas. But I do care about Zoe. This past year with her is worth the array of atrocious sweaters surrounding me. None of them can hold a candle to mine, though.
“Having fun?” Zoe asks. Even in her fuzzy green sweater, decorated with god awful soap ornaments, she looks stunning.
“Loads,” I tell her.
Her blue eyes narrow on me over the rim of her eggnog glass. “Admit it, Mr. Grinch. You love it.”
“I’ll give it to you, this ugly sweater party is pretty damn funny.” I steal a kiss from her ruby lips as we wait in line to have our picture taken before the tapestry draped on the wall that reads “The Uglier The Better.”
If the ghost of Ebenezer Scrooge himself would have told me a year ago that I’d be holding a giant candy cane while wearing a sweater with fucking marshmallows on it, I would have laughed in his pasty face. But here I am. It’s ok, though. Not many can rock this ensemble like I can.
Zoe blushes when I look at the candy cane and then down to the sweet spot between her thighs. And just like that, my dick hardens. It’s a hazard of being within twenty feet of her.
After picture taking, Zoe is swept away to deal with hostess duties so I check in with the Mountain Goat Resort to make sure everything is ready for our stay. Then I check email. Vacation is never really vacation. There’s always work to do. Thankfully, Zoe is very understanding.
“Can you grab some sparkling water from the kitchen?” my mother, draped head to toe in gold tinsel, asks.
I slide my phone in my jeans. “What have you become?” I ask with unbridled amusement.
“Says the guy wearing marshmallows,” she retorts, with a smile. “Love looks good on you.”
I laugh. She knows she’s said the words to send me off like a rocket to retrieve her request. “I’ll be right back.”
I pivot on my heel and walk away before she can say anything else. It’s not that I mind discussing my feelings for Zoe, I just don’t want to field all the questions I know are coming. Marriage. Babies. Forever.
I’m not opposed to any of that, but I’m still enjoying the dating phase with Zoe. I want to savor each part of the journey—things like candy canes on a bare pussy—and my mother wants to express mail us to the end. It already seems like time is moving at warp speed with Zoe. I’m forever wanting to slow it down, so the seconds tick by at an excruciatingly slow pace. So this sublime feeling of freefalling never ends. Besides, Zoe is busy becoming a soap mogul and who says she wants to get married? Hm. Would she marry me? We haven’t had that discussion. She loves me, but does she love me like that?
Speaking of...my little vixen has disappeared from her party.
As I weave through the chattering guests in the living room, there’s no sign of Zoe’s dark tresses under the twinkling lights. I want to steal her away for an impromptu fondling, put my dick in her box, but she’s nowhere to be found. Probably because she’s tucked in a corner...next to the refrigerator...amidst a bustle of workers...whispering with York.
She’s oblivious to my entrance, and I’m a little offended she’s so wrapped up in her conversation with York that she didn’t feel me enter the room. Isn’t that cheesy shit supposed to happen? I’ll admit, there is an ugly insecure part to love that rears it’s demonic horns at times like these. York’s dark head is bowed down toward hers and the carrot protruding out of his ugly ass sweater pokes her breast. Twice. Instead of yanking it off and slapping him over the head with it, she continues talking to him in an animated frenzy, the golden star atop her head bobbing.
I amble closer, still undetected, and stop cold when she pulls what looks like a baby sweater from one of the wrapped presents dangling from the bottom of her cardigan. He shakes his head and grins.
And I may faint.
Zoe is pregnant?
Chapter 3
Zoe
“How are you feeling?” Graham asks for the millionth time as we leave the French restaurant where we dined on an extravagant dinner of roasted hen. Yes, he ordered three. I’m flabbergasted at the thought he’s put into this. Yesterday, he gifted me a bracelet with two diamond turtle doves. For someone opposed to Christmas, he deserves an award. Maybe I do too, because my return gift to him was my ass. TMI?
“I’m fine,” I assure him. “Why do you keep asking that?”
He takes my elbow and leads me to his Range Rover across the parking lot. Although the pavement has been plowed from the recent snowfall, small slushy spots remain. He navigates me around them as if I�
��m made of porcelain.
“Careful,” he warns as I sidestep an icy patch. “Want me to carry you?”
I laugh. “Um, that’s very chivalrous of you, but I think I can manage to walk.”
His brow creases and his dark eyes bore into mine. “You’d tell me if you were feeling sick?”
“Sick? I mean, I’m stuffed, but I don’t feel sick.”
I didn’t eat that much. I’m not shy about eating, and I certainly wouldn’t let a good meal go to waste, so yes, I had two hens. But honestly, the portions were tiny, so it’s really like I only ate one. He nods, and opens my door.
As we pull away from The Chateau, I reach over and palm his cock through his black slacks. “So,” I coo to his stubbled profile, “that was very romantic. I’d like to show my appreciation with a little surprise when we get back.”
“Oh, damn.” His head whips to me. “You feel ok to do that?”
“Mhm. Better than ok.”
His cock stiffens beneath my caresses. When I lick my lips, he lets out a nipple-hardening hiss. Even his sounds are sexy.
The passing car lights illuminate his chiseled face as he glances over at me. “You’re irresistible. Do you know that?”
“You’re amazing. Do you know that?”
“Maybe,” he jokes. Traffic is minimal on the ride back and it seems like only a few minutes before we are pulling in the drive of his parents' home. We hustle past the snow laden shrubbery and indoors. His family is still out at a showing of The Nutcracker, so we fly up the staircase to our room where I’m about to give true meaning to it’s namesake, Vixen.
“I need you to shower or something so I can get ready.”
“Fuck. This is something you have to prepare for?” He locks the door and kicks off his shoes, followed by his clothes, until he’s completely nude, already erect.
I nod, tempted to just skip the surprise and impale myself on his thick cock.
“Don’t peek,” I tell him as he strides across the spacious room into the bathroom.
