by Snow, Jenika
A son and daughter. A wife and soul mate. I am living the fucking dream .
I look down at Jenny. She will always be mine, no matter what. I start rubbing her belly and feel the baby kick. God, I love this. I rub her belly once more, and my little boy kicks again .
“You think you can handle a baby boy, Jenny ?”
“If he’s wild like you, maybe not,” she says and chuckles. “But if I can handle you, I can handle anything .”
I shift on the couch and pull her onto my lap so I can kiss her. I stare at her face. “If I could marry you all over again, I would .”
This woman and my children are the reason I live, are the reason I work so hard. I want them to want for nothing .
She leans forward and kisses me softly .
“Do I still make you happy?” She smiles at me .
“Always .”
I pull her in and hug her, just keeping her close. This is the life…what living is all about .
The End
Coming December 2017 !
Goodreads
Chapter One
Holly
I f I hear one more Christmas carol, I’m going to hurl. That’s it. I hate this time of year. It’s cold, it’s miserable, and people are just plain rude. I tried Christmas shopping today—I really did. Fifteen minutes in the store with Holiday music playing in the background, people pushing and shoving, getting mowed down by shopping carts, and I was done .
Which is why I’m limping on the sidewalk, with not one shopping bag to show for my trouble. Some woman inside of the department store ran into me with her buggy. She didn’t apologize, she just huffed, like I was the one who caused the accident .
I find a bench close to the park and sit down to inspect the damage. I bend down to look at the back of my leg and wince at what I see. My stocking is torn and there are these gigantic runs in the nylon going up my leg. The heel of my foot is bloody and has been ripped open at the exact spot the back of my Jimmy Choo’s slide against. My favorite pair of heels didn’t exactly escape hell either. They’re scuffed and have serious damage. If I had it to do over I wouldn’t have walked away. I would have given that lady a dirty look and thrown my shoe at her before giving her the finger .
“Looks like you’ve been trampled by Santa’s reindeers,” a deep voice says to my right. I turn and look at him and everything in me stills. Chills run down my back and the voice seems to vibrate in the very center of me, sending instant awareness through me and making my body hum with need. Which is unusual for two reasons. One, I’ve been on a break from relationships and men in general for the last five years. My last break up was not good—so not good, that the thought of trusting another male scares the hell out of me. The last and most obvious reason is the one that takes precedence, however. I don’t know this man. I don’t know him at all and worse … he’s wearing a Santa outfit .
Great, I’ve reeled a nut job in .
“Do I know you?” I sound like a cranky old bitch right now, but I’m not in the mood for some guy dressed up to try and get me in the holiday spirit, not matter how good looking he is .
“I’m Santa, can’t you tell?” he says, drolly .
I rest my back against the bench and look at the stranger, feeling my eyebrow lift up in sarcastic disbelief. Yeah, he’s wearing a Santa suit, a cheesy red colored one that looks like it’s made out of crushed velvet and that’s trimmed in white, fake fur. I suppose that’s not strange, tis’ the season and all that. What doesn’t fit the part, however, is when he yanks off the beard and hat, and pulls off the white gloves, I can see his large, masculine hands are covered in ink .
I draw my attention back to his face. Now that the fake beard is gone I see he’s sporting a black beard with a bit of gray sprinkled in. Dark, almost obsidian eyes stare down at me. They look intense, mocking and yet at the same time somehow bored with life. He pulls out a cigarette, and then lights it, while cupping his hand against the cool New York wind .
“I don’t think Santa is supposed to smoke,” I tell him .
“Sweetheart, Santa does a lot he’s not supposed to do,” he smirks and something about that look on his face makes my body heat .
“Whatever. You should make sure your boss doesn’t see you do that,” I mutter, annoyed because he’s making my traitorous body react when it shouldn’t .
“Santa has no boss .”
“God, can you drop the act? I’ve about had it with Christmas and the last thing I want to do is hear you tell me how you spend your days on the North Pole playing with your reindeer,” I huff .
“I make the elves stroke my reindeer horns actually,” he smirks. “What’s got your panties in a twist ?”
“You mean besides being mowed over by a woman with a buggy and ruining a pair of pantyhose and my favorite pair of heels ?”
“Who was she? I’ll put her on the naughty list,” he asks and at this point I just shake my head .
Who is this guy ?
“Will you give it a … What are you doing? ” I feel my eyes grow big as I watch him get down on his haunches in front of me .
“I thought that was rather obvious. I’m checking your injury out,” he murmurs, ignoring my protest and pulling my leg up into his lap—despite me trying to pull it away .
I brace myself on the bench, because if I don’t, I’m going to end up falling to the ground. I try to kick at him, but he holds my leg firmly, not allowing the movement .
“Will you stop? I don’t know you! And besides that, this dress is too short. You’ll have me flashing half of New York.” My voice has risen by this point .
“Stop being dramatic. My body is completely blocking you,” he dismisses and then he looks at me—really looks at me. His eyes bore into mine, and his hand on my leg becomes tighter, almost punishing in his hold. “Are you wearing panties?” he asks .
My body jerks in reaction. I should be repulsed. In fact, I should be panicking that a man I don’t know, a man dressed in a Santa suit, with a cigarette trapped between his lips and his big—huge really—ink covered hand, wrapped around my leg, is asking me if I’m wearing panties. What I should not be, is turned on. And, if my damp panties are any indication … I am definitely turned on .
“You did not just ask that!” I cry out, desperately trying to pull away from him. I can’t be turned on by a stranger—a very weird, sexy as sin stranger. I cannot be talking about my panties with said stranger and most of all, I can’t spread my legs a little wider for him .
“Black… nice,” he says almost to himself, obviously having looked at my panties. I’m not sure how much he can see because of my pantyhose, but despite it all I feel my face heat, even though the air has a wintery chill to it. “Damn, honey, I’d say the shopping cart won your war,” me mumbles around his cigarette, yet somehow managing to make each word clear .
“Will you let go of my leg please?” I growl out, unable to pull away from his firm grip. I’m thinking what I thought might be padding to fill out the Santa suit is actually just plain muscle. If his hands are anything to go by, he’s huge .
What is it they say about large hands again ?
I squirm uncomfortably. I really shouldn’t be thinking about that at all .
Coming Soon !
Goodreads
Chapter One
Megan
M y heart was thundering, my palms sweating. I looked between my father and the man who was claiming he now owned me. I stared at my father, pissed that he would get himself into the situation, that he always seemed to fuck up on the most monumental levels .
He wouldn't even look at me and I knew it was because he realized how bad the situation really was. With his head downcast, his gaze refusing to meet mine, I could do nothing but want to lash out at him, hurt him in the way he was hurting me right now .
I knew in that moment that he would let Jackson King take me, own my body... fuck me .
“I'm not some piece of fucking property,” I almost screamed out. Tea
rs of anger raced down my cheeks, and I felt my face heat .
And then, looking calm, collected, and like he had all the time in the world, Jackson King stared directly into my eyes and smiled. His grin had a chill racing up my spine, this cold sweat covering me, and I knew I should've been afraid instead of aroused .
Jackson King was older, hell, no doubt two decades older than my own twenty-one years, with a headful of short silver and grey hair, and a beard that screamed all man. His body was big, strong, muscular, and despite the situation, he made me feel very feminine .
“Your father owes a debt, and without any funds or any collateral to make up the loss, you're what I'll be taking as his payment.” He said those words as if the deal was already done, as if I had no choice in the matter .
I didn’t know what my father had done, or why this was happening, but I knew I’d find out eventually .
Forget the fact that I’d wanted Jackson King for longer than I could remember. I didn’t “know” him, but he’d been doing business with my father for years, and I knew enough about him through the media that it was like he’d always been in my life .
I could have snorted at the fact that I would assume to know who Jackson King was .
Ever since my father started doing business with him, I’d been fascinated by the man behind the three-piece suits and the billion dollar company. I knew he was ruthless in his endeavors, and that what he wanted, he took .
I just didn't think I would be the object of his taking .
I clenched my teeth together, my anger rising, my annoyance taking over. I stared right in his eyes, not about to back down no matter how intimidating he was .
“You can't make me go with you.” I felt pride over actually saying the words and knowing I had power too. “I’m not some piece of property you can own.” But the smirk he gave me, that arrogant, all-knowing expression, had this cold feeling rushing over me .
He took a step closer but I held my ground, refusing to back down. He might be powerful in the boardroom, maybe even dominate and dictate to everyone around him, but in this instance I would not bend .
I would not submit .
And when he reached out and tipped my head back with his finger under my chin, I knew there was something inherently wrong with me. The feeling of his flesh on mine, even that small touch, had me instantly wet. I felt my nipples beading, and my inner muscles clenching painfully .
He smiled wider, flashing straight white teeth, but it was more of a predatory expression, one that told me he knew he would get exactly what he wanted no matter what .
“That's where you're wrong, Megan.” He ran his thumb along my jawline, eliciting a shiver along my arms. “You'll give me what I want because you love your father, you don’t want to see him desolate and broken, and also because...” He leaned in closer so our faces were only inches apart. The scent of his cologne was addicting, and filled my head, making me dizzy, drunk from it all. “You’ll come with me because you want me as much as I want you .”
And just like that, after he spoke those words—those very true words—I knew I would do whatever he said .
****
Megan
I left with Jackson just an hour ago, my father's words before I left playing through my head .
“Jackson, we can work this out as men. My daughter does not need to be involved in this.” He sounded so sincere, so frightened over everything .
“It's okay, Dad.” I knew he had nothing to offer Jackson as payment. Although I just now realized that. Before Jackson came here demanding payment I just assumed my father had been stable, that he had money. Apparently I'd been dead wrong .
If I had been able to handle this with paying the debt off myself—sans using my body—I would have, obviously. But I’d barely finished my third year of college, and the jobs I usually worked at were minimum wage, and just for the summer .
As we sat in the back of his limo, the privacy screen up, the air too thick for me to breathe comfortably, all I could do was stare at the man who claimed I was now his .
I forced myself to look away, out the tinted window of the limousine, seeing a grand house come into view. My heart sped up. The car stopped in front of a massive wrought-iron gate, and after a moment the doors swung open and we were ascending this long driveway .
I don't know what I expected, maybe Jackson taking me to his office to deflower me there, showing me that he really did own me. Another chill raced up my spine and I rubbed my arms together. I glanced at Jackson again, and saw he already watched me, his dark eyes locked on mine, this knowing expression on his face .
I was a virgin, and this man, this very attractive, powerful man, who was worldly, and so experienced, would most likely expect me to be the same. What would he do? Did he have any idea that I’d never had sex ?
Once the car pulled up to the front doors and the engine was cut, I swear I could feel my heart beating so loudly it filled the back of the vehicle. My throat was so tight, my mouth so dry. I didn't know what to expect, but I had agreed to be Jackson’s. I’d agreed to fulfill my father’s debt, because even if it wasn't my responsibility to handle his affairs, I did love him and he was all that I had left in the world .
If being with Jackson for this week made things right, then so be it .
I just hoped I could keep my emotions in check. As twisted as it all seemed, I could see myself falling for this intimidating, arrogant man very easily .
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