Three under the Mistletoe: A Christmas Menage Romance (Christmas Billionaire Menage Series Book 1)

by Tia Siren

  “You dance well,” she said, aware that her thigh was dangerously close to a place it shouldn't be.

  “Self-taught. Hundreds of hours dancing with beautiful women like you.”

  “You're not very modest, are you?”

  “No. Why should I be?”

  “How many women have you had?” She noticed she was slightly turned on by his arrogance.

  “A lot. Many different kinds of women. I love women; they are so unpredictable.”

  “You are Italian, so I guess it's in your genes. Italian men are continually horny.”

  The music changed, but Christian still held her and danced at his own pace. He wanted a slow grind, and that was what he was going to get, just as soon as he'd warmed her up.

  “Yes. We're all sex mad,” he said, laughing a bit.

  “You aren't married, are you?” He shook his head. “Girlfriend?” she asked.

  “No. You can have me if you want.”

  She laughed. “What makes you say that?”

  “Because you keep putting your thigh against my crotch and make no attempt to remove it. You know you are turning me on, and you want to.”

  “I do not,” she protested.

  “Oh yes, you do. You can deny it all you want, but you like me, and you want me. Look at the color of your cheeks.”

  “You're crazy,” she said as she tried to pull away.

  “Stop your feigned shock. I'm not one of those guys you can pussy whip into submission.” He pulled her waist back to him and turned them in another direction. He bent down and let his lips glide gently over her neck. He heard her gasp. “See. You like it, don't you? You also like it when you feel me getting hard against your leg.” He leaned into her, put his mouth to her ear, and whispered. “What turns you on?”

  “What?”

  “From behind, I'd say. You look like the kind of girl who enjoys being rammed from the rear,” he said.

  “You're so uncouth.”

  “And you're so fucking beautiful that you make me like that.”

  “You've only just met me, and you dare to talk to me like that?” she asked.

  “Yes, I dare. I told you before, I get what I want.”

  The band announced they were taking a break. “If you think I'm easy, I'm not. You'll have to work for it if you want it,” she said. “Fetch me a drink.”

  “Fetch your own drink. Who do you think I am?” he replied. “Work for it,” he scoffed. “I've never heard such shit.”

  He did what he often did when faced with women who were high and mighty. He moved away and started to talk to other people. It worked every time. Soon he felt Amy staring at him. He knew exactly what she was thinking. She was pissed that he'd dared to leave her side. He'd seen her type before. She was one of those beautiful women men flocked to with their tongues hanging out like thirsty dogs. She'd been conditioned, by men's own ridiculous behavior, into thinking she could get whatever she wanted by simply fluttering her eyelids. Well, not with him.

  He smiled to himself when she reappeared by his side a few minutes later. “Oh, it's you. Miss me, did you?” he said.

  “You're such a cocky asshole.”

  “So why don't you go and talk to your friends then?” he said nonchalantly.

  “Dance with me again,” she said.

  Outside in the street, Alberti kept glancing at his watch. Christian had told him he'd bring her to him around 3 p.m. It was 5 p.m. and there was no sign of him. There were a number of people sitting outside the cafe on the other side of the road, and Alberti was more than tempted to join them.

  “Fuck it,” he said. He got out of the car, walked across the road, and ordered a double vodka.

  “Are you ignoring me?” Madison said as she and her new husband danced by.

  “No, I'm just...”

  Madison winked at Amy as if to say, I know exactly what you're doing.

  Amy didn't want to talk to anyone. She didn't want to stand around, chatting idly, when she could be in the arms of this handsome man, whose scent was so wonderful. He was the kind of man she'd found impossible to find so far in her life. He was a man who told her what to do, and that made her feel calm.

  They danced until Amy's feet hurt, and then they sat at the bar and flirted some more. It had been dark for a couple of hours, and some of the guests were beginning to leave. As they spoke, Christian noticed Amy touching his leg from time to time. That was his signal.

  “Come on,” he said, taking her hand.

  “To where?”

  “To my place. I want you,” he whispered.

  She stood up and followed him. “I've got a driver somewhere,” he said when they reached the street. “There's the car. Where the fuck is he?”

  Alberti saw them from his place in front of the café and stood up. Christian heard the crash of someone knocking glasses over and looked toward the café. “Shit,” he said when he saw Alberti sprawled on the ground. He walked over to him, picked him up, and punched him. Alberti flew across the road and landed in front of their car. Christian picked him up and once again hit him. “You were supposed to wait for me, not get drunk in some café,” he exclaimed. Alberti was too far gone to answer.

  “Stop it, Christian. Everyone's looking,” Amy said.

  “Fuck. Get in the car,” he said to Amy.

  Christian got the keys from Alberti's pocket and left him lying in the gutter. After three-quarters of an hour, they reached the narrow road that led from the freeway to Oaktree Lodge.

  “This is a bit remote, isn't it?” Amy said.

  “I don't like people too much. I prefer to live out here,” he replied.

  Amy wondered if anybody ever came down this road except him. It wasn't just narrow, but also bumpy, and she was beginning to feel a little car sick. She was relieved when they stopped outside what appeared, in the dark, to be a log cabin.

  *****

  As soon as they were inside, Christian reached for her. He pulled her to him and kissed her. She leaned against the wall just inside the door and felt him push against her. The thin material of her dress did nothing to hide how hard he was. She was flattered that such a handsome man wanted her so badly.

  “You're keen, aren't you?” she said.

  “I've been looking at you all night. I'm horny as hell now.”

  “But I couldn't leave any earlier,” she said.

  “Sure. I'm just telling you why I'm so keen to fuck you.”

  “I can feel how much you want it,” she said. Her hand slipped down and caressed his length as it strained against the inside of his pants. He pulled her from the wall and took her to the bedroom. When he turned on the light, she blinked. The room was big enough for a double bed and a wardrobe, and it had a window that she assumed looked onto the forest behind the cabin.

  “I love your ass. It's so perfect,” he said as his hands ran over her buttocks. They kissed again, standing next to the bed.

  When she felt his hand reach behind her and lower the zipper on the back of her dress, she put her head into the nape of his neck and inhaled his scent. At the beginning of the afternoon he'd smelled of aftershave, but now he smelled of a wonderful blend. When her zipper was open, his manly hands caressed the soft skin on her back. As he stroked her, he turned every nerve into a small fire. The mix of his hands caressing her and his hard shaft pushing between her legs set her on fire, and she reached up and put her tongue into his mouth. When she tasted him, she felt a wet wave flow through her, preparing her for what he was going to do to her.

  As he kissed her, he put his hands on her shoulders and pushed the top half of her dress down. Her naked breasts sprang free, her nipples stiffening against the material of his shirt. She wanted to feel and smell his skin now. As he watched her breasts move, she unfastened his tie and popped opened the buttons on his shirt. She thrust her hands inside and felt him. His body was hard, and his skin felt so smooth. She put her nose to his chest and inhaled him. It sent another wet wave crashing to her underbelly.
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  When she pushed his shirt off, he picked her up and put her down on the bed. He stood at her feet and pulled her dress off. The sight of her lithe body, naked except for a white thong and her shoes, made him harder still. She reached down to take her shoes off.

  “No. Leave those on. I like it,” he said. It was one of his things. He loved fucking women in black heels.

  She put her feet on his chest as he stood in front of her. His hands slid over her ankles and momentarily massaged her calves before working their way up to her outer thighs. When he turned his palms inward and stroked the softness of her inner thighs, he felt a gush of warmth come from her womanhood.

  “Don't stop. That's so wonderful,” she said. Slowly his hands massaged her, working their way ever closer to their goal. When his fingers danced around the folds to the side of her thong, she threw her hips toward him, inviting him to remove the material. He ripped it from her and put his hands back on her. His fingers ran small circles over her delicate folds, caressing softly, intermittently dipping into her. Her breathing became labored, and she clutched at the bedclothes as he slowly but surely brought her to an orgasm. When he stopped massaging her and bent down and placed his mouth on her, she exploded, grinding herself against his face. He lifted her lower half from the bed, flung her legs over his shoulders, and took more of what he wanted until she pleaded with him to stop. He let her fall to the bed and took off his pants. He wasn't wearing shorts. She gave an involuntary lick of the lips when she saw his penis. She looked at his body. It was long, no fat, just hard muscle. His thighs looked strong, and they were covered in dark hair.

  He pulled her to him and took his penis in his hand. When he rubbed the tip over her clitoris, she moaned and tried to get him to push into her. He liked teasing her and continued to rub her. She was on the point of another orgasm when he shoved himself into her.

  She clung to him, her hands gripping his biceps as he rode her with hard thrusts. It was a warm evening, and soon his body was bathed in sweat.

  “I love your body. It's so firm,” she cried as his thrusts took her higher once again. “Come with me,” she pleaded.

  “Close,” he gasped. She bucked against him, encouraging him. When he cried out, she came with him, both of them clawing at each other.

  *****

  “What the hell?” Amy cried as the bed sheet flew from her. Christian woke up with a start and looked at Fabio, who was standing at the end of the bed. Amy put her arm over her breasts and a hand over her pubic hair.

  “Who the hell is this?” she asked Christian.

  “It's Fabio,” he replied.

  “He's just pulled the bed sheets from us. I'm naked. Do something.”

  Christian got up, took the sheet from Fabio and covered her with it. “There's no need for that,” he said to Fabio.

  “You didn't listen to a word I said yesterday, did you?” Fabio said.

  “Of course. She's here, isn't she?”

  “What do you mean she's here?” Amy asked. “Christian, who is he?”

  “You beat Alberti up and made a real spectacle of yourself in town. Were you trying to draw attention to yourself on purpose? And now I see you've fucked her.”

  “Alberti was blind drunk by the time we got to the car. He deserved a beating.”

  “You complete idiot,” Fabio shouted. “He was drunk because you took so long to bring her out of the fucking wedding. Imbecile.”

  “I couldn't just go in there and take her. It needed doing with finesse,” Christian said.

  “If you don't tell me what's going on, I'll call the cops,” Amy said.

  Fabio laughed. “Call the cops. I don't think so.”

  “Then tell me why,” she said.

  “You've been kidnapped,” Fabio said.

  “Christian?” she squealed.

  “He took you because we want to speak to your father. If he knows we've got you, he'll come to us.”

  “But I don't understand. Why do you want my father?”

  “He had an affair with my wife, and I want revenge.”

  She wondered whether she should tell them, but she decided to let them find out for themselves in the fullness of time.

  “So you weren't interested in me at all. On the contrary, you wanted to harm me,” she said, gazing at Christian.

  “It's not like that,” he replied.

  “Are you going to keep me against my will, or am I free to go?”

  “You're staying with us,” Fabio said.

  “Christian, tell this asshole you care for me. Tell him not to be so ridiculous. Jesus, we made love last night. How could you do this to me?”

  “Don't worry. All you have to do is sit tight here, and you can go when your father arrives,” Christian said.

  “She's not staying here,” Fabio said. “I want her moved. After the commotion you caused last evening, it's too close to the city. I'll get Alberti to come and take her to number two.”

  “I'll take her,” Christian said.

  “You won't. I don't want you anywhere near her now. Get your things and leave. I've got other jobs for you to do,” Fabio said.

  “Christian,” Amy said, a hint of desperation in her voice. “Please, you can't let him do this to me. Please.”

  Christian looked at her. “Sorry,” he said.

  Amy flew from the bed in a rage. She threw her fists around, catching Fabio on the jaw. Christian wrapped his arms around her and held her until her energy was spent. “You fucking lowlife,” she said to Christian. “Call yourself a man. You're just an apology for a man. All that Mr. Hard Man last evening. You don't fool me. You're just this asshole's stooge.” She pointed to Fabio, who was holding his jaw.

  There was the sound of a car in the driveway outside. Alberti came into the house sporting two black eyes. When he saw Christian, he scowled. “Why did you take so long yesterday?” he asked.

  “So what if I did? It was no reason to get blind drunk,” Christian said.

  “Stop talking,” Fabio said. “Alberti, when she's dressed, take her to number two and lock her up. Stay with her and make sure she gets some food now and again. Understand?” Alberti nodded. “Christian, come with me.”

  Christian followed him outside. “You're on collection duty. I don't want you anywhere near her anymore. Got it?”

  “But—”

  “But nothing. Go fuck someone else. You've fucked her for the first and last time.”

  Christian reluctantly took the car he had driven there the previous evening and headed back to LA. Collection duty meant he would be taking money from business owners in return for protection.

  *****

  “I'm sorry, Amy. Please forgive me. You mean everything to me. If you leave me, I'll hang myself.”

  “On your knees. Beg for me,” Amy said.

  “Anything you want. Just stay with me. I can't live without you.”

  The digital alarm clock that had sent a flickering green across the bedroom all night burst into life. Christian opened his eyes and groaned. Again he was bathed in sweat, and again he'd had that awful recurring dream. She was haunting him. He couldn't get through a night without being subjected to it. It was as if she was taking her revenge. For the last few nights, he'd dreamed he was so full of remorse for what he'd done, Amy so angry, that he let her dominate and humiliate him. It didn't matter what he told himself when he was awake; when he was asleep, he turned into a soft, subservient, hen-pecked man who was so full of remorse he would do anything to appease her.

  In the car on the way to his first collection, he wondered how long his dreams were going to last. He was hardly able to function during the day. He was tired, irritable, and even his penchant for eyeing up pretty women seemed to have deserted him. It was serious.

  “Mr. Singh, please don't make this any harder than it already is. You know the amount you and Mr. Affini agreed. There's only half of it here,” Christian said, looking into a brown envelope. He didn't even have to count it. He'd been collecting mon
ey for years, and he could tell how much was in an envelope by eye.

  “Please, Mr. Christian. Next time double, okay?” Mr. Singh said in a thick Indian accent. “We're in a recession.”

  “Does that stop people eating?” Christian asked.

  “No, but it stops people buying luxury items.”

  “Listen to me. If you don't pay in full next week, something very nasty will happen to your wife. Got it?”

  Mr. Singh scowled but nodded. He knew Christian wasn't joking.

  Christian walked out of the shop and into the sunlight. A young man was sitting on the hood of his car. “Get the fuck off my car, you punk,” he shouted. The boy stuck a finger up at him and jumped down.

  “Rosie, are you at home?” he asked into his cell.

  “Sure, baby. Come round whenever you want.”

  Twenty minutes later Christian pulled up outside the mansion. He got out of the car, walked up the stone steps, and rang the bell.

  “Jesus, you look terrible,” Rosie said. “What happened?”

  He didn't say anything until he was sitting down on the sofa in her sitting room. “I feel like shit, and I don't know what to do about it.”

  Rosie was Christian's mother. Not his real mother, but the next best thing. She was fifty-five, the widow of one of Fabio's former enemies. She and Christian had met at a party and gotten on so well that they'd talked through the night about a whole range of things, many of them deeply personal. They began to meet and talk. There was never any mention of the having sex. It was purely platonic, just two people who got on.

  “Tell me,” she said. She ran a hand through her dyed blond hair and crossed her legs.

  “A woman. I feel like shit because of a woman.”

  “Have you killed someone?”

  “No. Nothing like that. I feel I have betrayed her. It was one of Fabio's jobs. I had to win her trust and kidnap her.”

  “Ah. One of those jobs. Tell me, how many people has that asshole kidnapped in his life? It seems to be his stock-in-trade.”

  “I don't know.”

  “So you led a girl to believe you were a nice guy, had sex with her, and then handed her over to Fabio,” she said.

  “You know me so well, Rosie. I often feel I don't have to explain anything to you. I shouldn't have had sex with her. It was a horrible thing to do.”