Page 21 of Five Days of Christmas Spice

I try to swallow, cough, and force the words past the roar of my beating heart.

“That could be one of Vixen’s Paradise’s theme weeks.”

The resort seems to have plenty of them. I lean forward, aware that my nipples have pebbled. Negotiating is a heady high; the thrill floods my system with adrenaline, and it’s addictive.

That’s why I’ve made a name for myself in my chosen career. I put in the hours necessary to keep reaching for that thrill that a new contract brings.

“You read about our theme weeks?”

“It has to be a great draw. I did find it amusing that the week after Valentine’s Day is ‘Bring the spark back’ week.”

“That one is my brother Evan’s idea. Many couples have found it a great way to reset their marriage.” A shadow crosses his face, and I shift on the bench, wanting to change the tone back to play and fun.

“What else have you noticed about our fair establishment?” He takes a step back, and I wonder if he’s nervous, but I realize I’m happy for a longer pause.

“You treat your staff exceptionally well.”

“It’s a cornerstone of our business. Every property we own is held to the same high standards.”

“It is warm, evoking an old-timey feel, but everything is clean and perfectly set. It doesn’t feel cluttered.”

“Not chintzy?” Noel raises an eyebrow.

“Not at all.”

“Spread your legs as wide as you can.” The command is as cool as the window against my back. The stare he gives me is sizzling.

“Yes, Noel.” I don’t hesitate because the confident way he shifted from casual acquaintance to Dom doesn’t feel forced, but the next step in the game we’ve agreed to play.

“What’s your safeword, Holly?”

My mouth goes bone dry at his rich timbre.

“Bells,” I spit out. It’s the first thing that pops into my head.

“It fits the theme,” Noel says. “Tell me what you want me to do with this whipped cream.”

He holds the bowl up as if he’s holding a holy relic.

“Lick the whipped cream off my body, Noel.”

“You’re a beautiful woman, Holly, and you know it.” He takes the spoon from the bowl and kneels right in front of me.

“I don’t shy away from it.” I shrug, trying for nonchalance, but I’m quivering in anticipation. He slowly presses the cold metal spoon against the top of my breast, and the whipped cream flows in one long line, a dollop sliding down my breast to my nipple.

“Good.” Noel drips whipped cream against my other breast. He sets the bowl aside, then grabs hold of my hips, his hands firmly pressing into me.

His dark eyes smoulder. He leans forward, his mouth hotly presses to my breasts, his tongue flicks over my nipple, and I grasp, my hips rocking forward on the bench.

My belly tightens, and I’m instantly wet as my nerve endings wake up from their long neglect. Noel sucks my nipple between his teeth.

I hiss but want more of his mouth on me. I thread my fingers through his silky hair. It’s odd to touch a man who isn’t Phil, but also thrilling. My head swoons.

He lifts his mouth from my nipple and licks my sensitive flesh, his tongue following the path of whipped cream.

I’m lost in the hot, prickly sensations of his lips sealing against my flesh. He switches sides, sucking in my nipple harshly, as if he can’t get enough.

“Oh!” I cry out, needy with want.

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