Hot for the Holidays (21 Holiday Short Stories): A Collection of Naughty and Nice Holiday Romances

by Anthology

  "Oh my word, she’s such a Stella. She’s perfect. Let me hold her," Mia demanded, holding out her arms.

  "She looks just like her mama," he added, when he placed his daughter in Mia’s embrace. She gifted him with a smile before bringing Stella closer, a look of awe overtaking her.

  "I’m sorry," she said and he knew exactly what she meant, for putting him through this experience yet again.

  "Shh …" he said, kissing her lips again. "Nothing to be sorry for."

  "It happened again—"

  "Yes, and yet again you fought your way back to me."

  "It’s going to take more than that to take me away from you. You are my home, Ethan. I’ll always find my way back to you."

  THE END

  If you enjoyed Mia & Ethan’s story, you can read more of them in Ryleigh's Never Over You series.

  About Ryleigh Andrews

  During the day, Ryleigh Andrews is an analyst, but even then, she’s writing, sneakily crafting scenes on post-it notes. She's been told she's a bit of a geek...some say nerd. She'll agree to it all. She loves music. It's been a force in her life for as long as she can remember. Her love of Star Wars and superheroes has probably been going on just as long...see, this is where the geek/nerd thing comes into play. But, most of all, Ryleigh loves the written word. She's been writing for a long time. Her first story came to her during one of her history classes. She wrote it in the margins of her notebook in teeny tiny letters so no one knew that she was writing a book instead of taking notes on 16th Century Europe. She currently lives in Chicago, Illinois, with her husband and son, along with her Siberian Husky, Mick Jagger, and her cat, Winston Churchill.

  Connect with me online:

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  Other Books by Ryleigh Andrews

  Never Over You Series

  Bring Me You (Book 1)

  Still Into You (Book 2)

  Never Over You (Book 3)

  Compromise

  By Livia Jamerlan

  A Christmas Story from the Consensual Series.

  The holiday season is never easy; it’s filled with Compromises. Peyton and Braelynn have finally found their way back to each other and the last thing Peyton wants to do is screw up, again. As they bounce around from one family to the other they both have their hearts set on spending the New Year in the Caribbean sun. What neither were prepared for was a frantic, heartbroken Gus to show up at their door. They now have to compromise on their trip to be at the side of a dear friend.

  Chapter One

  Peyton

  I jogged up from the basement with my lacrosse stick in my hand. My father, having little patience for tardiness, had repeatedly complained that I was late to the last meet, but Taylor, being a prick little brother, had hidden my lacrosse stick under the Ping-Pong table. He was still upset that he hadn’t made the varsity team.

  Lacrosse was another sport my parents had shoved down my throat. It looked great on college applications, they said, but I didn’t care for sports; they weren’t for me. Yes, I was good at them, and it helped that when I couldn’t hit Taylor, I could always pounce on the other team, but they weren’t a passion. I wanted to make money and have many women.

  It had taken only two months of promising her the moon, but Devon had finally let me seal the deal. I knew she would eventually. My mother was old friends with Devon’s mother; this worked in my favor since she was always around. Little did Devon know, though, that Monica, Sally, and Erica had already beaten her to the punch. Some girls didn’t need to be wooed like Devon. And I wasn’t waiting around.

  Money came easy for me. At an early age I knew I was born into wealth. My family had more money than most of my friends. Our houses were bigger, my mother’s parties were the biggest amongst her friends and I knew that once I was done with college I would walk in my father’s footsteps. There was a shiny future paved out for me, which included fancy cars, sexy women, and a cushy job.

  Tugging on the basement door that connected to the laundry room, I heard voices coming from the kitchen. My mother and father argued on the other side of the closed door. Strolling through the laundry room, I attempted to listen to their argument. It wasn’t common for my parents to argue, especially not in the opening where anyone could overhear. In the past seventeen years of my life, I could only recall witnessing an argument between them once. I held my ear to the door, listening to what my mother was saying.

  "I never asked you to do that." My mother’s voice carried a hint of pain.

  "You gave me no choice, Mary Ann." I heard my father’s heavy footsteps move around. "What was I supposed to do? I loved you, and I knew I could love him too." His voice roared with anger; it was a voice he often used when Taylor was misbehaving.

  My mother whimpered, and her soft cries made me wonder what was so terrible. She never cried. I wanted to go to them, but my feet were glued to the spot where I stood. I was too curious about the rest of the conversation to move.

  "He has a right to know," my mother said, her voice barely audible.

  "No!"

  Something banged in the kitchen. This had to be something serious if my mother was crying and my father was yelling. I held my ear to the door, waiting for the next outburst. Taylor must have caused havoc at Dume Pointe Preparatory junior school

  "Peyton," my name was called from behind me. With my stick in my hand, I spun around. Knocking the detergent and a few other items from the shelf, I found Wilson behind me, his dark brown eyes stern. He was like a second father. He and his wife, Margaret, had lived with us since I was a toddler. Wilson drove me to school and anywhere else Taylor, Spencer (our sister), or I needed.

  "What?" I whispered back.

  "It’s rude to eavesdrop, my boy." He picked up the detergent from the floor.

  "Do you know what that’s about?" I asked, pointing back to the door. Kneeling next to Wilson, I helped pick up the dryer sheets.

  Wilson shook his head and stood. "Let’s go, boy. You don’t want to be late for your match." He coughed loudly before entering the kitchen, letting my parents know he was coming; their conversation died as I trailed behind Wilson. My father poured himself a malt scotch while my mother stared out the kitchen window, her head held high to hold the tears in her eyes. I yanked the fridge door back and retrieved a Gatorade before looking at my father.

  "Everything okay?" I asked, moving my gaze from my father and observe my mother.

  "Yes. Have a good game, son," my father said before taking a big gulp from his glass. Though my father hated that I was late to my matches, he’d never attended any of them. He loathed that my tardiness might tarnish the McAlister name.

  "Mom?" I looked at her again. Her hands held the side of the sink as though she was holding herself up.

  "It’s nothing, darling. Go." She waved back at me. "Wilson is waiting for you."

  I took my drink and headed out the back door. Wilson was waiting for my outside the kitchen. "Do you know what that’s about?" I asked.

  "No, sir, but we should get going." I knew he was trying to protect me; I could tell by the way his eyes avoided mine. Wilson was lying.

  I shut the car door to the large SUV Wilson drove and then remembered my stick that still leaned against the kitchen counter. "Shit!"

  "Language." Wi
lson twisted the key in the ignition.

  "Sorry, I’ll be right back. I forgot my stick." I kicked the door open and sprinted towards the house. I hoped my father had already left the kitchen so I could avoid a scolding and a lecture. He had a habit of finding ways to sit me down and tell me everything I was doing wrong.

  "He needs to know the truth." my mother cried out. Their argument had not stopped.

  "Mary Ann, enough," my father shouted as though my mother was the rebellious Taylor and not his better half.

  "William, we can't keep it from him. He and Drew are in the same school. It’s only a matter of time before he tells him, and it’s better if he hears it from us."

  "This is not up for discussion." I heard my father move. "Peyton is to never know the truth."

  I held my breath, hoping they wouldn’t find me. I had thought my parents were referring to Taylor; he was the troubled child who needed all the attention. I had given my parents everything they’d ever asked for. My grades were stellar; I followed their rules, and never talked back to my mother.

  But on that day everything changed.

  I had always known Drew Seymour was a prick, but I’d never expected he would spend the next fifteen years of my life fucking it all up as my brother.

  "Peyton?"

  Braelynn’s soft voice pulled me away from the memory. I looked away from the window and towards my bed. She had pulled the sheets over her breasts to cover them, and her eyebrows were pushed together as worry grew on her face.

  "Are you okay?" she asked.

  My guilt about what had happened to her still haunted me almost a year later. I wanted to leave New York the second week of December and not come back until the New Year, especially after what had happened during Thanksgiving with my father and me. But she had just come back to me after spending almost a tear apart and I didn’t want to argue about the holiday season. This was our first Christmas together, and Christmas was about spending it with family and friends. She had spent hours decorating the house, and there were a few presents under the tree. She wanted the traditional Christmas and that was what I planned on giving her.

  "It’s snowing," I joked and stood.

  "I can see that." I approached her side of the bed her lips grew in a pout as she tugged on the towel wrapped around my waist. "You showered without me?" Her voice was laced with want and I couldn’t help but rub my hands through her wild blonde hair.

  My hands slid down her slender neck, and I watched as her nipples pebbled as I traced small circles around her ample breasts. My hands trailed down her body until I found her hot pussy wet with arousal.

  Braelynn ran her small hand up my thigh and coiled around my cock. My erection grew harder as she began to stroke it. "Too bad we have to get ready to go to your mothers." She bit down on her lower lip. "If not, I would’ve sat here and sucked you off." She pulled her hand away when I was fully erect.

  She was still the same tease.

  Wanting to bury myself deep inside her, I dropped the towel and pulled the sheets back. "We have a few minutes to spare." I slid my hand up her body and trail of her arousal showed on her skin.

  She slapped my hand away and rolled to the other side of the bed. "You showered without me, so now you have to wait until tonight." She tossed her hair over her shoulders and walked towards the bathroom.

  I’d had her only a few hours before, but I craved more. I loved to fuck. I loved to make love. I loved Braelynn; I loved her naked in my bed and any which way I could have her. I never had my fill of that woman.

  "I don’t think we should go." I followed behind her, my eyes glued to her body. I wanted to bend her over the sink and make her scream my name, but I knew I had to mentally prepare myself for the conversation we were about to have.

  Braelynn retrieved a new towel from the closet and turned the shower on. "We’re going. It’s your mother's holiday party. We have to go, Peyton. I promised her I would be there."

  "Why don’t we stay in?" I walked towards the glass shower doors that were beginning to fog up. "We can order in, lie by the fire … I promise you to make you very satisfied. We can play—"

  "We're going!" she interjected. The shower door cracked open and a wet and sexy Braelynn smiled up at me. "You're not going to bribe me with crazy sex, Haas." She slammed the door shut and returned to her shower.

  "You know, for that, you're not getting sex for a week." I throw my hands in the air sarcastically.

  Chapter Two

  Braelynn

  It was the first Christmas Peyton and I would be spending together, and to say I got carried away was an understatement. Peyton and I had driven upstate to a tree farm and bought a real tree for our living room, and you couldn’t go anywhere in the house (including the bathroom) without being smacked in the face with a Christmas decoration. I had spent the past weekend baking Christmas cookies for Peyton’s office staff and some of the neighbors I’d become friendly with.

  The blueprints for our dream home were in the works, so I had left my apartment and moved in with Peyton. With him, his house felt like home, especially since we were working on making a life together. Though we didn’t talk about marriage, we both knew one day we would walk down that aisle, just not anytime soon; we were still in the honeymoon stages of our relationship.

  Getting through the holidays had been a bit of a challenge. I knew Peyton didn't want to go to his parents’ house for the Christmas party, especially after the horrible argument he’d had with his father during Thanksgiving, but we would spend Christmas Eve with his family and then head over to Kennedy’s for Christmas Day brunch where Loren would be joining in the festivities. Once we had eaten, we would rush back home to pack before we hopped on a plane to the Bahamas for New Years.

  Our lives had changed so much since we’d found our way back together. Our sex life was still the same—insatiable and out of this world hot. He couldn't keep him hands off me, but I wasn’t complaining. I craved his touch, his lips on my body … and the way he looked at with those hazel eyes had me melting with need.

  Not everything was great, though, and it took more than a few therapy sessions with Dr. Alina before we’d managed to get past the lying and the anger. I learned not to push the conversation when he didn’t want to talk about things; he would eventually tell me what was wrong. Peyton still had some pent up anger because of Drew, and I knew he still blamed himself for what Drew had done to me.

  Lathering my hair with shampoo, I recalled the only time I’d seen Peyton lose it completely.

  "Are you sure you don't need me to make anything to bring to your mothers?" I asked.

  "It's not a traditional Thanksgiving, so you don’t need to bring anything, trust me," he said, sitting in his office chair. His dark brown hair was longer than what I was accustomed too. Peyton had woken up and headed straight for his office early that morning, even though I knew he had cleared his calendar for the weekend. We were very similar in that way; work soothed our anxiety.

  I leaned into the doorframe. "What is that supposed to mean?"

  His shoulders tightened and his hazel eyes locked with mine. "We don’t sit at this big table and eat. My mother doesn't cook. She has it catered—drinks and hors d'oeuvres. I doubt they would even miss us. We shouldn't go." He huffed and ran his hands through his hair.

  I pushed off the door and walked towards him. Pulling his chair out, I sat on his lap. "Want to tell me what's really bothering you?"

  "It's nothing, Lynn."

  "It's something."

  Peyton looked up at me and smiled. "It's nothing, doll." He kissed my nose. "We'll go and it'll be fine. If you’d like, I can pick up a pie."

  I smiled and softly kissed his lips. "Nope, I already bought the ingredients to make my pumpkin pie." Standing, I walked out of his office and towards the kitchen.

  By one in the afternoon we were on the road and headed towards his parents home in Westchester. Peyton seemed tense as he gripped the steering wheel tightly. I’d never grasped
why he had such hatred towards his father, but I didn’t say anything. Instead, I patiently waited for him to come to me.

  A few hours had passed before Peyton pulled up to his parents’ beautiful home. It looked like a castle and I could only imagine what it was like growing up in a home this extravagant. I tugged on the hem of my dress, hoping I looked presentable. I had dressed in the dark blue knitted dress that matched Peyton's suit, keeping my heels low and my makeup light.

  Instead of walking in the front door like I had expected, he led me to the back of the house and up the stairs. The smell of comfort food smacked me in the face; I could smell a turkey in the oven and the delicious scent of cinnamon and apples. I stepped further into the kitchen and noticed the dishes that were being made. Crannied sweet potatoes, green bean casserole and warm biscuits were placed in elegant Lenox serving dishes. This wasn't cocktails and hors d'oeuvres.

  "Braelynn, this is Margaret." Peyton placed his hand and on her shoulder.

  A grin grew on Margaret’s face as she looked up at me. Her hands folded together over her heart as she spoke. "Oh, dear, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you."

  I knew how much she meant to him; he had spent most of his childhood with Margaret behaving more as a parent than his true family. She was sweet elderly woman with gray hair that was pinned back. Her eyes were kind and almost black. I smiled wide and opened my arms for an embrace. "Do you need help with anything?" I asked holding her for a few seconds longer,

  "No, sweetie. Thank you, though."

  Peyton handed her the pie I’d made and excused ourselves so we could greet the rest of the guest.

  "Peyton," Spencer’s voice bellowed. Peyton’s sister sashayed into the room. It had been a long time since I’d seen her. She had chopped off her long blonde hair and dyed it dark auburn. "I saw your car in the front." She slapped his shoulder and then looked at me. "Hi!"