Naughty or Nice: 6 Short & Sexy Holiday Reads

by Jessie Logan

  Naughty or

  Nice

  6 Sexy Holiday Short Stories

  Tracey Alvarez

  Icon Publishing

  New Zealand

  Naughty or Nice

  Copyright © 2016 by Jessie Logan.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Book Layout ©2013 BookDesignTemplates.com

  Cover Art by Kellie Dennis at Book Cover by Design

  www.bookcoverbydesign.co.uk

  Naughty or Nice – Jessie Logan -- 1st ed.

  Contents

  Naughty or Nice

  Just Like Santa

  Baby, it’s Cold Outside

  Home for Christmas

  The Mysteries of Faith

  Secret Santa

  Meet the Author

  Want to know when Jessie Logan has a new flirty, dirty book out? She’ll only e-mail you when she does or if she has other news like a sale or special promotion.

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  Satisfy your cravings with these 6 flirty, dirty, and decadently more-ish short Holiday treats.

  Naughty or Nice (M/F)

  When twelve days of Christmas giving doesn’t help Lily gain her co-worker’s attention, maybe an outrageously sexy gift will.

  Just Like Santa (F/F)

  A school teacher finds some scandalous holiday satisfaction with her student’s aunt and her willing friends.

  Baby, it’s Cold Outside (M/F)

  Stranded in a blizzard with a younger man, what’s a red-blooded woman to do except turn up the heat?

  Home for Christmas (M/F)

  A poignant reunion between husband and wife with a surprise in store…

  The Mysteries of Faith (F/F)

  What happens when your best friend marries the man of her dreams, when only days ago she was in your bed?

  Secret Santa (M/F)

  Sophie’s Secret Santa gift has some unexpected and exciting consequences…the type of delicious consequences that’d see a girl permanently on Santa’s naughty list.

  Pick up a copy today and ring in the Holidays with a…lusty moan.

  Naughty or Nice

  Lily glances at the still-empty cubicles that wait for the morning rush of junior accountants to stumble in. She’s driven through sleet and snow to arrive thirty minutes early because today is the day. Christmas Eve. And she has a plan. One last, desperate shot at having a Happy Holiday.

  She extracts a wisp of black lace and satin from her handbag, slipping it into the top drawer of Carl’s desk. Christmas is all about giving, after all.

  For the past eleven days, she’s left a little gift somewhere in Carl’s cubicle. A holiday-themed mug, mistletoe-printed socks—hint, hint—a Christmas wreath made from his favorite candies.

  Hell, one morning, she even left an envelope of freshly collected flies for the Venus Flytrap he keeps on his desk. That might have been interpreted as a little bit weird, but Lily suspects Carl is quirky and fun enough to find it thoughtful. The Flytrap still sits on his desk, and she wonders if he appreciates the grossness of her dedication.

  Well, at least one of them looks perky and satisfied.

  Perhaps now, if he were at all interested, something would happen. God knows, she isn’t in the habit of leaving underwear inside a co-worker’s desk. But if the end justifies the means…and short of knocking Carl’s six-foot-three, ripped body to the floor and pouncing on him, she couldn’t think of another way to attract his attention.

  Other than, you know, actually growing some balls and asking him out. Lily wrinkles her nose and slides the desk drawer shut. Yeah, it’s the Silly Season, but let’s not get crazy.

  She hurries back to her position at reception, her pussy damp from the thrill of being panty-less in an office environment.

  Forty minutes later, Carl Bradley stalks from the elevator into reception. He’s chatting to one of the other junior accountants, Angela. She stares up at him like she wants to truss him and serve him for Christmas dinner tomorrow. Lily relates.

  But Carl only smiles politely at the perky blonde with the double-D tits, the newspaper he holds tapping a staccato on his thigh. The fingers clasped around the paper are strong and tanned, as are the corded muscles of his forearms because the sleeves of Carl’s crisp white business shirt are, as usual, rolled up to the elbows. Angela lays her hand on his arm and quickly removes it again. Women like Angela know how to flirt, how to gauge a man’s interest, how to capitalize on that interest.

  Women like Lily don’t.

  Her stomach lurches, swirling with lust and the acidic seeds of jealousy. What would it feel like, digging her fingers into all that arm-porn as he slammed into her over and over? What would those long fingers feel like stroking her skin, sliding through her wetness to thrust into her quivering channel? A pleasurable warmth seeps downward.

  Carl says, “Gotta go,” and dismisses Angela with a follow-up token, “Happy Holidays.” Then his blue eyes cut laser-hot around to her, seated behind the reception desk.

  He strides over, bringing with him a wash of sandalwood cologne that makes her toes curl. Close up, she can see a few damp spots in his almost-too-long-to-be-considered-business-like, dark hair. It must still be snowing outside.

  “Morning, Lily. Any messages for me?”

  Yeah. There’s a twenty-six-year-old woman sitting right in front of you who’s desperate to fuck you boneless.

  “Not today,” she says. And then, because she can’t resist his deep, sexy voice. “Got any naughty or nice plans for the holidays…Carl?” She loves saying his name; it gives her a shivery rush in all the right places.

  A dimple appears in his cheek, followed by a grin she’d give up her Christmas bonus to wake up to tomorrow morning. So unfair. Heat explodes under her red silk shirt, scalding her breasts as it works upward toward her throat. But for the first time since Lily started working at Kingston & Sons just before Thanksgiving, she has Carl’s one-hundred-percent focus.

  “A guy could wish for naughty,” he says, and his eyes crinkle in the corners adding to all the hot adorableness. “But I’m afraid I’ve only got nice planned, with Netflix and a couple of beers.”

  She can work with nice…but one of the Kingston sons appears in his office doorway and crooks his finger. Carl offers her a distracted smile and turns away, leaving her with only the view of his truly superior ass striding into his boss’s office.

  Lily sighs. It’s enough to give a girl blue balls. Does she have a sign around her neck? One saying, “Flirt but keep your distance.” Or maybe she really is the invisible woman.

  And it isn’t just Carl who doesn’t notice her. When she divorced Jason after catching him cock-deep in a college senior with pouty lips and enthusiastically bouncy tits, Lily became determined to make lemonade out of the lemons she was left to suck on. She’d hidden behind her husband’s boorishness and limeligh
t-seeking behavior for years, content to fade away into insignificance.

  A new job in a new city was meant to be her re-emergence into the sun. But so far, she still seemed to be wearing a Cloak of Invisibility. Even when she’d promised herself at the office Christmas party last week that she’d take the opportunity to talk to Carl. Didn’t happen. Instead, she found herself shuffled to the back wall and trapped there between Dave from Accounts Payable in a reindeer sweater, and Amanda her co-receptionist, who’d apparently had too much of the holiday punch.

  The twelve anonymous gifts were her last attempt before she’d roll with the ego-punch of Carl’s disinterest and in the New Year, direct her attention elsewhere. Lily Turner has no intention on wasting another three years of her life masturbating in secrecy, so as not to offend a man by informing him there’s more to good sex than putting body part A into body slot B. That continual humping and “Oh baby, I’m gonna make you come,” is no substitute for a man who knows his way around a woman’s pussy. That she wants—no, deserves—a man who doesn’t require step-by-step instructions on how to fuck her to an orgasm so powerful that the lawyer’s office on the floor above will know his name.

  Will that man be Carl Bradley? Lily slips on her headset and connects with an incoming call. Who knows?

  The traffic outside rumbles, cab horns honking up Third, carrying tourists and locals alike uptown past Bloomie’s dazzling holiday lights. Lily’s co-workers swarm through reception, wishing each other “Happy Holidays”. She smiles and waves, politely ignoring them when they tell her she should get out of there and paint the town red. Christmas red. Like she isn’t going to go home to her tiny apartment and sleep alone in her bed. But not with visions of sugarplums in her head. Oh, no. Tonight, she’ll be dreaming of something—or someone—else.

  A someone who must have left early while she was on a restroom break. Without her panties. Let’s not forget that pertinent and now embarrassing fact.

  Forget him, it’s not going to happen. She’ll complete one last task before returning home to her empty, empty apartment. Lily walks into the tiny room that holds the copy machine and nearly trips over someone kneeling just inside the door.

  She skitters to a halt. “Oops, sorry.”

  Carl’s head is at her crotch level, thick hair tousled like he’s been running his fingers through it. For a moment, his gaze remains on his untied shoe, the laces draped over the polished linoleum. Then he looks up, up, up her bare legs and his eyes meet hers.

  “Lily.”

  His voice is roughly textured and layers her name with a meaning she can’t quite decipher. But he sees me, she thinks, her heart a thudding one-two punch against her ribcage. I think he really sees me.

  Doubt raises its sly head. But does he want you or is that a wish as fanciful as Santa Claus? Her gaze drops to the red, patent-leather ankle boots she chose to wear on impulse. The polished linoleum shines a distorted reflection of her bare calves, her bare thighs, her bare…

  Oh God! Is that what he’s looking at?

  She turns away and opens the copy machine’s lid. Her arm muscles jump uncontrollably, spreading to her fingers, and she nearly drops the documents that require copying.

  A pair of lacy panties—her panties—appear in front of her face, dangling off one masculine finger. Though no part of him touches her, she knows Carl’s standing right behind her. His breath whispers against her nape, fanning the heat down from her cheeks, driving it lower and lower until it flares into fire deep inside.

  “So silky smooth,” he says, hypnotizing her with his raspy tone.

  Fluorescent light dances off the black scrap of fabric as the panties spin in lazy circles.

  “So fucking sexy.” Teasing.

  She closes her eyes, and the cool kiss of satin briefly touches her cheek.

  “Like their owner.” Confident.

  The hum of the resting copy machine drowns out her gasp. The spicy scent of him relegates the smell of toner and freshly copied papers to background distractions.

  “If I hadn’t already figured out who was leaving me gifts, this was a giveaway. They smell like you.”

  A ragged inhale, and Lily knows, somehow, that he’s pressing her panties to his nose.

  Fingertips trace the ridge of her collarbone to a pulse flickering at the base of her neck. She shivers as his touch rests over the throb of blood singing in her veins.

  “Your heart is beating so fast. Am I scaring you?”

  “I’m not scared.”

  Which is ninety-nine percent truth. Carl’s lips, peach-skin soft, replace his fingers.

  She gasps, losing her voice completely as his big body pins her between it and the copy machine. Her ass connects with his thigh, causing a sheet of paper to crumple in her fist. Then the length of his cock, unrepentant and boldly defined, presses into her lower back while he’s curving around her to flick his tongue against her pulse.

  “Do you want me then?” he asks.

  She can’t deny her nipples are hot little barbs, chafing against her bra. He eases her silk shirt from her waistband and slides a hand around her front to find the buttons. One hand keeps their bodies fused together, his other deftly opens her shirt.

  “Do you want me, Lily?” he asks again, his touch a torturous eyelash width away from her breasts.

  Bastard. A smile curves her mouth. She’s enjoying this game, but she won’t be a bystander at her own seduction.

  “Yes. But how badly do you want me?” She slips a hand between them, dragging her fingernails gently over the fly of his suit pants. Right along his most impressive hard-on. There is some satisfaction in his ragged inhale.

  “Enough to fuck you right here.”

  He spins her around to face him, plunging his hands into her hair, his mouth wet and urgent, brooking no resistance. Her breasts spill heavily into his palms as he tugs down her bra cups. Unable to prevent a moan slipping between her teeth as the cool air sweeps over her nakedness, Lily shudders in anticipation, arching toward him.

  His tongue slicks fiery trails along her breastbone, sucks at the tender fullness of her breasts, and then circles around and around each nipple, never reaching the sensitive center. Moisture pools between the folds of her pussy.

  Her pride wavers on the brink of total submission. She studies the tip of his tongue through a lust-misted haze as it laps gently at the underside of her breast. Then he leans forward, taking her nipple into his hot mouth. Lily surrenders to the intense pleasure of his rhythmic sucking, her fingers roaming restlessly over his scalp.

  Carl pulls away. She cries out in deprivation, but he is merciless. She is spun toward the copy machine again and her stomach presses into its hard edge. Her breasts tingle as they flatten against the glass top. He tugs her skirt up and bunches it over her hips. Again, a chill breeze caresses her naked skin, this time in a more intimate area.

  One finger traces a path down the line of her spine and between her ass cheeks, tickling but not parting her soft brown curls. His touch makes her tilt her hips backward to try to entrap his finger in moist depths. He moves away with a chuckle.

  “Patience,” he says.

  Fuck patience. She’s been patient for too long.

  Clothing rustles, and she allows her breath to escape in a sigh. The agonizing wait will be over soon. Carl parts her legs with one big hand, and teeth gently nip her flesh.

  The sigh turns into a needy moan as his tongue sears down to nuzzle her pussy juices. A spectrum of different sensations vie within her for domination. He licks, nibbles, and sucks each sensitive inch of her. No fold is safe from the slow sweep of his tongue. Her cunt throbs as he delves around her opening. He treats her clit like his own personal Tootsie Pop, driving her half out of her mind as he wraps his lips around it over and over. She’s heard the partners praise Carl on his work ethic and his attention to detail, but sweet baby Jesus, he puts just as much dedication into worshiping her cunt.

  She clutches the sides of the copy machine, th
ankful for its sturdy support as the building tension centered in her swollen clit saps the strength from her legs.

  “Fuck me.” She’s beyond caring that her voice sounds raw and desperate. Anything to have his cock filling up her emptiness. Anything to have the delicious texture of real flesh thrusting inside her. “Now.”

  The hiss of a zipper. His tongue flicks once more over her clit then is gone. Lily’s breasts throb on the copy machine’s glass top, her mind throbs as seconds trudge past, and her pussy throbs as finally, the smooth head of his cock nestles against her opening. She tries to back into him, to force him deeper, but his fingers dig into her hips, making her wait. Making her suffer. He inches forward as if testing the water, concerned it’ll be cold.

  “Damn it, Carl Bradley, will you please fuck me?” she says.

  He obliges and pistons his hips forward. His cock divides her and then is snugly trapped within her tight walls. The harsh rasp of his breath is in her ear as he kisses her shoulder. She squeezes her internal muscles around him, inciting him to continue. He thrusts slowly and steadily, her slickness easing the way and adding to the sensuality of his rhythmic strokes. But once the delicious friction awakens the thirst in them both, he slams into her faster and faster.

  His hand is between her belly and the copy machine, massaging her clit in small circles, making her cry out. Her orgasm builds relentlessly and then churns through her, a wailing tsunami of pleasure that causes her palm to slam down on the yellow operating button. Carl continues to thrust his cock, pounding relentlessly until with a growl his body ripples and spasms into her one last time.

  The whirring and flashing lights finally distracts her from the enjoyable sensation of kisses raining down on her nape, from the satisfactory weight of a half-naked man with his thick cock still buried inside her.

  Lily leans over and switches off the copier. In the catch tray is a small pile of paper, each with a perfect freeze frame of her flattened breasts.