Santa, Honey

by Sandra Hill

  “Hah! The only thing that ever happens to me at Christmas time is my Christmas Curse,” Jessie grumbled.

  “Now, Jessica, I have never believed that nonsense.”

  Henry distracted Aunt Clara then, wanting her advice on some tinsel that had become tangled.

  “Have some more fruitcake,” Luke urged, pressing a too-big hunk against Jessie’s mouth. Lord, the man must be part Indian the way he crept up on her unawares all the time.

  “I don’t want any more. I hate fruitcake. And I’m not hungry,” she insisted, which gave Luke the opportunity to shove the huge morsel in her open mouth. “Glmph.”

  He kept his fingertips on her lips an intimate second too long, and his smoldering eyes told her he had a hunger of an entirely different kind. Leaning close, he whispered, “Are you ready for some more wild sex?”

  She chewed quickly so she could answer him, but he laughed again and moved away.

  Willie ambled up with a calculating gleam in his eyes. “So tell me, Aunt Jessie. How old were you when you lost your virginity? Uncle Luke was fourteen.”

  She began to choke as the blasted fruitcake went down the wrong throat passage. When she finally recovered, after drinking a glass of Hawaiian Punch—another of Luke’s purchases—her gaze shot across the room.

  Luke threw his hands out hopelessly.

  Meanwhile, Willie karate-chopped a fruitcake in half.

  Jessica couldn’t remember when the Christmas Curse had ever been so bad.

  It was close to midnight before all the kids were nestled in their beds. Aunt Clara had retired soon after their absolutely wonderful Christmas Eve dinner—the best any of them had ever experienced. Jessica was about to call it a night herself, but first she had to take Fred out for one last nature call.

  “I’ll take him,” Luke offered, coming down the hall from the kitchen where he’d just gone to put away the last of the leftovers and turn out the lights. “I need to make a few more phone calls.”

  “Thanks. I’m really beat.” Then his words sank in. “Telephone calls?”

  “Yeah, I have a cellular phone in my car,” he admitted.

  She was too tired to be angry with him anymore. “You rat,” was the best she could come up with.

  “Hey, I have to have a cellular phone in the car at all times, in case of emergency. The nature of my business, you know. Besides, I had to call my sister Ellie to go get my laundry from the laundromat, didn’t I? Did you really think I would have gone with you so willingly if I knew I was losing a couple hundred dollars’ worth of clothes?”

  Jessica wasn’t sure what she’d been thinking at the time. Or if she’d been thinking at all.

  More important, Luke looked really worried now as he pulled on his jacket with Fred running circles of anticipation around his legs.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Jessie, I thought I was going to be able to pull off a Christmas surprise for you. I called my sister earlier today, like I said, and…well, a few other people. But even with the storm finally stopping tonight, I just don’t think I’ll be able to get any gifts here by tomorrow morning with the roads the way they are. It looks like there really won’t be any gifts when the kids wake up. I’m sorry.”

  Tears welled in her eyes, and her throat closed over. “Oh, Luke. You did that for these kids?”

  “No, Jessie, I did it for you,” he said, stepping closer.

  She’d been skittish all day every time Luke got near her, but now she opened her arms for him and hugged him warmly. “Thank you. No one’s ever done anything so nice for me before.”

  He smelled like wood smoke from the fireplace, and evergreen boughs, and fruitcake. She smiled against his neck—the brute smelled like fruitcake. And she was developing a compelling taste for fruitcake, darn it!

  He pulled back slightly. The fingertips of one hand brushed some unruly ringlets off her cheek, then trailed down to her throat, resting lightly on the pulse point. He gazed at her somberly as his head descended…one infinitesimal inch at a time. She angled her lips to meet his kiss.

  Unlike their earlier, frenzied touches, Luke acted as if he had all the time in the world now. Gently, gently he laid his lips on hers, exploring, coaxing.

  All of Jessica’s senses heightened. She felt the heat of Luke’s body. She heard a Mormon Tabernacle Choir rendition of “Silent Night” on the radio in the background, more beautiful than the highest heavenly hosts. The fire crackled a seductive lure. The glittering lights on the tree outshone the very stars in the night sky.

  Jessica never knew a kiss could be so expressive. And there was no doubt in her mind that Luke was using this gentle kiss to convey all the emotion she refused to recognize. With its shifting, changing textures, its feathery pressures and strokes, Luke’s kiss perfected all the nuances that a man’s lips could wield on a woman.

  He’s showing me that he loves me.

  Jessica scrunched her eyes closed tight at the wonder of it all.

  And, God help me, I love him, too.

  Cupping her face in both hands, Luke looked her fully in the eyes. The dog practically crossed its legs, yipping near their feet. “Wait for me, Jessie. We need to talk.”

  She nodded, too benumbed to speak.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said huskily over his shoulder.

  His hand was on the doorknob when a car horn blasted loudly, coming up the drive. Luke turned to her in question.

  She shrugged, unknowing.

  They both stood on the porch, shivering, watching the red car come barreling up the drive at breakneck speed, way too fast for the snowy conditions. It fishtailed in the turn-around area before the steps.

  “Oh, this is too much!” Jessica exclaimed as a tall, lean teenager in a black leather jacket and cowboy boots emerged from the driver’s side, grinning smugly.

  “Is it…” Luke began to ask; “…could it be…?”

  “Julio.”

  “Feliz Navidad, everyone,” the witless kid called out, as if he hadn’t disrupted the lives of a whole bunch of people…in fact, ruined their Christmas. Jessica clenched her fists at her sides, counting to ten before she ripped him limb from limb.

  That’s when Luke tugged on her sleeve, pointing incredulously at the armloads of gaily wrapped packages Julio was grabbing from the back seat of Jessica’s car.

  “I’m gonna kill him,” she gritted out.

  Luke wrapped both arms around her from behind, locking her in place. “Slow down. Give him a chance to explain. Then let me kill him.”

  “Hi, Aunt Jessie,” Julio said breezily as he walked by them, big as you please. “Don’t just stand there like an icicle. Bring some packages in.”

  “Now, Jessie. Now, Jessie,” Luke cautioned, “he’s only a kid.”

  As Luke dragged her by the hand down to the car and started loading packages in her arms, she pointed out, “That kid let me think I was carrying an empty pistol. That kid stole my purse and”—she glanced at the dozens of gifts piled in the back seat—“oh, damn, he must have maxed out my credit cards.”

  Julio was back, beaming up at both of them as if he were a teenage Hispanic Santa Claus. “I did good, didn’t I, Aunt Jessie?”

  Luke jammed a package on top of the pile in her arms, blocking her face before she could answer.

  “I even got a laptop computer for Henry. Boy, are those things expensive. You really should get a larger maximum on your Visa card, you know.”

  Jessica walked stiffly into the house, counting to ten, then twenty, trying to avoid her inevitable explosion. Behind her, she heard Julio ask Luke, “Who are you? Aunt Jessie’s new boyfriend? Man, I hope you’re better than that dweeb she was shakin’ the sheets with before. Think his name was Burp.”

  “I think I’m gonna like you, Julio,” Luke chortled. “What’d you get for Kajeeta?”

  They’d entered the living room and were arranging the gifts under the tree.

  “Ballet and tap shoes. And dance tights. But, man oh man,
was it hard to find them things in an extralarge chunky size! I got Willie a bong pole, one of those stupid karate pajama outfits, and a Ninja turtle tape. And I bought that bad-ass Darlene a Walkman and a big carry-case of Revlon makeups. Now she can be a high-class slut instead of a low-class bad girl.” He grinned at Luke, then fake-punched him in the arm to show he was teasing.

  Then Julio added the topper. “Hey, anyone ever tell you that you look a little bit like Brad Pitt…except older?”

  Jessica did laugh then. The whole situation was so ridiculous. But there would be a Christmas after all. She was still angry with Julio—furious actually—but he’d delivered their Christmas miracle. And for that she had to be thankful. So she couldn’t kill the messenger tonight, but tomorrow, tomorrow she would give him holy hell.

  “I’m starved. I don’t know how women do it. Shoppin’ their booties off all the time. Man, it wipes a guy out. Is there anything to eat?”

  “Fruitcake,” she and Luke said at the same time.

  A short time later, Jessica exited the bathroom and was shuffling along in her furry bunny slippers and flannel nightgown toward her bedroom. The house was silent now, except for the occasional creak of its aged “bones” and the whistling wind outside. Pleasantly exhausted, she mused that it had been one of the best Christmas Eves of her life, despite that misguided brat, Julio. And she had Luke to thank for it all.

  So she shouldn’t have been surprised when she opened her bedroom door to see him lying on her bed. The light of the bedside lamp reflected on his sensually posed, half-reclining body propped against the headboard with two pillows, arms folded behind his neck.

  Shirtless and barefooted.

  Wearing a pair of jeans that were already enticingly unbuttoned at the top.

  Every hormone in her body began to tango.

  “Luke,” she squeaked out, “you can’t come in here. Aunt Clara’s in the next room.”

  “So I guess you’ll have to be extra quiet when you—”

  “Don’t say it,” she hissed.

  “Nice slippers,” he remarked as she stomped closer. Then he gave her voluminous nightgown a sweeping assessment. “Sexy negligee, too.”

  “Oh, get out of here.”

  “What? You don’t want my Christmas present?” He held out a small package wrapped in Frosty the Snowman paper.

  She eyed the gift suspiciously, trying hard not to notice the corded sinews ridging his extended arms, the hard tendons ridging his abdomen, the bulge ridging his…

  Luke chuckled, and she averted her blushing face, taking the gift he tossed into her hands. He was sitting up now, watching her intently.

  “God, I love your hair,” he said in a husky voice.

  She put a hand to the unmanageable curls, which she hated, and her knees felt weak and buttery under his hungry gaze.

  “Can I brush it? Later?”

  Her knees did buckle then. She had to hold on to the bedpost for support.

  “Open your gift, Jessie,” he urged.

  “But I didn’t buy you anything,” she said with a moue of embarrassment.

  “No problem! This gift’s for both of us.” A twinkle of mischief, not to mention dark, hard-core arousal, in his deep hazel eyes turned her suddenly alert.

  That’s when she began to suspect what the rogue had given her. A flutter of excitement teased across her skin as she unpeeled the paper. “Oh!” She put the tips of one hand to her parted lips as she gaped, openmouthed, at her gift.

  The bottle of skin-warming oil.

  Chapter Six

  “Oh, my!” she gasped, the bottle feeling sinfully hot in her hand.

  “I’ll second that.” He threw his long legs over the side of the bed and stood. Then, boldly holding her eyes, he unzipped his jeans and let them fall to the floor. He wore no underwear. Stepping out of the pant legs, he drawled in a thick, thick voice,“It’s peppermint flavored. Do you like peppermint, Jessie?”

  She couldn’t speak at first, overwhelmed by the beauty of this man… this man she’d come to love in such a short time.“I love peppermint,” she whispered.

  He stood statue-still, five feet away from her, exuding virility. Chiseled bones created stunning curves and planes in his marvelously sculpted face. His hair was clubbed back at the nape, as usual, with a dark rubber band. Not an ounce of excess fat marred his well-toned body, from wide shoulders, to rippled abdomen, to narrow waist and hips, to flat stomach, to…

  Something primal quickened deep inside her…to his erection, which stood out in rampant declaration of his need for her…his carnal intentions.

  Breathlessly she waited for his next move.

  There was none. Except for a slight tilt of his head.

  And she understood what he wanted.

  Jessica was not used to this kind of foreplay. Oh, she’d had lovers before…not a lot, but a few. And she’d enjoyed sex some of those times, though the men she’d known were usually the aggressors, and she a docile participant. Willing, but never the seducer. Always the seducee.

  Luke was insisting on more from her. Much, much more.

  Do I want to make love with him?

  Oh, yes!

  Do I want to please him?

  Definitely!

  It would only be this one night.

  Of course.

  Then he’ll leave.

  They always do.

  One night.

  “Jessie,” Luke hissed. A single word. Raw and soul-wrenchingly impassioned.

  She kicked off her bunny slippers.

  He smiled.

  She released the ribbon of her ponytail and let her hair spill out over her shoulders and down her back.

  He sighed.

  Clutching the fabric of her nightgown, she began to draw it slowly upward, exposing first her calves and knees and thighs.

  His smoldering eyes followed the hem.

  She paused at the juncture of her thighs, took a deep breath to overcome her innate shyness, then drew the nightgown up to her waist.

  His lips parted as his eyes locked on that part of her.

  His ragged breathing was loud and heavy in the silent room.

  Licking her dry lips, she gathered courage and pulled the garment the rest of the way upward, over her head.

  “Oh, Jessie.”

  Hunger. His eyes devoured her with a primitive hunger that almost frightened her with its magnitude. His erection was even larger than before, turgid.

  He crooked his fingers, coaxing her closer.

  She moved halfway.

  He closed the distance, still not touching her. Just looking. Then he held a hand out, palm upward, and she realized she still held the warming oil clenched in her hand.

  Already, before he’d even touched her, Jessica was fiercely aroused. She didn’t know if she could stand to wait. She might splinter apart, way too soon.

  Taking the bottle in his hand, he unscrewed the lid and sniffed deeply, grinning at her—a teasing grin of anticipation. Then he winked with wicked promise.

  For the first time in her life, Jessica felt like swooning.

  Shaking a drop of the slick oil onto his forefinger, he traced her lips, parting them. The pungent odor filled the air, and the flavor of candy canes teased her taste buds. Almost immediately, she forgot about the taste and smell, however, as her lips and tongue grew warm, throbbing with an odd heat.

  He kept his body a good foot away from her. When she reached out to embrace him, he shook his head, pressing her arms to her sides.“No, sweetheart. Not yet. I want the sensations to center only on the oil. And the erotic places I touch.”

  Places? She groaned.

  “How does it taste, Jessie?”

  “Wonderful.”

  “How does it feel?”

  “Tingly.”

  He laughed.“Can you feel the heat?”

  “Ye-e-es,” she breathed.

  “Are you sure?” he said, his neck craning forward.“I’d better check.” With the tip of his tongue, h
e traced the outline of her lips, then the seam.“Open for me,” he demanded, and, before she’d barely complied, his tongue was filling her mouth, exploring. Stroking, in and out. Stroking.“Ummmm, delicious,” he murmured against her, his mouth covering hers wetly.

  “I can’t stand it,” she cried at last as her bones turned to jelly with the intense waves of excitement sweeping from her heated lips to her breasts and downward. Yes, downward.

  “Good,” he rasped out, and turned her so her back was to him, her head lolling on his right shoulder. His steely erection pressed against the cleft of her buttocks. Gently drawing her hair off her face, he anointed the pulse point at the curve of her neck. When it, too, turned warm, he nipped the spot with his teeth, then soothed the abused skin with slow licks of torture.

  She tried to turn.“I want to hold you. I want you to hold me.”

  “Not yet. Put your hands behind my neck,” he urged. Then he sketched an oily line from her armpits to her hips on either side, over to the center where he rotated the tip of his forefinger in her navel, then up through the middle of her body to her collarbone. A hot pulse followed wherever he touched, like a line of ignited dynamite powder. He did the same to the backs of her knees, and the insides of her thighs, even the sensitive arches of her feet.

  Next he poured a more generous amount of the fluid on one of his palms and rubbed both palms together. He used the wide, callused surfaces to paint her breasts—under, around, the tops, everywhere but on the aureoles or taut peaks where she wanted the heat most. With a mewling cry, she attempted to guide his hands to the aching nipples, but he resisted, chuckling.

  “Come,” he said, taking her hand and pulling her to the side of the bed. He seated her on the edge and placed several pillows at her waist, forcing the backward. Her elbows were braced on the bed and her breasts were arched high—a continual vibrating thrum in their warm depths. Then he parted her legs and knelt on the floor between her thighs.

  “Luke, no. I don’t like this. I feel expos—oh…oh!”

  Finally he was attending to her nipples, drizzling the warm oil around the aureoles, then over the pebbled points themselves. She let out a soft cry as the area turned immediately hot and pulsing.