Twelve Quickies Of Christmas 4: Just A Little Magic

by Kate Douglas

  JUST A LITTLE MAGIC

  An Ellora's Cave Publication, DECEMBER 2003

  Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

  PO Box 787

  Hudson, OH 44236-0787

  ISBN MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-84360-729-8

  Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned):

  Adobe (PDF), Rocketbook (RB), Mobipocket (PRC) & HTML

  JUST A LITTLE MAGIC © 2003 KATE DOUGLAS

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without permission.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. They are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  Edited by Karen Williams

  Cover art by Darrell King.

  JUST A LITTLE MAGIC

  BY

  KATE DOUGLAS

  TWELVE QUICKIES OF CHRISTMAS

  BOOK FOUR

  Chapter 1

  The lights on the Christmas tree twinkled and glittered, reflecting off the few gaily-wrapped packages beneath its fragrant boughs. The dying fire cast a soft glow about the formal dining room of the small cottage, throwing the holiday decorations into muted shadow. The scent of a well-seasoned roast blended with the piney smells from the fresh greens trimming the mantel.

  Beth Adams watched the expensive beeswax candles on her perfectly arranged dinner table sputter and die as, one by one, they burned out.

  Sort of like her plans for the evening.

  Face it…just like my plans for the rest of my life.

  A soft clink disturbed the silence, the bottle of champagne settling among the melting ice cubes. She reached for the bottle. No point in wasting good, chilled champagne.

  Steve was a jerk. He would never have appreciated her grandmother’s bone china with its gilded design, or her great-aunt Audrey’s beautiful silver service—one reserved for only the most special occasions.

  He wouldn’t notice the expensive brand of champagne, or recognize the fact Beth had prepared for a very memorable evening.

  Steve couldn’t help it if he was culturally, emotionally and intellectually challenged. She’d honestly thought he was cute enough to compensate for the occasional lapse in …well, just about everything.

  “How could I be so stupid?” She rested her aching head in her hands and fought tears. He wasn’t worth tears. He certainly wasn’t worth the effort she’d gone to tonight.

  She’d never before pulled out the china, the crystal goblets, the gorgeous silverware. Never opened her heart and her home with so much expectation.

  Only for special occasions…

  A wedding proposal on Christmas Eve definitely came under the special occasions heading. Steve had been hinting at something big, something special, something just for Beth, all week long. Not just little hints, either.

  Of course, she’d been so sure he was planning to propose. She didn’t expect him to pick the perfect setting, so she’d created it herself. They’d dated for months. Tall and slim she wasn’t, but her ample curves were in all the right places and her auburn hair waved and curled in shining splendor almost to her waist. The sex had been good. Not spectacular, but okay. At thirty-two, Beth figured she was willing to settle for okay.

  She was not, however, willing to settle for a boyfriend who thought a satellite dish for her TV was the perfect Christmas gift.

  Especially not when she’d been expecting a diamond ring.

  She went hot and cold all over, remembering how stupid she’d felt, standing out there in the snow, dressed in her dark burgundy velvet gown designed specifically for seduction, asking Steve what he was doing on her roof.

  “Isn’t it great, honey? Merry Christmas! I got you a satellite dish for the TV. You can get the Sports Channel, Playboy TV—why, you can get almost two hundred channels with this thing!”

  She’d opened her mouth, but nothing had come out. She’d opened it again, swallowed, blinked. “That’s my big Christmas surprise? A satellite dish?”

  “Yeah. Cool, huh?”

  “No, Steve. It is definitely not cool. Take it away. I don’t even watch TV. Why would I want a satellite dish?”

  “Uh, to make watching TV more fun? I really miss seeing the games when I’m over here. And think of all the fun we could have with the Playboy Channel.”

  Suddenly, Beth realized her entire relationship was there, encapsulated within those few words. Steve didn’t have a clue who she was, didn’t care what she wanted. Did she really want to marry this schmuck? Create more little schmucks?

  Clear as the driven snow, as fresh as an ice crystal and not nearly as painful as Beth would have imagined, it all coalesced into a single amazing thought.

  This was not the man she wanted to marry. Thank goodness he hadn’t actually asked her, because she would have said yes.

  Not a smart move. Not smart at all. Waking up to Mr. Sports Channel every morning?

  “Go home, Steve. Go home and take your satellite dish with you. Have a merry Christmas. Watch the Playboy Channel on your own TV because you certainly won’t be watching mine.” With her dignity intact and her head held high, Beth had quietly gone back inside the house and closed the door.

  * * * * *

  She poured another glass of champagne from the half empty bottle. A bit splashed on the linen table cloth, but she leaned over and licked it up with her tongue. The same tongue that could have been licking Steve. The idiot. She focused on the small pile of opened gifts resting in front of her, gifts from her girlfriends at the office.

  Irene’s package was really interesting, nothing more than a little egg with a remote control. Of course, once Beth figured out where the egg went, she realized someone else really needed to work the remote to get the full effect. She giggled, thinking of the possibilities. Margaret’s present was more obvious—a lifelike purple penis, complete with extra batteries.

  She stared long and hard at the phallus, comparing it with Steve’s. His was nothing like this monster! She flipped the switch and it pulsed to life, throbbing in her hand like something alive.

  She felt the muscles between her legs contract at the possibilities. She’d never once used a vibrator, but ever since Tina from marketing had invited her friend Dot to give that sex toy party, all the girls had been giving them as gifts.

  Beth wondered if anyone had actually used the damned things.

  Filling her glass with the last of the champagne, she wobbled across the plush carpeting with the purple penis buzzing in her hand. It felt alive, the covering warm and sleek. Slipping her panties off, she hiked up her long skirt and sprawled on the pillows in front of the fire, the same pillows where she had intended to seduce Steve.

  Sipping at her champagne, Beth stared long and hard at the softly humming dildo, then took an experimental swipe with the vibrating tip across her clit.

  She jumped and giggled. Champagne splashed down the front of her burgundy velvet dress, so she slipped the gown over her head and tossed it aside. Her brassiere went next.

  Beth decided there was something wonderfully decadent about lying naked on a pile of pillows in front of a dying fire, sipping good champagne and fucking herself with a huge vibrating purple penis. She stroked between her legs, parting the wet folds with the throbbing head. It practically crawled in deeper on its own.

  Who was she to fight the power of two D-cell batteries?

  Damn it felt good. She spread her legs wide and ran the dildo all the way inside. She was wet and ready, something that usually took forever when she had sex with Steve. The pulsating vibrations reached all the w
ay to her bones.

  She slipped it in and out, sighing with the pure pleasure of being completely filled by something hot and almost alive. She let it touch her clit on every other pass, then realized she was spending just as much time on that needy little bit of flesh as anywhere else. She thought about pinching her breasts, but she was holding the champagne with one hand and the dildo with the other, and she’d just flat run out of hands.

  It didn’t matter. Not one bit, because suddenly her orgasm slammed into her out of the blue, a deep, throbbing, needy crush of nerves and muscles and ripe sensation. Gasping, sighing, Beth slowed her new favorite toy to a steady rhythm, catching each tiny quiver and clench, riding her climax to the very last shiver. Finally, with a long, shuddering sigh, she flipped the off switch.

  She lay there a moment, staring at the huge purple monster still deeply imbedded between her thighs. It felt good, filling her completely while her pussy spasmed and rippled against the ribbed surface. Gazing thoughtfully at the vibrator, Beth finished off her last swallow of champagne and set the glass aside.

  After a few minutes, she giggled. They’d all made silly jokes about women needing toys for sex, embarrassed to admit they even knew about the blasted things, but this was the best orgasm she’d had in her life.

  Great sex without the complications. D-cell batteries and a purple plastic penis were certainly a lot cheaper and easier to handle than a selfish, thickheaded ex-boyfriend.

  Chapter 2

  Ouch! Beth awoke out of a sound sleep, stabbed in the crotch with the purple penis when she tried to roll over. Blinking herself awake, she removed the plastic toy from between her legs. Naked, the dildo hanging from her limp fingers, Beth headed toward her bedroom.

  Her lonely bedroom. Damn. She’d really expected to spend the night with Steve, wearing a new diamond engagement ring and nothing else. Somehow, she didn’t picture herself wearing a satellite receiver…

  The little egg glistened on the dining room table. Beth picked it up and carried it into her room. She’d find the remote in the morning and put them away. Until she found another significant other, the egg would just have to wait.

  She hoped it wouldn’t be too long. The concept of wearing a vibrator that someone else controlled made her hot just thinking about it.

  Still half asleep, she left the purple dildo on the nightstand by her bed. She stared at the little egg for a long moment, until curiosity won out, then with great care, inserted it way inside between her legs. Just knowing it was in there was a turn on.

  Feeling more than a little bit decadent, Beth floated off to sleep.

  * * * * *

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  Beth jerked awake. What the hell?

  A loud clatter followed the thumps. A bang, what sounded suspiciously like a curse, then another thump.

  Steve! Damn him… The idiot must think that if he installed the stupid satellite dish, he’d get back in her good graces.

  And her bed.

  “Fat chance, you bastard.” Beth jumped out of bed and grabbed her robe and slippers. Thank goodness she’d finally seen the light. Tina and Margaret had been telling her what a jerk Steve was, but she just hadn’t been able to see it.

  “Well, my eyes are wide open tonight, kiddo.”

  Like an avenging angel, Beth stormed out the front door.

  How odd. There was no ladder in sight.

  She heard it again. A thump and a muffled curse.

  “Steve, get off my roof. I told you, I do not want a satellite dish.”

  “Huh? Wha…?” A startled shout, another curse. Suddenly a body slid over the edge of the roof, past the rain gutters, missed Beth by mere inches and landed in the snowdrift beside the front porch.

  Not Steve. Definitely not Steve. Caught in the glow of the porch light, the figure was dressed all in red and buried face first in the snow. Cautiously, Beth leaned over to see if he was all right.

  The figure moaned, grunted, said, “Aw, fuck,” in a soft, dejected voice, and Beth heard a loud sigh. After a moment, he turned himself right side up and shook his head.

  White hair, a long white beard…red suit and black boots.

  It had to be… Nah. No way.

  “I don’t think so.” Beth crossed her arms over her large breasts, suddenly feeling nearly naked and a whole lot vulnerable, standing in her front yard in her robe, talking to a strange man.

  A very strange man. “Who the hell are you?”

  “I was supposed to be the new Kris Kringle. They pink slipped me.” He sighed, then held up his right hand. Without thinking, Beth reached out and helped pull him to his feet.

  Just as quickly, she dropped his hand and rubbed hers against her thigh. Even beneath the black leather gloves he wore, his grip was warm and alive. She felt a shiver race from her fingertips to the spot where she suddenly remembered the little remote control egg was waiting for instructions.

  Her vaginal muscles tightened involuntarily around the egg. Beth grabbed the porch railing for support.

  Obviously favoring his right ankle, the man still towered over her, no great feat since she was barely over five feet tall. Beth fought the impulse to step back. “I’m still waiting to know who you are and what you were doing on my roof.”

  She thought of tapping her foot, realized her toes were numb from the cold, and stepped up on the porch. At least now she was closer to eye level with the man.

  He grabbed the railing, as if for support. She wondered just how badly he’d hurt himself in his tumble from the roof.

  “I’m Dominic. Dominic Claus.” He reached up and swept the red hat off his head, taking the heavy white wig with it. The fake beard joined the wig. The two pieces dangled like dead white rabbits from his left hand. Beth shuddered and took another step back.

  With his overly long coal-black hair and clean-shaven face, Nick Whoever-he-was suddenly looked a lot more threatening…and terribly appealing.

  Once more, Beth was almost preternaturally aware of the little egg resting snug and warm inside her. She fought an impulse to glance toward the dining room table where she’d left the remote.

  Then he shivered, and gave her a pleading look. “I’m freezing and my ankle hurts like a son of a gun. This has been one helluva night, and I could really use a drink. May I come in?”

  Nonplussed, Beth realized she was already holding the door open for a complete stranger. Limping heavily, Dominic crossed over her threshold and entered Beth’s little home.

  * * * * *

  Beth decided there was definitely something surrealistic about sipping brandy in front of a glowing fire in the wee hours of Christmas morning with the sexiest man she’d ever seen in her life—a sexy man dressed in a bright red Santa suit.

  “So you’re telling me there really is a Santa Claus, but he’s not just one man, he’s a succession of men, all related?”

  “Right. Each generation, a new Santa is chosen by the Santa Committee of elders to carry on the family tradition.” A look that might have been relief crossed his face. “I honestly didn’t want the job, but I must admit to a sense of loss when I realized my cousin Nick made the cut.” His smile was rueful, self-deprecating. “We’ve always been competitive. I hate losing, but I know Nick’ll make a better Santa than I ever could. I’m more into research and development.”

  He was either totally bonkers, or one of the most sincere liars Beth had ever known. He was also making her think deliciously naughty things. “Research and development?” she asked, forcing her thoughts out of the bedroom. “Research and development of what?”

  “Well, toys, of course. It’s a big job.” He spread his long fingers out as he spoke. Beth listened with only a fragment of her mind. The rest of it was concentrating on those long, almost elegant fingers, imagining them touching, pinching…probing…

  “…world population isn’t shrinking, you know. I got my business degree at Harvard and finished up the MBA at Stanford, but I’ve always been more interested in research and
development of new toys than the actual distribution.”

  What did he say? Beth’s gaze flew from his fingers to his face. “Harvard? Stanford?” At least when he told a story, it was a good one. “So, do you actually do all this research and development at the North Pole?” He couldn’t be serious… She glanced around the room, wondering if she might need to defend herself from a complete nutcase.

  Of course, depending on his intentions, she wasn’t all that certain she’d defend too hard. She blinked, suddenly aware she hadn’t thought of what’s-his-name in ages.

  Dominic laughed, a deep, mellow, sexy laugh that sent shivers along Beth’s spine. “Of course not, silly. All that North Pole stuff is just to keep the fantasy alive for the kids, though I must admit, children appear to be a lot more cynical than when I was young. I own the Rudolph Toys chain. We’re international, you know.” The pride in his voice was typical male. Beth found it endearing.

  She was also completely familiar with Rudolph Toys. She even had stock in the company—one of the few stocks she owned that actually made money.

  “Of course, we sell a lot of our product, but most of it is funneled through the Santa Claus franchise for Christmas deliveries. Commercial sales cover the costs of answering all the requests we get on the letters to Santa. Tonight was a test run for the seven of us in this generation who had a shot at the Santa Claus title and position. Usually, if you aren’t selected, the reindeer immediately take you back to headquarters. It’s all done by very old magic, but unfortunately, I’d gotten out of the sleigh to pick up a bell that fell off the harness. I made a consummate error by not keeping contact with the sleigh, so when it was called back, it went without me. That’s how I ended up stranded on your roof.”

  “Reindeer?” Beth swallowed. “Magic?”

  Dominic yawned. “You know, little flying beasts that carry Santa’s sleigh?” He yawned again and smiled at her. “Would it be asking too much to let me spend a few hours on your couch? I’m beat, and it’s going to take a call into headquarters to see if they can arrange transportation home for me.” He shook his head, his expression rueful. “I feel like such an idiot. This is a terrible time to screw up. I doubt anyone’s even answering the phones.”