Sexy Holiday Delights

by Shara Azod

  Damn it, Carson seemed to know what was going through her mind because the man was smirking as he sat in her chair. God, this was just too humiliating.

  “Fine,” she breathed out. “You win. I’ll be your whore if you agree to bankroll Harmony House.”

  “Come here, Quinn.” She was so not prepared for the deepness of his voice when he reduced it to a sexy purr. Against her will, her panties moistened, her nipples getting rock hard.

  With none of the anger she’d felt previously, she dragged her feet until she was standing right in front of him. “I said I’d do it,” she muttered, still a little defiant. “I’ll come see you tonight, or whatever.”

  He chuckled at that. And here she’d thought she was being reasonable. Accommodating even.

  “Sit on my lap,” he purred, patting his thighs. “Let’s discuss terms.”

  Quinn didn’t have time for this shit! Gia was in jail, Marsia was out doing God knows what. Damn it, why couldn’t he just write a check or whatever and let her deal with this later? But he held all the cards. There was little she could do but comply. With an inhaled breath for control, she perched on the very edge of his legs, placing most of her weight on her own feet. It was a tricky balancing act, but she managed.

  Of course Carson wouldn’t allow her some dignity. As if she weighed nothing at all, he picked her up and deposited her dead center on his lap, right on top of that impressive bulge she’d witnessed in his office a day ago.

  “Now, that’s better.” Geez, his voice was even more deadly so close to her ear. No way those arms should feel this good wrapped around her. “Now, repeat after me—I am no man’s whore.”

  Wait—what? The very nature of what he was suggesting was pay to play, the definition of whoredom. She opened her mouth to argue, but then she felt a very warm, very large hand creeping up her thigh.

  “What are you doing?” she gasped, then remembered she should’ve really been struggling at least a little bit, right? But…but…it just felt really good, that slow deliberate caress.

  “I said, repeat after me,” he instructed, his hand reaching the crotch of her panties. “I am no man’s whore.” Oh God, oh sweet merciful God, the man pressed his thumb down with deadly accuracy, right on her clit. “Say it, Quinn.”

  “I am no man’s—oh!” Without warning, he pulled aside her panties, slipped his finger inside her weeping cunt.

  “Not quite, but close enough.” Another finger joined the first, pressing up at her sweet spot. “You aren’t a wore, but you are mine. I will make sure your Gia is free, but you will not come to me when I crook my finger. Oh, no. You will pack right now and reside in my apartment with me until further notice. Clear?” Again, his voice was a gravelly drawl right at her ear. Had she ever realized how sensitive she was to a man’s voice? She’d have to remember that for the future so she could shore up the weakness.

  Quinn wanted to argue, needed to, but those fingers felt so damn good stroking her just right. The feel of his lips on the sensitive skin of her neck made her ache twice as much. Nothing was more important at that moment than rocking to his wicked strokes, getting ever closer to where she wanted to be.

  “Is that clear, Quinn?” he demanded, pressing harder, stroking faster.

  “Yes!” Okay, she really hadn’t meant to say that, but what the hell else was a woman supposed to say as she came?

  Chapter Four

  Carson barely had time to lick Quinn’s sweet honey from his fingers before he had to set her on her feet and call an attorney. The sooner he took care of this, the sooner he could have her in his bed where she belonged. Never mind the fact he’d actually ordered her to move into his home—his fucking home. That was something he never did. It was just he didn’t want to think of her in a place like the one he’d purchased for Kaitlyn, and he didn’t want to sneak in and out of this place. His presence was apparently unusual. He was guessing women living in a women’s shelter didn’t want a man hanging around.

  So it was his home then.

  “What’s this Gia woman’s full name?” he barked without really meaning to as he dialed one of his attorney’s private lines.

  “Gia Markham,” she replied immediately. “And I’m not moving into your place.”

  Yes, she was. Tabling the argument until he gave the attorney the applicable information, he turned to her as he ended the call, determined to keep this confrontation short. His cock throbbed like crazy, his head aching from wanting her so much, too much. Besides, he wasn’t altogether certain he had enough blood left flowing upward to have an intelligent argument with her. He needed this woman. Badly.

  “Go pack. You can come back here during the day, but your nights belong to me.” When she opened her mouth, he interjected before she could speak, “When I want, how I want. That was the deal.”

  That seemed to work.

  “Stay here,” she breathed out in frustration. “Do not go out there with the others.”

  He had no intention of doing so. “Don’t keep me waiting or I’ll fuck you right here.” And he would too. He was fast approaching the end of his limit.

  Thank God he’d taken a chauffeured car. He doubted very much he’d have the patience to navigate the crowded streets with her so close. God, he needed to explore every delicious inch of her. He found himself pacing by the time she returned, one bag in hand. Either she thought he was going to get tired of her rather quickly or she was planning on leaving him sooner rather than later.

  She’d learn.

  “Let’s go.” He didn’t touch her as they made their way to the front door. Too many eyes. Heaven knew all he wanted to do was throw her over his shoulder and carry her away as fast as he could, but he wasn’t a complete asshole. Some of the woman watching would probably take that the wrong way.

  But once she was safely in the back seat with him, all bets were off. Yes, he wanted to wait until they got to a bed, but damn it, the way her hips swayed when she walked, the way she bit at her plump bottom lip when she was nervous, the way her very demeanor challenged him were all too much. As soon as the car started, he pulled her into his lap, his lips taking hers hungrily.

  For several moments, Quinn seemed not to know how to react. Her body stiffened and she gasped in surprise. Just as well because it gave him the chance to thrust his tongue into her mouth, just the way he wanted to do with his cock. Having her take him between those sweet lips would be a wet dream come true, but there were other, more pressing places he needed to get his cock.

  As if it knew Carson was considering taking it out, his cock twitched painfully against his pants. So, to ease his discomfort, he pulled her into his lap, pushing her skirt high as he made her straddle him. The second his linen-embraced cock touched her silk, she jerked like she’d been hit. Only instead of slapping him again, Quinn gripped the material of his jacket with a death grip. Then she slid down his length slowly, as if testing the waters.

  They both moaned deep as their bodies meshed tightly against one another. Absolute, fucking heaven.

  The exquisite feel of her, the unrestrained and completely unplanned reactions she gave were more of an aphrodisiac than anything Kaitlyn had ever done for him. Hell, no woman had ever affected him like this. Her raw, honest sensuality fed his hunger more than anything else could. The woman ground against him like she was begging to be a part of him, and damn it, he needed that in the worst way. If he didn’t have her right this second, he knew he would die. And if he died without sampling that sweet body of hers, he’d be condemned to hell.

  With a growl, he unfastened his pants, letting his cock free on a groan of relief. One that was short-lived when it mashed against her scantily clad sex. He actually felt her wetness through her panties! Panties that would soon be a thing of the past. He needed that wetness coating his dick.

  Ripping the underwear free was easy enough. Once again, he slid his fingers inside her, two of them pumping and stirring inside her. His thumb found her clit and pressed until she squealed into hi
s mouth, her body stiffening. Sweat sheened over her lovely neck and Carson was helpless not to trail his lips down to taste. Fuck, just a taste left him starving for more.

  “I’m going to fuck you so hard,” he bit out. “So fucking hard you’ll never forget this first time.”

  “Oh, God,” she whimpered. Surprisingly, she still didn’t fight him. Quite the opposite, in fact. To his complete and utter delight, Quinn began riding his dick, sliding his length through her folds over and over. Had any woman in the history of sex been so fucking wet? So deliciously tight? He knew he was already soaked with her cream, his dick more than ready to plunge home.

  With an unexpected tilt of her hips, she enveloped him, her body seeming to come apart in an instant. Carson had to wrap his arms around her to keep her from thrashing off his lap. Quinn screamed as her back bowed, the ends of her hair trailing down her back to tickle his legs. Biting the inside of his cheek, Carson growled, tightening his grip on her as he slammed into her, driving inside her so deep and hard, her whole body bounced with the force of it. Her nails dug into his arms through his shirt and jacket, the pain miniscule, not nearly enough to keep him grounded.

  And still she clenched around him. Sweet God above, she was still coming! Her cunt milked his cock, seeming to beg for his very essence. Which was when he realized he’d not used a condom. Then it was over. With the wave of shock at something he’d never done in his adult life, his control slipped just enough to push him over the edge.

  Carson pulled her tighter against him, wishing to God he was skin to skin, knowing it made no difference, he pounded into her, surging upward with all the strength in his body. As if a bomb had exploded, Carson erupted inside Quinn. His brutal yell was matched only by her scream as she came again. Her cunt continued to spasm around him as if to suck his seed as far into her body as it could. Which was a moot point. Carson couldn’t remember the last time he’d come so hard. If ever.

  Breathing hard, clinging to him as sweetly as anything had ever been, Quinn righted herself, meeting his eyes. The vulnerability there was nearly Carson’s undoing. He had a horrible urge to wrap her up and tell her she’d be his forever. Which he wouldn’t do. Unfortunately, he couldn’t make himself coldly set her aside.

  “I—” She swallowed. “We didn’t use protection,” she all but whispered.

  “No,” he said, not letting her look away from him. “And I won’t. I find I enjoy the feel of you too much.”

  “But, I mean, I’m on birth control, but—”

  “I’m clean,” he said. “No need to worry about that.”

  “Me too, but still. We shouldn’t. Accidents happen.”

  “That they do.” He really didn’t know what to say because the sudden image of her belly growing round and full with his child popped into his head. Then it was his turn to sweat. Because he found the thought had taken root, planted itself inside his brain never to be removed.

  Well, shit.

  Chapter Five

  Never had Quinn failed to protect herself during sex. Not ever. Then again, sex hadn’t really been something she’d had a lot of time for. Not to mention, the last time she’d even been on a date was… Well, never mind. Probably explained why she’d lost her goddamned mind and gone off like a bottle rocket. Now, here she was, more or less living with a man who allowed nothing between them when they made love. No, they didn’t make love. They fucked. Hard and fast or slow and hard, it was fucking; the desperate need for one another that made them cling long after the last gasp.

  Honestly, Quinn had thought Carson would be tired of her by now. Here it was, a week before Christmas, and the man showed no sign of slowing down. When he was at work, she was at the shelter fixing things that had long been neglected. There was even money for presents. But her afternoons, her nights belonged to Carson. More and more often he was coming to the shelter to collect her earlier and earlier.

  Yesterday, he’d come for her at lunch. He’d muttered a gruff, “Need you right now,” and practically threw her into the back of the limo. They hadn’t eaten, though. Not right away at least. They hadn’t made it back home either. Carson had stripped her bare, pulled out his cock, and covered her with that magnificent body, taking her on her back in the limo seat. Just like the first time, Quinn had come. Hard. She’d thrashed beneath him, trying to get him closer to her. The sensation of his fully clothed body rubbing against her nude one had been unbearably sexy.

  When they’d finished he hadn’t let her dress either. He’d folded her clothing neatly, stuffing her panties in his pocket before helping her into his overcoat. If it bothered him that his pants were wet in front from her coming and their frantic, messy sex, he’d given no sign of it. They hadn’t left bed other than to collect their delivered dinner. The man was simply insatiable. And it was getting worse.

  Just because Quinn had never been in love didn’t mean she didn’t recognize the signs. Her willingness to bend to his will was a huge warning sign. The way her body opened for him at his command, the way her heart skipped a beat whenever she saw him, the way she no longer scoffed at his high-handed behavior but thought it cute all pointed to one disturbing fact. She was falling for the enigmatic Carson Campbell—hard.

  Instead of running for the hills, Quinn found herself watching him. Yes, their “relationship” or whatever the hell this was had been based solely on sex, but Carson was showing some signs himself. Three weeks and he already knew her favorite foods. He had clothing delivered for her, all fifties style that complemented her full figure, the exact kind she’d buy for herself if she had the kind of money he did. And then there was the way he demanded to know everything about her. He tended to suggest they watch the movies she loved, and he never shied away from parading her around proudly in public. This wasn’t a sexual arrangement. They were like boyfriend and girlfriend, which just felt weird.

  The kicker came when she woke up this morning, fully prepared to get ready for a day taking care of business at Harmony House only to have Carson beg her to stay there.

  “Stay home, just today,” he’d asked, holding her down and stroking deep inside her. More times than not, that was the way she woke up. “Please?”

  Of course she’d given in, though she could’ve kicked herself the minute he left for work. Only an hour later she found herself receiving a delivery of a massive fir Christmas tree and boxes of antique ornaments. The kind her grandmother used to have, the kind she’d had to sell to keep Harmony House afloat years ago. It was a sweet, thoughtful gift.

  Whether or not Mr. Campbell knew it, he was falling for her. It was a notion that awed and terrified her. What was supposed to do with that? More importantly, how did she get him to admit it to himself, because there was no way in hell he’d admit it to her even after it jumped up and slapped him in the face.

  Tonight, they were going to his company’s Christmas party. When Quinn had tried to back out, he’d simply kissed her until she’d agreed. Which was how she found herself wearing a deep crimson velvet dress that flowed gracefully to the floor. A slit went up her thigh to a nearly indecent degree, but the folds of the dress gave only peeks of her dark thighs. The waist was cinched, the bodice tight, pushing up her ample breasts. The sleeves left her shoulders bare, circling her arms delicately just above her biceps. At her throat, Carson had fastened a stunning ruby-and-diamond necklace. To complete the look, he said, though Quinn noticed the loving look he’d given her before schooling his features and giving her a wicked grin.

  Never once did Carson drop her off with the other women at the party, always keeping her on his arm, introducing her as Miss Quinn Delaney, owner of Harmony House, the women’s refuge they were sponsoring this year. Had he done this simply to show off his company’s generosity? Was she a showpiece? More than one woman gave her that little smirk other women do when they know where the money came from. She couldn’t even dispute it because, well, it was true. Only it had turned into something so much more.

  “Carson!” The blond
e approaching him gave a little wave with her fingers. She drew out the A in his name as if she were Mrs. Howell on Gilligan’s Island. Top it all off with the fact she was model-thin, and more generously endowed than even Quinn, and it was easy to see the relationship between her and Carson. Quinn hated her immediately. She also began to question Carson’s feelings for her. Which was stupid. The signs were there, dammit! But then the woman kissed him with a familiar air and Quinn thought she might be sick. “I was wondering when I’d see you again. Our conversation a week or so ago is still…unfinished.” She purred like a kitten as she rubbed herself against Carson. Then she pouted prettily. “I’ve missed you.” The woman didn’t even acknowledge Quinn.

  “Kaitlyn—”

  “I know I’ve been busy, but I’m never too busy for you. Why don’t you come over tomorrow? I might have a Christmas present for you to open.” This Kaitlyn’s smile was carnivorous, as if she were looking at something she intended to have at any cost.

  For the first time since Quinn had met Carson, he had nothing to say. No snappy comeback for the woman. His face was red, but no doubt that was from embarrassment at being caught. She’d said they’d had a conversation a week ago. When in the world had Carson had time to have a “conversation” with her? He’d spent every waking minute he wasn’t at work having sex with Quinn! Even if he’d wanted to have a fling while they were in the middle of their meaningless sex relationship, or whatever it was, how could he possibly have done it? Didn’t men get tired or something?

  “Yes, Carson. Why don’t you go see her for Christmas tomorrow? I bet that present is a doozy.” Quinn tried to not actually spit the words at Carson, but she knew her bitterness came out. What the fuck had she been thinking, anyway? He’d done this for sex. She’d provided. They’d had no arrangement about either of them being monogamous. Except that, given he’d never used a condom when they had sex, she’d kind of had that expectation.