A Festive Feud (Strawberry Hollow, #2)

by Maren Moore

Santa, I’m in love with a criminal

I love Christmas almost as much as I loathe Jackson Pearce. That’s saying a lot since Christmas is magical.

“Emmie,”

Even I can’t deny that the man is unfairly attractive. Even if I want to hit him with my car.

How dare he be so attractive and yet the most annoying man to ever walk the planet.

“It’s Emma,”

“I hate that you call me that.”

“I k...

“Why do you think I do it?”

But the real reason that Jackson Pearce and I hate each other has everything to do with the fact that our families have been enemies for decades. The Pearces vs the Worthingtons.

That fucking asshole actually put me in jail.

But then again, when have I ever not noticed Emma Worthington? She’s impossible not to notice. Even if she’s my enemy by birthright.

She’s more than beautiful. She’s the kind of beautiful that sucks out all the air in a room the moment she enters.

Fuck, I hate that I’m attracted to her. She’s the last person I should ever want, yet… I can’t help that I do. Not that I’d ever be admitting that out loud to anyone. Nah, that shit is staying locked away in my brain safely where the ice princess can’t wield my weakness as a weapon against me. That is absolutely something she would do.

So of course, the first year we’re responsible for throwing the damn party, we end up in jail over a fucking nutcracker.

If my family wasn’t so invested, I wouldn’t give a shit about any of it. But I have to admit, I love messing with Emma Worthington, to drive her as crazy as she does me. I want to push every button she has just to get a rise out of her.

I’ve always liked this… game between the two of us. This delicious tension that makes my dick hard. She just thinks it has to do with our families hating each other. But the truth is, I don’t actually hate Emma Worthington. I just want to shove my cock between her lips to shut her up.

Call it what you want, but I think she just might want me to kiss her as badly as I want to kiss her right now.

That means another eight hours of pretending that I didn’t almost kiss Emma Worthington and another eight hours of pretending that I still don’t want to.

“I’ve slept in worse places. Princess here, well, you know, she barely survived and probably wouldn’t have if not for my gentlemanly ways. And they say chivalry is dead.”

But… I also don’t know how it’s physically possible for me to be around this man for longer than thirty seconds without wanting to rip his clothes off while simultaneously wanting to punch him right in his smug face.

Maybe this thing won’t be so bad after all, especially if I can make her blush like that again. Only next time… maybe it’ll be with my tongue.

I’m usually more of a clean-cut, suit-and-tie kind of girl, but there’s something deliciously enticing about him. Something dangerous and rough. Something I find myself wanting.

Every single time she opens her mouth to be a little brat, I want to put her on her knees and fill it.

Fuck, as much as I pretend to hate this girl, I want her. Badly.

“This is exactly why we should, Snowflake.”

There are only a few things in life that I believe would truly bring me to my knees, and I know without a doubt that this is one of them. Emma Worthington is one of them.

“If I’ve only got one night with you, Emma, I’m taking every fucking second of it,” I say, tracing my tongue along her nipple. “Don’t rush me. Let me look at you.”

Fuck, I want to taste her. I want her to soak my face until I’m drenched in her.

My tongue sweeps across the lace, and she gasps as I tear it from her body in a single rough pull.

“Jack...

“Those were exp...

“Don’t care. Take my card and buy a thousand ...

“Come, Emma. On my tongue,”

“Soak my face, Snowflake.”

The sight of her freshly orgasmed is almost as sexy as the creamy skin of her inner thighs, which are now scratched and red from my beard brushing against them as I ate her pussy. As she practically rode my face. It causes something primal to stir inside of me, an unfamiliar feeling of possessiveness rising to the surface. I want to mark her everywhere. Not just her thighs. Her ass, her pussy. I want to paint her with my cum.

“I want you.”

“Feeling’s mutual,”

“Fuck. Emma, a condom.”

“I’m on birth control, and I was just tested. I want to feel you bare,” she breathes, sinking down an inch further. “If… you want.”

There’s nothing in this fucking world I want more than pumping her full of my cum, to feel her wet pussy clamping down on my cock as she comes.

“Same,” I grunt and grab her hips, thrusting into her and burying myself to the hilt all at once.

“God… Jackson, I’m so full,” she pants, rocking her hips back and forth so her clit brushes against the base of me....

“You’re definitely on the naughty list,”

“I need you to stop talking and fuck me, Jackson Pearce.”

“Come, Emma,”

“I- I…”

I pinch her clit between my fingers, and her orgasm sweeps through her violently, her back bowing and her legs clamping around my hips as she writhes. A second later, I follow, arousal snaking down my spine. I rock my hips into her slower, delving deep as I let go, coming inside of her in hot spurts. A deep groan sounds from my chest, and my hands grasp tightly on to her waist as the aftershocks of her orgasm rock through her. “Holy shit,” she mumbles, glancing up at me with darkened pupils and flushed cheeks. This was dirty, and rough, and hot as fuck. And suddenly, I find myself wishing it was for more than the one night we promised.

Apparently, my vagina is a ho ho ho for this man, which is very, very problematic.

“Don’t worry, Snowflake. You’ll be begging me for my cock again soon.”