Christmas With You

by Tracey Alvarez

  Her breath wheezed in an out, and she shook her head. Words were waaay beyond her while he held her close, a palm stroking down her arm.

  Kip glared at Dudley, but the pony just stared at them blandly while chewing on a mouthful of grass.

  “He was probably checking to see if you had any hidden food.”

  “In my hoo-ha?”

  His gaze whipped away from the pony and returned to her. Being intimately nosed by a pony seemed a lot less invasive than Kip’s hot stare. A pulse throbbed under the tanned skin of his temple, and the hand resting on her hipbone tightened.

  “Can’t blame a guy for trying,” he said.

  His eyes implied he also wouldn’t mind checking her hoo-ha, and dear Lord, a flush of wetness flooded her at the thought.

  She squeezed her legs together, and Kip’s corresponding muscles under her tensed. She hoped like hell the velvet fabric of her dress was thick enough to disguise her nipples, which were as hard as chips of rock candy.

  “Are you sure he didn’t bite you? Maybe I should check.”

  Kip’s Santa-hat-covered head buried between her thighs. Trying not to picture it only encouraged her brain to conjure up even more graphic images. Double-dammit.

  Shifting restlessly, she said, “Maybe you should.”

  The heat in Kip’s blue gaze flared into predatory awareness. “This is one of your Christmas missions, isn’t it?” He ran a hand up her back, his long fingers closing gently around her neck.

  “Missions? Oh. A visit to Santa.”

  His chuckle was warm and intimate. “Since you’re already on my knee, why don’t you tell me exactly what you want for Christmas?”

  Oh, it’d become painfully obvious what she wanted for Christmas, what she wanted right now. Her mouth went parchment dry. “Kip…”

  “Tell Santa, sweetheart.” His fingers stroked the side of her throat, sending delicious shivers swirling through her.

  Hell. She couldn’t deny it, since she all but panted in his arms. Horny elf very badly wanted to have sexy Santa’s body plastered up against hers.

  “You, Kip. I want you for Christmas.”

  A flash of teeth showed beneath the curly white beard. “You’re number one on my list, too, but I don’t think I can wait four more days—let’s go.” He lifted her off his knee.

  Carly glanced around. They were the only ones left in the yard. The rumble of conversation drifted out through the open doors of the community hall. Apparently, the noise inside had masked her earlier squeal of surprise. “We can’t just leave…don’t you have to take Dudley back?”

  Kip got to his feet. “I’ll deal with the pony later.” He grabbed her hand and towed her across the yard to the gate, where a path led around the side of the building. “We’re not leaving yet, anyway.”

  ***

  By the time Kip led her into a narrow corridor and down to a door marked Janitor, Carly’s heart pa-rup-pa-pa-pummed faster than the little drummer boy’s drum. With one hand still locked around her wrist—as if she was a flight risk!—Kip dragged out a key on a length of cord from under his Santa jacket.

  “Stashed a change of clothes in here earlier.” He tugged off his hat and beard so he could slip the key over his head. “And the room doesn’t have any windows for peeping Toms to get a thrill.” He cut her a grin filled with the promise of panty-melting things to come.

  “You’re such a bad Santa,” she said.

  He unlocked the door and pulled her inside, tossing the hat, beard, and key onto the floor. As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, he crowded her into the small section of wall between the exit door and a huge metal shelving unit. His hand scrabbled beside her shoulder. Fluorescent lights above them blinked on.

  “Hey—?”

  Kip silenced her protest with a quick but searing kiss, which left her knees wobbling.

  “I am not,” he muttered against her mouth, “missing out on seeing an Elvish hoo-ha. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity…”

  Her “Elvish hoo-ha” throbbed in response, and it took every minute scrap of willpower she had not to yank up her skirt and drag his hand between her legs to ease it.

  “Goes both ways,” she gasped. “I want to see what’s hiding under those Santa pants.”

  A salacious grin widened on Kip’s face. “It’s not a candy cane, I can tell you that much.”

  He guided her hand off his shoulder and down over the bulge of his fake belly to the rigid length tenting the soft fabric.

  Her fingers closed around his cock, which was much, much harder than a candy cane. She stroked him through the layers, and a guttural moan wrenched from his mouth as his hips jerked forward. Kip cupped her jaw and kissed her again, taking her far away from the lemony scent of cleaning products and the cool wall at her back.

  Sifting her fingers through his hair, she darted her tongue into his mouth. She could kiss this man for hours and not get weary of exploring every inch of him. The prickle of day-old stubble scraped against her as he adjusted the angle of his lips and deepened the kiss even more.

  His hand skimmed over her ribs and brushed the underside of her breast. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d wanted a man to touch her so badly. Two fingers scissored the hard bud of her nipple, capturing both her dress and silky bra cup between them, drawing a ragged moan from deep inside her. The man had some magic moves. He trailed kisses down the line of her throat, his tongue flickering over the swell of her breasts.

  Tugging the stretchy fabric of her dress to one side, Kip exposed her nipple, blowing against it as it tightened even further.

  “Perfect.”

  His lips closed over her, sucking the sensitive flesh into his hot mouth. Pleasure fired through her body on a direct path to her womb, as if she’d plugged in to a low-level electrical current. Kip switched to her other breast, his hands skimming under her skirt, toying with the edge of her panties, humming approval low in his throat as he cupped her and found her wet.

  Breaths rising and falling in harsh pants, Carly slumped against the wall, fisting her hands in Kip’s hair again. The poor guy would be bald if she kept this up.

  After driving her half out of her mind, he allowed her nipple to slide out of his mouth with a moist pop. Then Kip dropped to his knees and tugged her panties down, lifting her feet, one at a time, to remove them from around her ankles. Instead of releasing her, he draped her leg over his shoulder, glancing up at her with a stare hot enough to melt the North Pole.

  “Lift up your skirt.”

  Her fingers closed around the hem of her dress and inched it up. More moisture pooled between her legs. She squeezed her internal muscles, unable to bear pulling the skirt higher and exposing how much she wanted him.

  “Let me see you.” The rawness of his voice swept another flood of heat and lust through her system. “I need to see your sweet pussy, and God, I’ve gotta taste you.”

  Carly bunched her skirt up to her waist, her lungs struggling to suck in enough oxygen. Kip’s groan and the lightest of touches on her inner thigh were enough to set her trembling. He edged closer, using one big hand to pin her hip to the wall.

  “I’m really off the good-girl list now,” she said.

  “Think Santa will make an exception, seeing as how fucking beautiful you are right now.”

  He stroked her soft curls. She jerked forward, all but begging him to put his mouth where his fingers rested. Warm breath misted against her thigh, and he parted her with thumb and forefinger, circling his wicked tongue once around her clit—then raising his gaze above the scrunched folds of her dress as if to gauge her reaction.

  Heart hammering, Carly stared down at him, unable to speak from the throb of blood pounding in her ears, pounding through her veins, pounding straight down to the bundle of nerves screaming for his attention.

  Kip dipped a finger inside her, just enough to make her squirm with the delicious feel of penetration.

  “Tell me what you want, baby.”

&nbs
p; “Your mouth…” She braced a hand against the metal shelf beside her. “Your mouth on me.”

  “Here?” He bent, closing his lips on her upper thigh and sucking hard. Releasing her skin, he soothed the spot with a kiss. “Or here?” He lightly pinched her clit until he drew a gut-wrenching moan from her, and she thrust helplessly toward his face.

  “Please, Kip—anywhere, everywhere.”

  With a rough chuckle, he finally—finally—buried his face between her legs and gave her what she wanted.

  Time spun away as he worked her to higher peaks. With one hand fisted in his hair, keeping him right where she needed him, she gripped the shelf with the other, her legs barely supporting her. Kip and his amazing mouth slammed her into out-of-body bliss. He licked, sucked, devoured her, until an orgasm came from nowhere, propelling her over the edge.

  Before she could collapse into a pool of sated sweetness, Kip stood and gathered her into his arms.

  “I’ve got you, sweetheart.” He set his mouth on hers, filling her senses with her musky taste.

  Carly raked a hand over his ridiculously squishy fake belly. Nothing ridiculous or squishy or fake in his baggy red pants, though. Her insides gave a long, throbbing squeeze. Breaking the kiss, she rubbed her thumb around the head of his cock.

  “Kip, I want you to make lo—”

  A loud knock on the door cut off her request.

  “Yo, Kip?”

  Crap—Ben! Her fingers tightened on Kip’s erection. He grunted, and his hands, still on her bare bottom, clamped down.

  Turning his face toward the door, he sucked in a breath. “Whaddya want? I’m getting changed.”

  “Are you, now?” A snort of laughter from the other side of the door. “Have you seen Carly?”

  Kip’s eyes widened. He shot her a quick grin before slapping a hand on the light switch. The tiny room went dark.

  “Nope. Can’t say I have.”

  “Right.” A brief pause. “Well, if you do see her, tell her West and Del are looking for her.”

  The hand on her bottom squeezed gently, so she squeezed her hand gently back…Kip’s intake of air sounded loud in the small room.

  “Will do,” he rasped.

  A quiet snicker came from outside and then the squeak of footsteps faded as Ben walked away. Kip’s hand closed over hers.

  “As much as I’d love to follow where this is leading,” he murmured in the dark, removing her hand from his cock. “I don’t have a condom tucked away in my Santa suit, and your brothers will kill me if they find us in here.”

  She swallowed a disappointed wail. Screw her brothers. And screw not having a condom. Carly tugged her dress into place, the velvet tickling her bare skin. Oh! Her panties were somewhere on the floor.

  “I, ah, need the light on,” she said.

  He flicked the switch, and she blinked away colored stars. Kip dangled her panties in front of her nose.

  “Looking for these?” He backed her up against the wall for a last hot kiss. “Rain check on the making love to you part?”

  Her face flamed as she snatched her panties from his hand and tugged them on.

  One glance at his bluer-than-blue eyes and she was sunk. She sighed and nodded. Denying she wanted him in her bed, in her, was as pointless as denying Christmas would arrive in four short days.

  Chapter 7

  Tending bar one small memory away from a constant hard-on was challenging, to say the least, and Kip was grateful for the short apron tied around his hips.

  He slid over Mrs. T’s usual tipple of gin and tonic to West, who’d been commandeered as her personal waiter, and then grabbed another two glasses to fulfil the next order of Jack-and-ginger-no-ice, and two Speight’s. Due South’s door opened to a cacophony of feminine laughter, local women pouring into the bar. Piper, Shaye, Kezia—and, oh, bugger it, his three sisters—plus four other regulars, and Carly. Carly with her braids freed into long, loose waves, wearing a dark-blue dress with a belt, a thin gold chain around one slender ankle, and red polish on her toenails.

  Details he’d never notice about any other woman in the rowdy group, but then, he couldn’t get Carly’s more intimate details off his mind, either. The addicting taste of her as she’d sobbed out her release, the tiny strawberry birthmark close to her pretty pale-red pubic hair, the way she’d ridden his mouth like a rodeo queen.

  Rock hard cock in three…two…one. Kip moved closer to the bar, so when the women crowded around it, his sisters wouldn’t spot him panting over his co-worker like a horny teenager.

  “Ladies,” he said, measuring out the Jack Daniels and tipping it into the glass. “Take a seat, and I’ll grab your orders in a moment.”

  Carly shot him a short smile and glanced away again, a rosy blush appearing on her cheeks. The women headed for a large table, except for two of his sisters.

  “Kipper, you look exhausted.” Vee propped her elbows on the bar and leaned her chin on her palms. “Are you working too hard tonight? Missing Carly beside you?”

  Vee blinked innocently, but Kip wasn’t fooled for a second.

  “Where are the kids?” Safer to change the subject since his jeans were currently cutting off circulation to a certain area.

  Lizzie draped her arm over Vee’s shoulder. “Mum and Dad are on babysitting duty because the girls asked us here for Christmas drinkie-poos. Expect some wild behavior tonight; our men are arriving tomorrow.”

  Vee’s mouth thinned to a straight line, her jaw turning rigid. Lizzie had a way of blurting out things without thinking of other people’s feelings—like how Vee’s ex-fiancé wouldn’t be joining her this Christmas.

  “You all have fun, then. I’ll drive you home after my shift ends.”

  Vee’s mouth softened, her eyes growing hopeful.

  Kip bid a silent goodbye to plans of sneaking over to Carly’s house and into her bed. He sighed. “And then you can make popcorn, and we’ll watch freaking Die Hard…again.”

  Vee grinned and held out a fist for him to bump.

  Lizzie rolled her eyes. “You could at least choose a nice Christmas movie, like A Wonderful Life.”

  Kip shooed them away from the bar, Vee making finger-down-throat gestures and Lizzie laughing.

  Sometimes, his sisters drove him insane, but at other times, he missed them like crazy, so he’d spend some time with them while they were here. Even if it did mean he wouldn’t get any action tonight.

  ***

  Maybe a girls’ night out after being sexed up in a janitor’s closet hadn’t been the wisest idea. But saying no to Kip’s three sisters had been impossible—especially after Piper butted in with her no-bullcrap, ex-cop’s tone and insisted Carly had to come.

  So, there she was, squeezed like strawberry preserve in a sandwich between two blondes—Erin, The Great Flat White Cafe’s proprietor, and Bree Findlow, the town’s gorgeous little gift shop/art gallery owner.

  Blonde surfer-dude Zach, Due South bar’s newest recruit, working a trial period over his summer university break, had taken orders for their table’s last round of the night. The pub had mostly emptied out, except for their boisterous table, and hell, she was having fun. The girls were a hoot; although, she’d spent the last two hours trying not to glance over at the bar where Kip—avoiding their table as if they were plague carriers—kept the drinks flowing.

  “Aw, baby brother’s come for a visit,” said Tara.

  Kip passed out glasses and bottles from his tray.

  “Have you been avoiding us, Kip?” asked Tarryn, the local Department of Conservation worker. She leaned forward, fluttering her eyelashes. “Are we that scary?”

  “Bloody terrifying.” Kip handed over her beer. “And I don’t think my insurance covers being eaten alive.”

  Whoops erupted around the table, and Kip smiled his thigh-clenching smile.

  Carly’s stomach turned a slow roll, spilling a heated wash through her—a poisonous mixture of desire and possessiveness. She blinked over at him as he continued
to serve drinks. Possessive? She wasn’t possessive about anything; she didn’t get attached to stuff.

  Growing up on Air Force bases and moving around with parents who liked to travel light, she’d learned this lesson early. She’d never collected trading cards or Beanie Babies. She didn’t care about packing up her life in LA and flying to New Zealand to be with her family—because that’s the other thing she’d figured out. Family was the only thing worth getting attached to, and family was the one thing that could suddenly be taken away. She didn’t get attached to stuff, but it looked as if she’d somehow started to form an attachment to Kip Sullivan.

  Not a good idea, zoomie. Not a good idea at all.

  “Pinot gris.”

  His voice broke through her mental ramblings, and she glanced up from where she’d been tearing strips off a cocktail napkin.

  “Thanks.” She took the wine from his hand, the swift brush of his fingers against hers sending a ripple of awareness through her.

  His gaze swept over her face—nothing wayward or flirtatious in his expression—but the shimmer of hot blood still climbed up her throat. How could she forget that hours earlier, the man had two of those fingers buried deep inside her, thrusting her headlong into the most incredible orgasm. The most incredible, knee-trembling bona-fide world-class-champion of orgasms.

  Carly turned her face away and took a gulp of her drink. She lowered the glass to find Lizzie staring at her like a scientist discovering the missing link. Crap.

  Lizzie grabbed Kip’s wrist as he turned to go back to the bar. “Come sit with us a moment. Vee—go get baby brother a beer; we need to celebrate his birthday in three days’.”

  More whoops and teasing exploded around the table, as Vee got up and hurried off.

  Kip looked like a deer caught in the headlights, or, to use a more Kiwi analogy, a possum caught in a hunter’s spotlight. He tried to tug his wrist away, but Lizzie had a good grip on him.

  “I’m working,” he said. “I can’t stop for a drink.”

  “Yeah, you can. Take a break, Sullivan,” hollered West from behind the bar. “Sit with the ladies.”