Deck the Boss: A holiday office romance

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by Stella Andrews




  Deck the Boss

  A holiday office romance

  Stella Andrews

  Copyrighted Material

  Copyright © Stella Andrews 2020

  Stella Andrews has asserted her rights under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the Author of this work.

  This book is a work of fiction and except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes only.

  18+ This book is for Adults only. If you are easily shocked and not a fan of sexual content then move away now.

  18+

  Contents

  Join the club

  Books by Stella Andrews in the order written

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Epilogue

  Book News

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  stellaandrews.com

  Books by Stella Andrews in the order written

  Starred Books = Reaper Romance

  The Highest Bidder (Logan & Samantha)

  Rocked (Jax & Emily)

  Daddy’s Girls (Ryder & Ashton) *

  Twisted (Sam & Kitty) *

  The Billion Dollar baby (Tyler & Sydney) *

  Bodyguard (Jet & Lucy) *

  Bad Influence (Max & Summer)

  Flash (Flash & Sally) *

  Country Girl (Tyson & Sunny) *

  Breaking Beauty (Sebastian & Angel) *

  Owning Beauty (Tobias & Anastasia)

  Broken Beauty (Maverick & Sophia) *

  The Throne of Pain (Lucian & Riley)

  The Throne of Hate (Dante & Isabella)

  The Throne of Fear (Romeo & Ivy)

  Deck the Boss

  Deck the Boss

  1

  Carla

  I’ve always loved Christmas. I’m that girl who starts planning it in the Summer and heads off on vacation for Christmas in July. The girl who decorates every room and hangs fairy lights through October to February. I can’t get enough of it, and so when my friend at work dared me to dress as a fairy for the office party, it was just a question of how far do I go with this?

  Rather far as it happens because as I twirl around admiring myself in the mirror, I congratulate myself on a costume masterpiece. Even my wings are functional, and that’s hard to pull off. Just by pulling down on a string, they flutter so hard I’m sure I could actually fly there if I was brave enough. However, I may be brave, but I’m not stupid, so I just admire my reflection and congratulate myself on a job well done.

  By the time I reach Proctor and Steele, the PR company where I spend most of my days, I’m ready to party. It takes some maneuvering to get inside the elevator because my dress is rather large and poufy, and the neckline is rather daring. I just hope the invisible tape holds out because I’m not sure I want to flash my inner sparkle at the people I have to face at our daily brainstorming meetings in the New Year.

  “Carla, my god, that costume’s amazing, you’re such a legend.”

  Stacey, my friend who dared me in the first place, laughs in delight as she watches me approach. As usual, I’m the only person in fancy dress, unless you count Robert Stammers, who always dresses as Santa.

  I spin around and flutter my wings and stand on tiptoes, singing,

  ♫Falalalala lalalalala. ♫

  The music is loud, but it doesn’t stop everyone looking in my direction and I see the amused grins of my fellow workers, who would have expected no less from me.

  Gareth, the accountant from level 6, staggers over and bellows, “Just the girl I was looking for. I dare you to go a round of Tequila with me.”

  “You dare me, huh, a fairy with magical powers and the spirit of Christmas at her fingertips.”

  “Yes, Tinkerbell, you. Nobody else is game enough. I’ve been saving this beauty all year and you’re the lucky lady who gets to down it with me.”

  Stacey shakes her head and points her phone at me. I’ve always been a bit of an exhibitionist, so I bow to her camera and blow fairy kisses around the room and follow Gareth to a nearby desk where he’s set up a line of shot glasses alongside a line of lemon and piles of salt.

  Fluttering my wings for the camera, I say loudly, “Let the merriment commence.”

  A small circle forms around us as we take our positions, and many phones point in our direction as we raise the first glass. Tequila and me are old friends and I could probably drink Gareth under the table and still be up for my next challenge, so I hold up my glass and wink at the camera, as the people watching start the countdown. “3-2-1…”

  I lick the salt off my hand and down the shot, with a squeeze of lemon for good measure. Then I work my way through the rest in a race of the most foolish kind. Obviously, I’m the winner. It was never in any doubt and a loud cheer goes up as I slam down the final shot and Gareth groans in defeat.

  My favorite Christmas song comes on over the speakers and I jump on the desk, the glasses scattering below.

  “Merry Christmas everyone…”

  I dance and sing in my own private show, as my colleagues join in and Stacey jumps on the desk with me and we sway to the music, singing at the top of our voices with our arms wrapped around one another’s shoulders. I feel as if I’m on the bar of Coyote Ugly as I perform for my fans, and with Stacey’s encouragement, I give it everything I’ve got.

  Yes, the office Christmas party is living up to expectations because I look forward to this all year. A chance to let my hair down and unleash my inner crazy because Carla Evans is a party animal that takes things to the extreme.

  There’s something so appealing about drinking free alcohol out of plastic cups, while behaving outrageously at a place where business is always the name of the game. Behaving badly is the sweetest pleasure in front of colleagues who don’t crack a smile for much of the year. Dancing with the guy you openly flirt with over the photocopier is the most delicious form of pleasure and seeing him through a pair of alcohol colored spectacles, makes you believe he’s Prince Charming to your Cinderella.

  So, I don’t need any more encouragement when said crush thrusts another plastic cup in one hand and pulls me against in him another and growls, “I need mistletoe and fast.”

  Laughing, I spin him around until we are standing under the fake stuff that’s always in pole position on office party night and land one on him before I can sober up enough to care.

  To my surprise, it’s not like in the movies. I don’t get that flutter inside that tells me I’ve met ‘the one.’ All I get is the saliva of a man who obviously never learned to swallow, and hands that start wandering under my extremely short skirt.

 
; I’m not drunk enough to go with the flow and pull back and slur, “Not so fast, I’m not the naughty fairy, you know and if Santa sees you, he’ll place you on the naughty list quicker than you can say ho, ho, ho.”

  Giggling, I step away, right into the path of Mr. Garrison, my manager, who steadies me and laughs, “Good to see you on fine form, Carla, maybe you should head to the coffee machine before heading home. An inebriated fairy taking the subway on Christmas Eve, is not a good example to set.”

  Swaying slightly, I stare at my manager and decide he’s rather quite handsome and open my mouth to tell him, when Stacey appears and drags me off before I can speak. “Come on fairy princess, let’s go and dance.”

  It’s so loud in here and I am out of control. I lose count of how many people I dance with and scream the words to the songs in all the wrong order. My hand is never empty of a plastic cup of poison and so, when a voice makes its way out of the chaos and shouts, “Hey, Tinkerbell, I dare you to lap dance Oliver Steele.”

  Stacey grabs my arm and says fiercely, “Oh no, no,no,no,no, no, come on, this has gone far enough.”

  I can almost taste her disapproval, which makes me giggle, and I thrust my cup at her and say defiantly, “Accepted.”

  “Carla, no, that’s not a good idea.” Stacey looks worried but another voice from the crowd shouts, “Yes, it is, make sure you get photographic evidence, otherwise the dare doesn’t count.”

  Laughing, I pick up my wand and flutter my wings and say with a slur, “Watch and be amazed my daring friend. Consider it done.”

  Somehow, Stacey gets pushed out of my way by the crowd chanting, Carla, Carla, Carla and I give short bows as I back out of the room and blow kisses to the masses. Yes, lap dance that scrooge upstairs who wouldn’t know how to have fun if it hit him on the head. Sounds like a perfect plan to me and it will cement the legend in stone. Carla Evans is the most daring girl in the room and I will not let their faith in me down.

  2

  Oliver

  I look forward to Christmas Eve for all the wrong reasons because it gives me time to get my head down and work with no distractions. My staff are given a pass at 4 o’clock to either head home, or change for the annual office party, and I am left in solitary bliss to get some actual work done.

  I never stop working, which suits me just fine because I have worked my butt off to prove to my father than I’m a worthy successor. Now he’s stepped back and left me in charge, which means I have to prove myself even more. It’s all down to me and so, I take no days off, have no distractions and just enjoy the odd date occasionally to keep me sane.

  The darkness, shields me from the world outside and in here, in my office, it feels as if I’m the only person left working in the country, which is why I’m surprised when the elevator pings, making me look at the monitor on my desk.

  I watch the door open and then something that resembles a fairy dances out of it, dressed in the naughtiest fairy costume I have ever seen. Red and white stripy holdups with fur around the tops are wobbling on high red stilettos that glitter like Dorothy’s red shoes.

  A white, tutu style skirt hovers just below an angel’s ass and I blink as I see a shapely waist, above which are two very full breasts stuffed into a corset type thing. Long dark wavy hair flows around her shoulders and perched on her head is a Santa’s hat that makes her look cute.

  I start to laugh softly as she pirouettes along the carpeted hallway and jumps in the air as if she’s in Swan Lake. Her wings that are absolutely huge are fluttering like a demented fairy who is trying to learn how to fly and I can’t hear a word, but she appears to be singing and filming herself on her phone.

  Settling back in my chair, I watch with amusement as she heads my way and I thank my brother for choosing an attractive one this year. Last year, he sent an elf gram and the woman must have been a day over fifty and that’s putting it kindly. I think the year before was a sexy Santa, that one was ok, although she was a little loud for my liking.

  I can feel my cock hardening in anticipation as I anticipate a bit of light relief because sadly that’s all I’ve got to look forward to this Christmas.

  Christmas grams are my brother’s ‘go to’ gift and I’m not complaining. They are always on the naughtier side, and he appears to have hit the jackpot with this one.

  This fairy is putting everything into it, obviously getting into character, as she dances her way to my door.

  She’s an attractive one and my interest is now firmly gripped as I think about taking an hour off to indulge in a bit of ‘me time’ before finishing the Sanderson project and then staggering home to endure Christmas day with my parents.

  No, I’ll have a bit of fun first and this little fairy is just what I asked Santa for.

  Leaning back in my chair, I see her approach the office door and wonder what’s running through her head right now. Not a lot, by the looks of it, because she is giggling and waving her wand around, as if casting her magic on my assistant’s desk, the wheelie chair and even the pot plant.

  Then she taps on the door and I hear her shout, “Somebody told me a scrooge lives in here, come out wherever you are.”

  She obviously finds herself amusing because she giggles again and then almost falls into my office as she pushes the door open.

  She steadies herself and then looks around, before finding me watching her like a predator from the safety of my office chair.

  “There you are you naughty boy.”

  She straightens up and flutters her wings and then dances around my office, singing,

  ♫ Deck the halls with boughs of holly, falalalalala,lalalala. Tis the season to be jolly ♫

  She trips and wobbles on her impossibly high shoes and I laugh softly. She’s adorable.

  “Oops, sorry, I should have stuck learner plates on these bad boys.”

  She starts to sway suggestively toward me and I feel my cock dancing with delight, as she stands before my desk and says seductively, “I am the Christmas fairy and I’m here to insist you have some Christmas fun.”

  “Is that right?”

  I stare at her with an interest that’s growing by the second because this woman is gorgeous. Her dark hair looks long and soft, and I imagine it draped all over my chest as I fuck her in this chair. Her breasts heave as they fight for freedom from the tightest red corset outlined in white fur. Her eyes sparkle and her ruby red lips are plump and as she wets them with her tongue, I am keen to get started.

  She stares at me long and hard and without breaking eye contact, heads around the desk and places her hands on my shoulders. Then she leans down and whispers, “I’ve got something for you.”

  I can’t tear my eyes away as she swings her leg over mine and sits astride me, while holding her hands in the air and gyrating slowly with her eyes closed. I can’t stop staring at her because it’s such a beautiful sight. She appears to be in her own little world and then something snaps her out of it as she says apologetically, “Oops, sorry, I almost forgot.”

  Grabbing her phone, she presses something and soft Christmas music plays out and she smiles sexily and says breathlessly, “May I?”

  Leaning toward me, she turns and takes a quick photo of us and then giggles. “Got ya.”

  My hands move to her waist as she resumes her position and starts gyrating slowly and seductively on my lap, and I almost groan out loud.

  She’s good, I must remember to thank my brother for this one.

  She licks her lips and then grinds herself lower and I feel her rubbing my shaft against her pussy and it sends the heat tearing through me.

  Then she lowers her lips to mine and tastes me like she’s sampling the finest caviar. Slowly, gently and deliberately and I can’t believe how turned on I am.

  Reaching up, I run my fingers through her long luxurious hair and as I thought, it feels like silk against my skin. I deepen the kiss and as our tongues entwine, I taste a little piece of Christmas magic because this girl is good, she certainly kn
ows her stuff, and she has brought her ‘A’ game tonight.

  3

  Carla

  I think I’m in the Twilight Zone. Somehow, I have made my way to the promised land because the man who seems quite happy to play along is seriously hot. So hot I think it melted every principle I own because as soon as I saw him, I was interested. Even the fact I am impossibly drunk doesn’t concern me. Life is a blur, but he is outlined in lust, standing in the center and offering himself up to me on a plate.

  Unlike my office crush, this one is all man and maybe it’s the fact my brain is taking an early holiday but I am not wasting this opportunity.

  Oliver Steele is a god who sits up here in the clouds and never steps off his pedestal. He’s a legend in Proctor and Steele and I have heard all the gossip and been intrigued for months, ever since he stepped up and took over from his father. Occasionally, I get a glimpse of him as he strides through reception on his way to the top floor and I’m no different to any other woman, or some men, who would love to notch him up on their bed post.

  Now he’s kissing me, wildly, deeply and with a passion and I am not going to pass up this opportunity. If I’m surprised at this, I push it aside because this is my Christmas gift to myself—him. God knows it’s been so long since I had a man in my bed, or out of it for that matter, so desperate isn’t the word, raging hoe, hoe, hoe is the description that best suits me because I am going all the way on this.

 

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