My Favorite Holidate

by Lauren Blakely

Here’s another reason we could never work out—Fable is an inveterate bed hog. She’s a dragon hoarding her gold, amassing pillows and sheets and mattress square-footage. She’s cocooned in the blankets, lying on her stomach in the middle of the king-size bed, leaving me with a sliver of space.

fucking finally, I have the cure to my Fable addiction once and for all—she’s a bed thief, ergo we could never work. I like my bed the way I like it—neat, organized, with just enough blanket for me. This is great. Hallelujah and joy to the world!

My chest aches. A fire roars in me. “If you were mine, you’d be with me every night. If you were mine, I’d tell you how much I want you to stay over.” And fuck it. The sheet stealing is adorable after all because…of course it is. “If you were mine, I’d never care that you’re a bed hog.” She swallows, parts her lips, then says, “I’d try not to be a bed hog for you.”

My heart clutches. So much for my efforts to erect some distance between us. All I want is to get closer to her now. To feel what it would be like if she were mine. I really should try to go back to sleep, so I motion for a pillow.

That look in her eyes. So much for my restraint earlier. So much for holding back. Fuck it. Just fuck it all.

Her words. The plea on her lips. I can’t deny her.

“Do it, Fable. Thank me with those perfect lips.”

I can’t take it. Can’t stand how good this feels. How sexy she is. How much I want her. I can barely handle the way I’m strung tight in every goddamn cell. The desire to take her, throw her down and eat her, then finger her, then fuck her till she comes all over my cock overwhelms me.

I fight off the urge to say let me fuck you now, honey. Instead, I say in my most stern voice, “If you say please, I’ll fuck your throat.” She lifts her face, meets my gaze, then swirls that wicked tongue around the head one more time. “Please and thank you,” she whispers against my cock. Then, she drops down, and takes me all the way into her lush mouth.

“Yes, you’re so good at that. Look at you. Taking my dick all the way.”

“Where are my manners? I need to say I’m sorry for coming first.” I tap her hip, and in no time, she pushes off her pajamas. “Good,” I say. “Now sit on my face.” Her eyes widen like I’ve given her a Christmas gift. “Yes, sir.”

A minute later, she’s fucking my face till I can barely breathe, and I’m all too happy to be smothered in her pleasure. She comes hard, loud and beautifully, and I’m certain I’m already addicted to her.

I close my eyes and breathe her in. If she were mine, I’d never want her to leave.

Later, I wake to the sun streaming through the window, Fable clutching my arm to her chest, and the two of us together under the covers.

This feels too much like the family pancake breakfast I longed for. But I’d better not get used to this warm, happy feeling too much since it’ll end when the tree is thrown out.

Mac bobs a shoulder. “We’re both kind of brilliant.” Fable inclines her head Mac’s way. “Kind of? I would say we are brilliant.” “No lies detected,” Mac agrees.

The trouble is, I don’t think my daughter’s faking. And as I look toward the two of them, I know I’m not faking anything either.

Across the snowy square, I gaze at Fable for a long beat, picturing something beyond Christmas. Maybe in some other world, I would make pancakes with her in the morning and we’d say goodnight to my daughter together in the evening. We’d venture up here for the holidays. I’d come to the opening of her first jewelry shop, and she’d cheer for her favorite team from a suite. And we’d curl up on the couch together next Christmas Eve, turn on some music, and look at the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree. Before I fucked her under it.

“But I’m not over the way you like to control things,” she says in a sensual tone. “You’re not over it?” I ask, picking up what she’s putting down. “Not at all.” She hesitates, then her eyes flicker with avid interest. “I think I’d like to know more about what you like to control.” Fuck all the other guys. I seize the moment and cup her cheeks. “Let me take you back to the chalet and show you.”

I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.

“Go to our room. Take off the sweater and jeans, strip down to just your bra and panties. And then I’m going to remind you that you’re mine till the end of the year. I’m the one who takes you out for drinks. I’m the one who flirts with you. I’m the one who makes you laugh. And I kiss you and I fuck you and then make you come more times than you think you can handle.”

My chest tightens, and a new emotion crawls up my throat. Something different—something not quite familiar. Something I’m not sure I’ve ever felt. I think…I’m fucking in love with her. She’s obedient and fiery all at once. I drag a hand through my hair. What the fuck do I do? But that’s a problem for tomorrow.

Are you kidding me? My aunt is giving me advice on light bondage?

But for tonight I’m going to wrap up Fable like the present she is.

All thoughts of this ending fall from my head when I see her spread out on the sleigh bed, arms above her head, copper hair fanned out on the white pillows, creamy skin on display, and a very naughty smile coasting across her pretty lips. And…all those red-and-white stripes on her body.

I drink in the scene. My fake girlfriend brought sexy lingerie for me. She also turned on the lights to the Christmas tree and flicked on the fireplace. It’s crackling. She’s set the scene and all that’s left is the playlist I made. I take out my phone and hit start. Tinas...

“This,” he begins in a smoky drawl as he regards me, “this is what I asked Santa for.” A shudder runs down my body. “Me naked on a sleigh bed?” “Yes. Because I want to unwrap you like the fucking gift you are.”

“But first I’m going to remind you that you’re my gift. My present. Mine,”

Because I’m learning something private about my boss. He really likes to eat.

“But I’m not going to unwrap my gift just yet.” His gaze is molten, his words gravelly. “I just want to…taste it.”

He spreads my legs as wide as he possibly can, humming approvingly. “What a pretty pink gift. And I like my presents wet.” He rubs his trim stubble against the inside of my thigh, and I gasp. “And glistening.” He blows a stream of air against my eager clit. “And very, very horny.” “You’ve got your wish,” I say, aching for him. “Yes, I really have,”

head and pleasure pops everywhere. “Please, please, please, please, please,” I chant. He stops, looks up innocently. “Please what?” “Give me more than I can handle,” I beg, breathless with lust. He returns to my thighs, murmuring, “Gladly.” Then he devours me till I come so hard my vision blurs and my brain goes offline.

“My multiple orgasms are your gift?” His grin is wolfish. “They really fucking are, Fable.”

I’m not thinking in words. I’m thinking in brilliant colors. In wild sensations. Everything feels more intense with him. Everything feels like we mean it. Like we’ve pushed past that practice phase. Like we’re taking all the things we truly want. And I want everything that Wilder wants to give me.

When he breaks the kiss, I look up at him. His lips are bruised from kissing me, and his eyes are wild. But they’re also…soft. Filled with raw desire, but also some tenderness that makes me feel like every word he said tonight is so true.

“Yes. Your dick is a fucking present,” I say, then feeling daring, I add, “Tastes like a present too.” His breath hisses. “Your beautiful filthy mouth…It looks so pretty with my cock in it.”

He pushes his boxers down, his thick, hard cock springing free and pointing my way. “But you don’t get to suck it tonight.” “What do I get?” “What you need,” he says with authority.

I sink down, craning my neck to watch him the whole time as he grabs a condom, slides it on, and notches the head of his cock against me. His jaw tightens, like he’s at war with himself, then he seems to lose the battle. “I’ve wanted you for so fucking long,” he says then shoves his cock into me and fills me all the way. I cry out with pleasure. “Wanted to fuck you when it’s snowing. Wanted to kiss you by the fireplace. Wanted to taste you,”

He eases in then out, his hands gripping the flesh of my ass as he finds a rhythm that matches the flickering of the lights on the Christmas tree. With a passion that mirrors the sultry tone of the music. With a lust that’s stronger than the crackling fire.

We smash all our fake romance guidelines that we set long ago. We throw out the dating handbook. We move together like we are together. He covers my back, grabs my chin, turns my face, and kisses me as he fucks me. It’s hot and deep and burns to the center of my soul.

As the aftershocks ripple through me, he eases out, unties me, and flips me over in seconds. He pushes my knees up to my chest and settles between my legs, looking down at me like a man unleashed. Like a man who thinks I’m his. He fucks me like I am his. And he feels like mine as his body jerks, shakes, then stills before he collapses on me with a smoky, soulful, “You.”

I don’t know what will happen tomorrow. I don’t know what will happen when we leave these cabins. But for now and the next few days, I think I like this filthy Christmas magic. I like it more than Christmas revenge.

Later, when we’re cleaned up and sliding under the covers, I say, “It really doesn’t matter that you can’t sing.” “Why is that?” “Because you fuck like a rock star.”

She remembers everything, from why I like snow to what kind of man my father is.

“I’m not going to leave. And I’m not going to that casino. And I’m not going to bail him out either.” At least not today. “Good. I’m proud of you,” she says.

“I can’t believe you’re up and out here, given how you hate mornings.” “I had a feeling you needed me.” I kiss the top of her head. “I did.” Far too much.

“Your man actually made seven-layer bars?” Josie asks again, even though the evidence is right here in the living room that connects our cabins. Maeve darts out a grabby hand. “Who cares if he actually made them? I want one. They look delicious.” She promptly stuffs it in her face and rolls her eyes in pleasure. “Oh my god, the man can bake. Wait. Can he fuck too?”

Sparks shimmy down my body. But I glance around, making sure nobody is nearby. I nod a big, exaggerated yes. “It’s like a whole new land of fucking with him. Last night, he tied me up with a red satin bow so that I looked like a Christmas present.” Maeve’s hazel eyes flicker. “That’s a very specific kink, and I am here for it.” “And I was there for it too,” I say.

“He’s kind of like a borderline pleasure Dom. He’s a little obsessed with giving me multiple orgasms.” “I’m ...

“He can bake, he’s a good dad, and he fucks like a god,” Everly says, counting off on her fingers. “Did I get that right, Fable?” Tingles rush over my skin because actually, that’s not all the man can do. “Oh, there’s more. He’s a great listener. He’s thoughtful. He’s smart. He can change a battery in a smoke detector. And he spoils me rotten. I mean, he booked us that private class and the dinner and the hotel room, and he treat...