Page 15 of Five Days of Christmas Spice

Adorable spots of red splash on her cheeks.

“In my experience, that makes you a rare man.” Her tone is detached and cool.

I have the racing urge to plunge through her defences until I have this woman figured out. I can’t say no to a challenge.

“Would you like to elaborate?” I’m curious if she’ll tell me more.

“Good evening, Mr. Brennon. What can I get you to drink?” Lori, one of our servers, interrupts us.

“I’d like a whiskey neat. Holly?”

“Same, please.”

“Thanks, Lori.”

Holly takes a sip of water and regards me coolly.

“You were saying?”

“No. You asked me if I wanted to elaborate. I was considering it.”

Laughter breaks from my chest, and I can’t help but grin. I like this woman a lot.

“My brothers and I have built this place for consenting adults to indulge in anything their minds can come up with. I enjoy playing with a woman who knows what she wants.”

“And not how much she can take?” Holly spits out the words with such vitriol I want to wrap her in my arms and hold her.

“I’m not into dishing out pain, Holly,” I reach for her hand, and she lets me hold it. “I am more into how much pleasure I can wring out of a woman until she’s screaming for mercy.”

Lori is back at our table and sets down the glasses of whiskey, and another server places a plate in front of each of us.

The food is gorgeous and mouth-watering, exactly as it should be. Vixen’s Paradise isn’t some afterthought; everything from the food to the accommodations is excellent, and I’m so pleased it runs with our high standards in mind.

“Potato waffle with smoked salmon, fig with goat cheese, and a cucumber prawn cocktail cup,” Lori explains.

“Gerald has outdone himself as usual. Thanks, Lori,” I say. “What would you like to try first?”

“The salmon.”

“Allow me,” I lift the delicate bite from the plate, holding it to her mouth. “Open.”

The pulse at the hollow of her throat jumps. I wait to see if she’ll give into this little test of surrender.

Her glossy lips open, and my cock throbs.

I gently feed her the canape, leaving my finger on the centre of her soft lips as she chews, only removing it when she is done swallowing it.

“That is a perfect bite.”

I pop the other potato thing into my mouth. “We pride ourselves on service, Holly.”

“Do you often have dinner with your guests? Is that part of the service?” Her little smirk is delightful, the cool tone scathing, and I want to know what this woman does because if she spends her days selling screen protectors, I’m Mr. Claus.

“This is the first time I have had dinner with a guest. It must be Christmas in the air.”

“What do you usually do for Christmas?”

I bristle, the question momentarily catching me off guard because I have done my best to ignore Christmas for the past three years.

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