Blazing Hot Christmas

by Beth Beaumont

  Blazing Hot Christmas

  Beth Beaumont

  Copyright © 2019 by Beth Beaumont

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Holly

  Colt

  Holly

  Colt

  Holly

  Colt

  Holly

  Colt

  Holly

  Colt

  Holly

  Colt

  Holly

  Holly

  “Come on Jingles, please come down,” I plead with my cantankerous cat, who’s sitting on a high branch meowing down at me, while I stamp my feet, trying to keep warm in the snow.

  She never wants to go outside…like ever. Why the hell did she have to choose a snowy day to slip past me, darting into the nearest tree?

  “Come on, pretty kitty,” I coo, using my sweetest voice, when what I really want to do is peg her with a snowball to chase her down, so that I can get both of us back inside, where we belong.

  “Hey, Holly, what’s going on?” I hear a nasal, masculine voice ask.

  Great. It’s my neighbor, Wyatt. He’s had a crush on me for years, and there isn’t a snowball’s chance that I’ll ever go out with him. He’s a recently-divorced guy who isn’t bad looking, but all he talks about is sports, and he’s constantly bragging about his latest new toys – a jet ski, a motorcycle, a new car – it’s nauseating. He has a pot belly and hitches up his pants every time I see him. I’m like, dude, why don’t you just buy a belt?

  “Jingles got out,” I sigh, craning my neck to give my cat a dirty look, as I hear the snow crunch behind me and hear Wyatt breathing near my shoulder.

  “Want me to get her for you?” he asks, snickering at my predicament.

  “How are you going to do that?” I ask, fearing that he’ll want to use a bb gun or something.

  Wyatt isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed.

  “I got a ladder,” he shrugs.

  “Yeah, that’d be great,” I say, surprised at his practical suggestion.

  “Alright, hang tight sugar britches,” he smirks, heading back toward his garage, as I roll my eyes.

  He’s told me before, on more than one occasion, that he loves ‘thick chicks with great racks.’ Apparently that information was supposed to make me swoon and fall into his arms. Nice try, Wyatt, but no.

  “Come on, Jingles…please?” I say, while my cat ignores me and starts licking her paw.

  If I can get her down from there before Wyatt comes back, I won’t have to deal with him acting like I owe him for coming to my rescue.

  “Come on, kitty kitty. I’ll give you tuna…please,” I whisper urgently.

  While I’m focused on Jingles, a pickup truck pulls over behind me, but I ignore it, thinking that it’s just one of the neighbors, coming home from work. The driver’s door slams, and I glance nervously toward Wyatt’s house. He still hasn’t emerged.

  “Need help?” a deep voice that tickles me in special places asks.

  I turn around and see this gorgeous guy in tight jeans, a blue flannel shirt, and an open parka walking toward me.

  “Uh, yeah…” I say, automatically reaching up to pat my wild mass of raven curls into place. “My poor kitty,” I hide my frustration and give him the big, sad eyes, shivering.

  At this point, I don’t know if I’m shivering just because I’m cold, or because this incredibly hot guy just came to stand beside me. I check him out as he looks up into the tree, assessing the situation. He’s got this strong jawline that makes me want to nibble on it, with just a touch of razor stubble, and his body is muscular beneath his clothes. Unable to help myself, I glance down at his package, and the rounded bulge there looks very promising. His arm brushes against mine as he cranes his neck and looks up at Jingles, who mews at him.

  “Well, we can’t leave such a sweet…kitty out in the cold now, can we?” he asks, his full lips curling into a smile as his espresso eyes twinkle.

  My mind goes immediately into the gutter, and my nipples harden in response to my dirty little thoughts. He smells so good, like fireplaces and cologne, it should be criminal.

  “I know, poor thing,” I breathe.

  He goes over to the tree and looks it up and down, then makes a decision. Without saying a word, he pulls a pair of leather gloves out of his pockets and jumps up to grab the bottom branch. Wyatt finally comes out of his garage, dragging a ladder down his driveway, making a ton of noise, but I ignore him, watching the hot guy’s ass as he swings his feet up onto the branch, like a gymnast. He hoists himself up, so that he’s standing on the bottom branch, and he reaches out for Jingles, talking to her in this sweet voice that drenches my panties and makes some long-unused muscles tighten with longing.

  The little traitor goes right to him – I don’t blame her, I would too, if he was asking to take me in his arms – and he cuddles her against that massive chest, zipping up his parka with her inside, so his hands are free to climb back down the tree. He swings down from the bottom branch and drops lightly to his feet, and I’m all starry-eyed, but trying to play it cool.

  “She’s a little cold, but looks fine otherwise,” he says, handing her to me, his gloved hands brushing against the sleeves of my coat and sending a thrill through me as I picture those big hands in all sorts of interesting places.

  “Why’d you ask me to help you if you’re just gonna waste my time?” Wyatt grumbles, and I don’t even look at him.

  “I didn’t ask you, but thanks anyway,” I mumble at Wyatt, while still staring at the hot guy. “Thank you so much,” I smile at the hot guy. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” I say, catching my lower lip between my teeth and looking up at him through my lashes.

  He must be at least 6’4”.

  “Oh, right. I’m Colt,” he says, with this grin that seems a little shy.

  I want to throw him down on the snow and jump on top of him.

  “Of course you are,” I murmur.

  I know, of course, that there’s like, zero chance that a guy who looks like this isn’t firmly attached to some beautiful Barbie doll, but, while he’s here, and a captive audience, I’m going to work it.

  “Huh?” he asks, confused by my weird response.

  I blush, caught in my admiration.

  “I mean, that’s a nice name. It seems to suit you,” I say. “I’m Holly.”

  “Nice to meet you,” he says, tucking his gloves back into his coat pockets. “How’d your cat get up in the tree?” he asks.

  “She slipped right past me when I opened the door to get the mail,” I make a face.

  “So she’s not an outdoor cat?” he frowns.

  I shake my head, wondering where he’s going with this.

  “Might want to be more careful about not letting her out then,” he says, like I did it on purpose. “Things could have been much worse for her in this cold.”

  “You think I planned this?” I give him a look.

  “No, I’m sorry,” he holds up those capable-looking hands. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m glad she’s okay. I just see a lot of this kind of thing,” he shrugs.

  “What are you, some kind of cat-rescuing crusader?” I tease, deciding to let him off the hook.

  I mean, in all fairness, he did just climb a tree on my behalf.

  “Something like that,” he smiles, and the heat that flashes through me like lightning could melt the snow in my entire neighborhood. “Take care, Holly,” he turns and jogs back to his truck and
I watch his high, tight ass as he runs.

  When he gets to the truck, he flashes another smile, waves and gets in. As he drives away, Wyatt snorts beside me.

  “New boyfriend?” he asks, sounding like he’s pouting.

  “I wish,” I murmur, watching the pickup truck disappear around the corner.

  “Damn women can’t see what’s right in front of their noses,” Wyatt grumbles, stomping back toward his garage.

  “Let’s go get warm, Jingles,” I say, kissing the top of her furry head and hurrying toward the house.

  Colt

  Is it bad that I am kind of glad that this hot chick standing by a tree, shivering in her tight jeans and cute little boots, looks like she needs help? I see that amazing blue-black mass of hair, and the way that ass fills out her jeans, and I feel warm all over, even though I just pulled an all-night shift at the station. I stop my truck and get out.

  Her face is just as beautiful as the rest of her, and when she looks up into the tree, I quickly reach down to adjust my fly. Her cheeks are all rosy from being in the cold, and I can’t help but think about how much I’d really like to get her warmed up.

  The cat is adorable, and the tree looks like it’ll be relatively easy to climb. A wave of exhaustion passes over me, but I shake it off and climb the tree, just as some yahoo neighbor slouches over, dragging his ladder like it’s too heavy for him to handle. Amateur.

  Cats dig me – all animals do, pretty much – so she comes right to me, and I climb down with her, trying to figure out some way to get closer to her human. I want to ask her out, but you can’t just rescue a cat and ask for a date, right? I hand the cat over, and when I get that close to the gorgeous babe, I’m glad that my parka covers my crotch, because I get hard as a rock, despite being tired. If I could think straight, I’d get her number, but man, she’s so hot that I can’t even form the words.

  I say goodbye and get out of there, kicking myself all the way home. It’s probably just as well that we didn’t connect. There aren’t too many women who can put up with my schedule and lifestyle. But man…what I wouldn’t give for a night with Holly. Even her name makes me want her. So sweet, so female.

  I can’t get her out of my mind, even after I get home, which is strange. I’m usually so busy that I don’t have time to think about women, and I’m okay with that. Coupling up doesn’t seem to be in the cards for me. But, I can’t stop thinking about her, and as I step into the shower, before heading to bed to catch a few hours of sleep, I get this raging hard-on that won’t go away.

  That face, those jade-green eyes, that incredibly round ass…and even beneath her winter coat, it was obvious that she had a great rack. As the warm water cascades down my body, rinsing away the smell of smoke and yesterday’s cologne, I take myself in my hand, picturing Holly’s beautiful face as I lean against the wall and start to stroke myself. My cock pulses in my hand and I stroke faster, the warm water splashing down, making the feeling more intense.

  I picture what it would be like to be with her, kissing her, taking her nipple between my teeth, slipping inside her, and I start pumping my hips, imagining that I’m giving her a good, hard fucking. I imagine her coming, her mouth open, those perfectly white teeth bared as she screams, and my cock kicks up in response. My thighs go rigid, and my balls tuck up tightly as an ecstatic surge shoots through my body.

  “Holly!” I call out, as I come, thick white jets spurting over my hand and splatting on the shower floor.

  Every inch of my body tingles, as I’m rocked with wave after wave of my release, her face fresh in my mind as I come. When it’s all over, I let go of my cock, and it’s still hard as a rock, bouncing at my crotch as the shower water runs over it, which feels amazing, like the touch of a lover after really good sex.

  I lean against the cool tiles of the shower wall, panting, and rinse my hand under the stream of water. If she has this much power over me already, there’s no way in hell I’m going out with her. I’d be putty in her hands, and that never works out well. When I’m with a woman, I get soft. I trust too easily, and I get hurt. I’m not signing up for that again. No way. I’ll stay safe and stay the hell away from Holly.

  Holly

  “Come on, Hol, you have to go with me,” my friend Josie is begging me to go with her to some fancy fundraiser thing for the local children’s museum, where she volunteers on weekends.

  “Okay, first of all, I don’t have anything to wear to something like that, and second, I don’t have any kids and I don’t anticipate having any kids in the near future,” I say.

  I don’t mind dressing up and eating fancy hors d’oeuvres, but it’s a Christmas thing, and I’m just not feeling the Christmas spirit this year. Last year, right before Christmas, I found out that my boyfriend was cheating on me. I saw the credit card slip for the expensive jewelry that he’d bought for his other girlfriend, and I broke up with him. It ruined my Christmas, especially since my parents had just moved out of the country and I couldn’t even spend time with them. So far this year, I hadn’t even bothered to put up a tree.

  “I’ll loan you one of my dresses, and you don’t have to have kids. I don’t have kids, and I’m going,” Josie says, giving me that look that lets me know she’s not going to give up. “Think of it as an early birthday celebration,” she grins.

  My birthday is on Christmas Eve, which is why my parent’s named me Holly. Yep, Holly Berry, lucky me. I hated having a Christmas Eve birthday when I was a kid because I only got presents once a year, so my mom started having an ‘unbirthday’ for me in July, on the 24th.

  “I’d have to get my hair done,” I grumble, reaching for any excuse to say no.

  “I’ve already made two appointments for us at your favorite salon,” Josie folds her arms, looking like the cat who ate the canary.

  “I don’t know…” I sigh, really not feeling it.

  “Look, if you come to this with me, I’ll go to your office Christmas party with you,” Josie sighs.

  “Really?” I grin.

  “Yes, really. Now say you’ll go, before I change my mind,” she mutters.

  I’m a receptionist at an insurance company, and one of the middle-aged reps, Jerry, has a thing for Josie. Apparently her red hair and freckles drive him wild. Last year at the Christmas party, he got drunk and chased her around with mistletoe. She swore she’d never go again.

  “Okay, I’ll do it,” I laugh.

  It’s going to be entertaining to see what Jerry would do this year.

  “Damn, girl, I never looked like that in that dress,” Josie admires me, when I come out of the bathroom at her apartment.

  The dress that she loaned me is a low-cut, emerald-green satin, and it clings to my every curve. I look at it in the mirror and nod. I feel like a princess.

  “I’ll probably spill on it,” I warn.

  “Then you’ll pay for the dry cleaning,” Josie raises an eyebrow at me.

  We get to the country club, of all places, where they’re holding the event, and I see people getting out of limousines. My stomach drops, and I swallow.

  “I don’t think we belong here,” I whisper, gazing at the local glitterati.

  “Oh bullshit. We have just as much right to be here as anybody else,” Josie insists, her jaw set. “Hold your head up high and rock it, Princess,” she grins. “Maybe we’ll get lucky with a polo guy tonight,” Josie giggles.

  “Yeah, because that happens to thick girls all the time,” I roll my eyes.

  “There’s more of us to love, girlfriend. Lighten up, this is going to be fun. You can sit on Santa’s lap and ask him for something good,” she teases.

  “What self-respecting Santa would show up to this place?” I grumble, regretting my decision to come along.

  “Well, the fire fighters are sponsoring this event too, and rumor has it that one of them will be here, dressed as Santa,” Josie waggles her eyebrows.

  “Yeah, the one who has a white beard and a stomach like a bowl full of jelly,”
I sigh.

  “Stop being negative. We’re going to drink and eat and be merry. Then, when I’ve said hi to all the right people, we can leave and go downtown for a drink,” Josie shrugs.

  “Dressed like this?” my eyebrows raise.

  “Hell yes, girl. We’ll make it a night to remember.”

  Once we’re inside, Josie flits away, playing nice with all of the society set, and I head for the bar. With a vodka cranberry in my hand, I find our table and set my purse on my chair. Starving now, I head for the hors d’oeuvres table and grab a plate. There’s a huge tree in the corner, and there are a bunch of kids lined up to see Santa. Josie said that they’ll see Santa, get their presents, and go to a different room for a kids’ party.

  I’m piling stuffed mushrooms, deviled eggs, shrimp and baby eggrolls onto my plate, when I hear a guy behind me say, “I love a woman who isn’t afraid to eat.”

  I turn around and see this guy who must be sixty, if he’s a day, smiling at me. He’s attractive in that well-kept, best body that money can buy kind of way, but I’m not into sugar daddies, so I just smile and keep moving. He follows me back to the table.

  “Aren’t there like, assigned seats or something?” I ask, looking pointedly at the place card in front of me.

  “Dearest, when you make the kind of donations that I do, you can sit where you please,” he smiles, and there’s a bit of a scary little gleam in his eyes.

  I don’t know what to do, so I just nod and then fasten my eyes on my plate, hoping he’ll go away. When he doesn’t, I just ignore him and start eating, though he’s making me so uncomfortable that I feel weird when I chew, knowing that he’s staring at me.

  “Do I know you?” I ask, my mouth full.