Naughty Holidays 2016

by Nicole Edwards

  “What is this?” She held up the package to show him. “It was just delivered.”

  “Ah. Perfect timing.” He tried to pretend to be serious, but it was a hell of a lot harder than it looked considering this item had come. “I’ve been waiting for that thing to get here.”

  “That thing?” She looked far too curious for her own good.

  “Just a little Christmas present.”

  Marissa frowned. “I thought you already gave me my present.”

  “This one’s for us,” he explained. “But I need to do a few things to it first, then I’ll show you.”

  She stared at him blankly, making him chuckle.

  “Don’t worry, you’ll love it. I promise. And it’s nothing fancy, so don’t freak out.”

  “No more presents, Trace. You already have to deliver on the one you promised,” she said, the twinkle in her eye softening her demanding tone.

  “Oh, I’ll deliver, all right,” he assured her.

  Marissa studied the box once more before setting it on the desk and then turning to go. He wanted to stop her and explain—he knew she wasn’t big on the idea of being kept in the dark—but he really did need to do something first.

  When she left the room, Trace opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out the small, folded sheets of paper he’d put there a couple of days ago, then got to work opening the box. He pulled out the item inside and laid it flat on the desk.

  It really wasn’t anything fancy, but it was nice, and they could use it again next year and the year after. Not only for what he had in mind. It was a simple advent calendar, a wooden box with twenty-five little doors, each with a small holiday picture carved on the front. Reindeer, trees, stockings, hearts, snowflakes. Cute but not over the top. After all, it wasn’t the box that was the most important part of this gift.

  Ten minutes later, with everything in place, Trace carried the box to the kitchen, where he found Marissa sitting on a barstool playing on her phone.

  Her eyes widened when she looked up at him.

  “It’s nothin’ fancy,” he told her, placing the box on the bar in front of her.

  “Is that an advent calendar?” she questioned, her eyes grazing the outside.

  Okay, good, so she knew what it was. When he’d gone looking online for one, he’d found they had a million different types. He wanted a simple one that had small boxes for the countdown so that he could place the sheets of paper in each little box.

  “It is.” He pointed at the number twenty-five. “And this is the one you open today.”

  “So, every day I open one of these doors and get a surprise as we countdown to Christmas?” Her eyes were wide, hopeful. Like a kid on Christmas.

  Trace pressed up against her, sliding his hand up to the nape of her neck. “Somethin’ like that.”

  He watched as she pulled open the tiny wooden door marked with twenty-five. When she pulled out the sheet of paper, he clamped his lips shut, waiting patiently.

  MARISSA KNEW EXACTLY what an advent calendar was. Her mother had insisted on the family having one when she was a kid. Granted, she seriously doubted that her dirty-minded husband had slipped pieces of candy or small trinkets inside each one of those boxes the way her mother had. He was far too devious for that.

  Pulling open the small door, she noticed a tiny slip of paper inside, folded several times. Even without opening it, Marissa was pretty sure she already knew what was on it. No way was it a poem or a Christmas carol.

  Taking the paper out, she looked from it to her husband, then back again.

  She slowly unfolded it, continuing to watch her husband’s face as she did, before glancing down at the paper. There, scrawled in Trace’s very own chicken-scratch handwriting were the words: Sex on the couch.

  “It’s nice to see you started out tame,” she said on a laugh. “I assume these get more devious as we go along?”

  Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the grin on Trace’s face. Yep. She’d thought so.

  “So, just to confirm,” she said calmly, peering down at the paper once more, pretending to study it, “every day I’m going to open one of these little doors to find out what sexual position we’re gonna try for that day?”

  Trace leaned in, his mouth warm on her neck as he kissed her gently. “That’s the idea.”

  “You’re a sneaky man, Trace Kogan.”

  Knowing Trace, sex on the couch was the tamest of them all. He was far more adventurous when it came to sex than she was. Not that Marissa minded, and she had to admit, this was a rather interesting game that he wanted to play. It went right along with them wanting to have a baby.

  She only hoped she could survive twenty-five days of this.

  Chapter Six

  Sunday, December 4th

  IT WAS INEVITABLE.

  From the minute she had decided on a paint color, Trace had known he would be roped into doing the work. Granted, Marissa was willing to help, but he would’ve preferred to sit this one out and watch her. After all, she was sporting those cute overalls that had his dick doing a happy dance.

  “Brush or roller?” she asked, squatting down to open the paint can.

  He preferred neither. “Whichever. Doesn’t matter.”

  Trace noticed Marissa shaking her head. She’d probably expected that answer. When she stood up and handed him the roller, he realized he wasn’t getting out of this one.

  “I hope this is the last room you’re gonna paint,” he grumbled, dipping the roller in the paint pan.

  “No promises,” she said sweetly.

  Of course not.

  They worked in silence for a few minutes, but then Marissa stopped. He could see she was observing him. Yeah, he was probably going slower than was necessary, but he enjoyed giving her crap for this sort of thing. It was a husband’s duty to do so.

  “I’ve got an idea,” Marissa noted.

  Trace paused, glancing over at her. “Yeah?”

  “Since today’s sex assignment is standing up—not very adventurous, by the way.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m thinking I can add a little something.”

  That certainly got his attention. And she was right, standing up wasn’t very adventurous, but he was trying to take it slow with her. Marissa was all for sex, but in all fairness, he didn’t want to push her too far.

  “What’d you have in mind?” he asked.

  “For every wall you paint, I’ll take off an article of clothing.”

  He looked her over from head to toe. She wasn’t wearing socks or shoes, so that was a plus. That left a T-shirt, the overalls, and probably a bra and panties. He glanced at the four walls.

  “That’s good incentive,” he admitted.

  Damn good incentive.

  MARISSA KNEW THE second she mentioned strip painting that her husband would be on board. However, she hadn’t realized how quickly he would work.

  “One wall down,” he announced, grinning from ear to ear. “Do I get to pick which article of clothing comes off?”

  She smiled to herself. “I guess.”

  “Lose the shirt.”

  That was an interesting choice. However, a deal was a deal, so Marissa easily slipped her T-shirt off, leaving the overalls intact. She was mostly covered, so she went back to work.

  Twenty minutes later, Trace was announcing he was finished with another wall. Marissa set her paintbrush down and turned to inspect his work. Sure enough, he’d knocked out another one in record time.

  “Lose the bra, Marissa.”

  Of course.

  Feeling her cheeks heat, Marissa unclasped her bra, then slipped it down her shoulders, tossing it to the floor with her shirt. There was a definite draft.

  “Fuck,” Trace groaned, his eyes locked on her.

  She could see the telltale bulge in his jeans, and for whatever reason, that made her feel good. Marissa liked that she could get him hot and bothered.

  “Get back to work,” she said sternly.

  “Take the straps off
your shoulders,” Trace commanded. “Let them hang down.”

  That would leave her topless completely. She considered it for a moment. “Not until you’re halfway done with that wall.”

  Not surprisingly, Trace went right back to work.

  Ten minutes later, Marissa was painting topless, her overalls hanging down. It was weird, for sure, but she pretended not to notice.

  It wasn’t long before she was clad in only her panties, but it appeared the final wall wasn’t going to get completed anytime in the near future. Trace had dropped the roller and had her backed up against the only unpainted wall, his mouth fused with hers, his fingers dipping into her panties.

  Because she’d been doing this little striptease for the past hour, Marissa was as worked up as he was, eager for him to finish what she’d started.

  When he stripped her panties from her body, she didn’t complain. And when he lifted her off her feet, Marissa wrapped her legs around him and allowed him to impale her.

  “Oh, yes…” This was one hell of a way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

  She couldn’t wait to see what was in store for tomorrow.

  Chapter Seven

  Tuesday, December 6th

  TRACE GOT THE distinct impression that his pretty little wife was being sneaky. He didn’t know that for certain, but it seemed as though she’d started sneaking peeks at the future calendar days. It made sense. Marissa wasn’t good with surprises. He probably should’ve only put one slip of paper into the advent calendar at a time so she couldn’t look into the future.

  But he had a plan to counteract her deviousness.

  One that involved her getting naked. Right now.

  “Marissa?” Trace stepped into the kitchen, starting a pot of coffee.

  “Huh?” she asked when she came into the living room. Ever since they’d finished painting the room, she’d been working at getting it decorated. Pictures, lamps, furniture, rugs… It seemed to be a never-ending process.

  “Can you come here for a minute?”

  She set down a picture on the coffee table and came toward him. “What’s up?”

  Trace leaned against the counter, regarding her for a moment. “Have you been peeking at days on the calendar?”

  Her cheeks instantly turned a pretty shade of pink, and she didn’t answer. Which meant he’d busted her.

  Trace sipped his coffee, knowing she would have an excuse any second now.

  “You didn’t say I couldn’t look,” she blurted defiantly.

  Fair point. “But I didn’t say you could, either.”

  “True.”

  “Come here.” He set his coffee mug on the counter as she approached slowly.

  “What are you gonna do?” Her eyes widened, but there was a glimmer of heat reflected there. If he didn’t know better, he would’ve thought she’d been hoping for this.

  “I’m suddenly interested in watching you decorate that room,” he told her, taking her hand and leading her back toward the new formal living area. He picked up the picture as he went.

  “What’s the catch?” she asked.

  “I’m thinking it would be a much more interesting project if”—he grinned—“you were naked.”

  Her eyebrow lifted and he could tell she wasn’t completely opposed to the idea.

  “Naked?”

  “Yep.” He set the picture down on the chair, then reached for her shirt.

  Without waiting for permission, he lifted it over her head and tossed it to the couch.

  “You seem to have this thing with me stripping for you,” she muttered.

  “If I recall, you’re the one who wagered that the other day.”

  Marissa rolled her eyes.

  Trace took a step back until his calves hit the edge of the chair. “Now, I’ll just sit here and watch while you get rid of the rest of those pesky clothes, then finish what you were doing.”

  MARISSA TRIED TO pretend she wasn’t bothered by the fact that her husband had ordered her to strip naked to hang pictures. If she thought painting while partially naked was weird…

  Still, she did it because Trace probably doubted that she would. And yes, he’d busted her. She had been peeking at the days to see what was on his list. She knew he’d caught her when she’d opened the box yesterday to find out that instead of having sex in the shower, they were going down to the garage to do so. It had been interesting to say the least.

  However, she should’ve come clean at that point. Since she hadn’t…

  Well, this was her punishment.

  Then again, watching Trace while he was watching her move naked across the room… It was rather exciting. The way his eyes followed her made her feel sexy despite her modesty.

  But when she realized he had freed his cock from his jeans, that was when things got really interesting. At first she pretended not to notice, sneaking sideways glances at him. That didn’t last long when he began stroking himself. The man was delicious, and when he was doing that … she was riveted to the sight.

  “Come here, baby,” Trace ordered, his voice low, commanding.

  Marissa moved toward him without thinking.

  His hand continued to stroke his long, thick length even when he reached for her, tugging her down so that she was kneeling between his thighs.

  “I wanna feel those sweet lips on my dick.”

  God, she loved when he talked like that. She had no idea why, either. It simply did something for her. Her body heated instantly.

  Marissa allowed him to guide her head down, her mouth opening as she licked the wide, swollen head. Within seconds, she was completely immersed in giving her husband as much pleasure as he could take.

  “I want to fuck you… Ah, God, baby… That feels so damn good.”

  She didn’t stop, even when he tried to pull her away. Marissa knew what he was doing, but she wanted to make him come like this.

  “Marissa … oh, fuck.” His fingers tightened in her hair, sending electric shocks dancing down her spine. “Keep that up and I’m not gonna be able to stop.”

  That was exactly what she wanted.

  And she’d always been the type to go after what she wanted.

  Chapter Eight

  Thursday, December 8th

  “MARISSA!” TRACE HOLLERED when he came into the warehouse two days later. When Trace’s best friend had fallen in love with Marissa’s oldest brother, RT, Trace and Marissa had decided to convert the entire place to one large living space. Both floors. So now, they lived on the first and second floor, which, in a place this size, made it difficult to find his wife when he was looking for her. “Where are you?”

  Stepping out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel, Marissa watched him, surprise and curiosity etched on her pretty face. “What’re you doin’ home so early? I thought you were gonna be working late today.”

  Trace grinned. “It’s three thirty. I don’t consider that early.”

  “Any time before six is early for you,” she countered.

  True. She had him there.

  Shrugging out of his jacket, Trace watched his beautiful, sexy wife play the sweet, innocent woman. He knew she was trying to anticipate his next move. That was what she did.

  “What were you doing?” he asked.

  “Deciding what I want to make for dinner,” she stated, her gaze still locked on him, a cautious gleam sparkling there.

  “Did you come up with something?” He tossed his keys on the table.

  “Not yet, no.”

  “Well, I’ve decided what I want for dinner,” he told her as he shrugged out of his jacket.

  “And that would be?”

  Not wanting to leave her hanging, Trace tossed his jacket onto a chair and stalked her.

  “You, baby. That’s what I want for dinner.”

  Her smile was almost instant, making his entire body harden.

  “How did I know you were gonna say that?” she teased.

  He loved to see her smile, to hear her laugh. He was than
kful that she did both often. She was a ray of sunshine in his otherwise dark world. Although he loved his job, Trace still spent most of his time protecting people from various dangers that were threatening them. He liked that he could come home to her, to ignore the ominous threats to other people for a little while.

  Granted, the worst threat he’d ever faced had been the one to this very woman. A madman had thought she knew too much based on some information she’d obtained, and he’d stalked her for years, always finding her despite the fact her father had stashed her in numerous safe houses. Thankfully, that threat had been eliminated—by Trace’s brother-in-law, in fact—so he no longer had to think about that horrific time.

  Trace focused his attention on his wife, thinking about this moment only. Right here. Right now.

  “I’m thinking you have on too many clothes,” he mused, watching as she backed up to the bar.

  “I’m thinking that you should’ve called to warn me you were coming home.”

  “Where’s the fun in that?”

  “Well, maybe I could’ve showered or something,” she said, laughing when he pressed his body to hers.

  “Showers are overrated.”

  Marissa’s eyebrow curved up, clearly in disagreement. “Not when you’ve been scrubbing the refrigerator all day.”

  “All day?” He gave her a speculative look. “Our refrigerator wasn’t dirty enough to warrant an all-day cleaning.”

  “Whatever.”

  Despite her argument, he could smell her sweet fragrance, one that was unique to her. It was probably her shampoo or perfume, but it was still something that made him think of this incredible woman.

  “Come shower with me,” he whispered, leaning down and brushing his lips over hers.

  “Who’s gonna finish cleaning the fridge?” she asked, leaning back and smiling up at him.

  “I will,” he told her.

  “Really? Trace Kogan is going to clean the refrigerator? Right. Next, you’ll agree to do it in the nude.”

  “Would you like that?” he taunted. “Because I will. You know I will.”