All She Wants for XXX-Mas: An Erotic Christmas Romance Story Read online

  All She Wants for XXX-Mas:

  An erotic Christmas romance story

  by NATHAN STRATTON

  Copyright 2012 Nathan Stratton. All rights reserved.

  Reproduction of this work prohibited unless express permission is granted by the author.

  Art credit: Nathan Stratton, with license from www.depositphotos.com.

  Approx. word count: 7,065

  If you’ve purchased this book, please consider leaving a review after reading it.

  I read all my reviews, and I take feedback very seriously. Thank you.

  Contact Nathan at [email protected].

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter 1: Another Lonely Christmas?

  Chapter 2: Fuel for the Fire

  Chapter 3: All She Wants for Christmas

  Chapter 4: …And to All a Good Night

  Chapter 1: Another Lonely Christmas?

  Christie sighed heavily and slammed the car door shut. The window rattled loudly against the rusty, worn-out frame.

  Great, she thought to herself. Another thing I’ll need to fix soon. With a slight groan, she lifted her heavy purse onto her shoulder and turned towards the volunteer center.

  Every December, Christie spent a month at her town’s food bank, sorting cans into bags and toys into bins. Then, on Christmas Eve, the volunteers would drive around in big vans and deliver all the toys to kids in the neighborhood. Christie loved volunteering. It was such a perfect Christmas tradition, and it always put her in the holiday spirit. Volunteering was usually the one thing that could cheer her up in the lonely winter months – but this December, even that wasn’t enough.

  She’d been having a rough time of it lately, rougher than she’d like to admit. In the summer, she’d lost her job as a paralegal at a big firm downtown. Though her company had claimed it was just another round of layoffs, she knew – or at least she suspected – it was because she’d rejected her boss’s flirtatious advances at a company retreat.

  “I have a boyfriend,” she’d said, and it was true at the time. She’d been living with a guy, an artist named Steve, and she’d thought things were going great. But just two months after the layoff, Steve had ditched her for some 21-year-old floozy he’d met at a bar. Christie couldn’t understand why he’d done it, and it took a few months for her to get over him. Now she understood, of course: Steve was an asshole, plain and simple. She was better off without him, she knew that much.

  But still, it was shaping up to be another lonely Christmas.

  Christie walked in through the door of the volunteer center, and a little bell rang above her head. “Hello!” she called out, to no one in particular, and threw her bag down on the table. “…Anyone here?”

  Dead quiet. The place was empty – not surprising, considering how few volunteers they had this year. As her co-worker Alice liked to say, “there’s too many who need it, and not enough to give it out.” Christie had always chalked up this remark to just being more of Alice’s dark humor. But after the rough year she’d had, Christie knew exactly what Alice was talking about.

  Just then, she heard a voice coming from the back room, out by the loading dock. Not just any voice, either. Even through the heavy walls, she could tell that sexy baritone from a mile away.

  It was Michael, the director of the volunteer center.

  Christie’s heart skipped a beat, in spite of herself. Even though Michael was a good ten years older than her, and even though he was technically her boss, Christie just couldn’t resist harboring a slight crush on him – okay, maybe a bigger-than-slight crush.

  She couldn’t help it. They’d been working at the center together for years, and Michael never failed to make Christie laugh. He’d been there for her when she lost her job, and again when her jerk of an ex-boyfriend broke her heart. Michael was nothing like Steve. He was so kind, so selfless, so… honorable. And it didn’t hurt that all those years lifting heavy Christmas boxes had given him the body of a god.

  In all the previous Christmas seasons, things had never seemed anything but platonic between Michael and Christie. But this year, something was different. Christie had only been back for a few days, but already she was noticing a charge in the air that hadn’t been there before.

  Like the time she and Michael were going over reports together, and his hand accidentally brushed over hers. She’d found it hard to focus on the reports for ten minutes after that. Or the time she’d stumbled while stepping through the doorway, and Michael caught her arm. She’d had butterflies the rest of the day.

  Small things like that kept happening – innocent stuff, really, easily written off – and the cumulative effect it was having on Christie was impossible to ignore. Every day, for her, was now a rollercoaster of emotions. It was like waking up to something you’ve known all along: once she noticed her feelings for Michael, she couldn’t push them back out of her mind, no matter how hard she tried. She just didn’t know whether or not Michael felt the same way.

  And after almost a week of this delicious, uncertain turmoil, Christie knew things were going to boil over pretty soon, one way or another.

  So it was understandable, then, that Christie found herself sneaking a once-over in the office mirror before heading out to the back room, just to make sure her hair was in place and her makeup looked okay. She was thirty-one years old, but she felt like a high-schooler in his presence. It’s just Michael, she scolded herself, as she pushed an errant curl of hair back behind her ear. There’s no need to preen!

  She could hear laughter behind the door. Michael was probably joking around with Rick, the office clown. Oh, just get out there already, Christie’s inner voice demanded. Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and pushed the door open.

  “Hey, Christie!” said Michael, turning to face her as she walked in. He looked gorgeous this morning, wearing dark jeans and an olive green V-neck that perfectly accentuated his broad frame. “How’s it going, babe?” he asked.

  Christie smiled, inwardly relishing the word “babe” and the fact that he’d visibly brightened when he saw her. She hoped she wasn’t blushing. “Hi, guys!” she said cheerfully, and walked over to the table where they were sitting. “How’s business?”

  “Spectacular,” said Michael, rolling his eyes playfully. “As you can see, we’re hard at work here.” He was sitting on the tabletop, his legs swung casually over the edge, eating a bagel. He was the picture of nonchalance. Rick was holding a clipboard and smiling from ear to ear, as if he’d just been caught telling a dirty joke.

  “You seem like you’re in a good mood,” said Christie, turning to Rick. “Did you get lucky last night or something?”

  Rick burst out laughing. “I wish,” he said. He shot an amused look at Michael. “Michael and I were just talking about that, actually.”

  Christie stopped short, a stricken look on her face. What could that mean? she wondered to herself. Has Michael met someone? Trying to look unconcerned, she turned to Michael and asked him as much. “Oh, yeah?” she said, with measured indifference. “Someone new in the picture, Michael?”

  Michael looked at Christie steadily. “Sort of,” he said slowly, watching Christie’s expression and observing the effect of each word as he spoke. “There’s someone I’m interested in, but I’m not sure if they feel the same way as I do.”

  Christie plastered a false, cheery smile on her face, while inwardly her mind started racing. He had to be talking about her, right? Or was she imagining the whole thing? She realized the men were waiting for her to say something. She swallowed hard, trying to find her voice.<
br />
  “Well, how are you going to find out?” she managed. “Are you going to tell her how you feel? Give her a sign or something?”

  He smiled back at her, his eyes full of meaning. “She’ll know when she sees it,” he said.

  They looked at each other for a long second, each trying to read the other’s face. Christie felt lightheaded, like all the air had been sucked out of the room. Her mouth opened, about to speak. Michael’s eyes widened in anticipation.

  Suddenly, Rick interjected, ruining the moment. “Attaboy, Michael!” he guffawed, slapping Michael on the back. “Put some candy in her stocking, if you know what I mean!” He cackled with glee.

  Michael stood up abruptly. He looked annoyed all of a sudden. “All right, Rick,” he said, “That’s enough out of you. Why don’t you get back to work already?” He tried to make it sound like a joke, but Christie detected a definite hint of awkwardness in his normally confident voice. What’s that all about? she wondered.

  “Fine, fine,” said Rick, putting up his hands in mock surrender. “I’ve got some toys to sort, anyway. And a Merry Christmas to you, Michael.” He sauntered off, whistling the first few bars of “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.”

  Michael turned to Christie. He seemed to be searching for something to say. “Christie, I– ”

  Christie stopped him before he could speak. “It’s all right, Michael,” she said, putting her hand in front of her, as if to push away his words before they came out. “Whatever that was about, you don’t have to explain it. Anyway, we’ve got a lot of work to do today – we’d better get started!”

  She turned as if to go, but Michael caught her hand. His touch was an electric shock. She looked into his eyes. He seemed as surprised by his actions as she was. Suddenly, irrationally, she was gripped by a fear that Michael could read her thoughts.

  Just at that moment, still holding her by the wrist, the confidence in Michael’s eyes returned. The corner of his mouth curled up in a crooked smile, the type of smile that could send a girl’s stomach into fits.

  “Thanks, Christie,” said Michael. “I knew you’d understand.” He pulled her in closer, and gave her a hug. He was a good six inches taller than she was, and her face hit his chest. Christie gasped. She loved the way he smelled: clean and masculine, with a hint of cologne on his body. She pulled away before she melted.

  She looked up into his face, trying hard not to betray the whirlwind of emotions she was feeling. He was still wearing that same damn smile.

  “Don’t mention it!” she said breathlessly, and flashed a quick, nervous smile of her own back at him. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…” She hurried back inside, her mind racing and her heart pounding.

  Christie didn’t quite know what had just happened. She didn’t know which way was up, down, or sideways, for that matter. All she knew was that the warmth from Michael’s touch was still lingering on her skin, and that her face was still flushed and buzzing with pleasure.

  Yeah, okay, so maybe her crush on Michael was bigger-than-slight.

  Chapter 2: Fuel for the Fire

  When she got back into the office, Christie had to pause for a minute to catch her breath. Wow, she thought. It was the only word her mind could articulate at the moment. Wow, wow, wow.

  After she had a second to compose herself, she looked around to make sure no one had been watching. Of course, the office was still totally empty. Christie didn’t know why she felt so guilty all of a sudden. Even if someone had seen the exchange she’d just had with Michael, so what? There was nothing wrong with an innocent hug.

  But still – the charge she’d gotten when he’d held her… that wasn’t something easily forgotten, something you could just ignore.

  Christie decided the best thing to do was to head to the bathroom, splash some water on her face, and try to get a hold of herself. If she had any hope of getting any work done at all today, she had to try and shake all thoughts of Michael out of her mind.

  That was easier said than done, of course. When she entered the bathroom and caught a look at herself in the mirror, she realized how flushed her cheeks were. Not only that, she could see – and suddenly, feel – that her nipples were un-ignorably aroused, sticking out noticeably from under her sweater. Oh my God, Christie thought to herself. What if Michael had seen that?

  She copped a quick feel of herself, verifying what she already knew. Hard as ice. And just like ice, the mere sensation of her bra rubbing against her aroused nipples sent a shivering chill down her spine.

  Christie bit her lip. She glanced at the clock: still just 9:30 in the morning. Did she have time to do what she was thinking about doing? There was still at least half an hour before Alice showed up, and she knew no one would enter the women’s bathroom to disturb her.

  Before she’d even fully made up her mind, Christie’s hand had found its way between her legs. She began touching herself through her jeans.

  “Mmm,” she groaned. She couldn’t believe how horny she was. She’d never been so turned on from something as simple as a hug before. Not even Steve had held that power over her.

  As she rubbed with her right hand, the fingertips of her left began undoing the button of her jeans. She pulled down the zipper and snuck a hand beneath her underwear, closing her eyes. She was already sopping wet, and her fingers slid inside herself easily. Her knees buckled as the sweet, gratifying pleasure flowed through her. She steadied herself with one hand on the bathroom sink.

  Just as she began to really get into it, she heard the creak of the outer bathroom door. It gave her the shock of her life. Her eyes flew wide open, and she jumped up in panic. She knew she had about two seconds before the person came in and saw what was going on. In one fluid motion, Christie pulled her pants closed, straightened her blouse, and for some reason decided to turn on the hot water faucet. She turned to face the mirror.

  The interior door opened slowly, and she heard heavy footsteps behind her. She looked into the mirror and gasped.

  It was Michael.

  Before her next thought had time to even register, Michael had crossed the small bathroom in two long strides and put his hand on her shoulder. With his left hand, he covered her mouth – a good thing, too, because Christie was so shocked that she was liable to let out a scream.

  “Shh,” he said, looking into her eyes through the mirror. She gazed back at him, dumbstruck like a deer in headlights. She didn’t know what he was doing in here, or what he wanted. She didn’t even know if she liked it or not. But she knew she was about to find out.

  “Can you breathe?” asked Michael. Christie nodded.

  “Are you going to scream?” he asked. She shook her head.

  “Okay, then,” he said, and released his hand from her mouth while keeping his right hand firmly on her shoulder. The hot water was still running; he reached around her and turned it off. She tried to spin around and face him, but he grabbed her and held her in place. She could feel the heat from his body behind her. The whole time this was happening, he never took his eyes off her reflection in the mirror.

  “Michael, what are you—” began Christie, but that was as far as she got. He bent down and kissed her neck, softly, in the delicate spot between her chin and her shoulder. Christie gasped in surprise and pleasure. It felt like heaven. She closed her eyes. He pulled her closer against him, and she leaned back into his broad, muscular body. She realized, with surprise, that she could feel his erection pressing into her.

  From that point forward, few words were exchanged between them. Michael preferred to let his fingers do the talking. Still kissing her neck, he pressed his hand against her crotch and began to rub Christie through her jeans, just as she’d been doing a few moments before. But while Christie had been touching herself with the urgent, frantic pace of a woman in heat, Michael was using slow, firm, deliberate strokes. It was driving her crazy, and they both knew it. She bucked and squirmed in his grasp.

  Michael unzipped her jeans, still not speaking a word. H
e took his time, obviously enjoying having Christie right where he wanted her, powerless to resist. He lifted his mouth from her neck and brought it up to her ear. As his fingers slid down beneath her panties, he exhaled deeply, his hot breath giving her goosebumps all down her body. She moaned.

  His fingers spread into a V and moved down the sides of her vagina, just brushing the outer lips. As he brought them back up, his middle finger moved over her clit, just for a second before moving away. The anticipation was killing her. Michael watched her reaction in the mirror as he sent shockwaves coursing through her body. Her eyes begged him to go further, but he stubbornly kept up this game of tension and release.

  Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of teasing, his fingers found her clit and stayed there, moving steadily back and forth. Christie moaned again as the first hints of an orgasm began to build inside her. Her legs went weak, and it was getting hard to stay standing. If he hadn’t been holding her so forcefully, she would have fallen over onto the floor.