Stockings and Suspenders (11 page)

The snow had finally stopped after
blanketing everything in a perfect white stillness. She watched some red birds
snacking in the feeder right outside his window and gasped at seeing a family
of deer casually strolling by the lake.

Part of her wished she'd never have to
leave this little slice of heaven. Part of her wanted to go grab her MacBook
and start writing again. That was the part she listened to, going down the
stairs to pour an orange juice and grab her computer bag.

Sometime that night Brian had invited
her to go to the big Christmas lunch over at his granny's house. She'd politely
declined, not wanting to have to share her dream guy with anyone else. Thinking
of her own family, and how he sister was most likely freaking out, she checked
her cell. No signal. For some reason that made her smile.

Minerva went back upstairs and got under
the covers propping up on Brian's side of the bed. She turned on her MacBook,
pulled up a blank document and much to her amazement the words started flowing
again.

Her muse was back!

Chapter Eight

“Hey, I'm sorry I was gone so long.”

Minerva looked up from her MacBook to
find Brian with a tray loaded down with food.

“I fixed you a doggie bag.” He laughed
slipping Marvey a bite of turkey.

Twenty-seven pages and she didn't want
to stop writing, but damn if that plate of food didn't look as good as it smelled.
Turkey and dressing, cranberry sauce, mashed sweet potatoes and green beans
along with two biscuits so fluffy they practically melted in her mouth.

“I think this is the best meal I've
ever eaten.” She smiled up at him. “Thank you, and not just for the food and
shelter from the storm. You've given me my muse back.”

“Glad I could help.” He leaned over to
kiss her. “I sure could get used to coming home and finding you sitting around
writing in my bathrobe.”

“I think I could get used to you
getting me out of it.” She sat the tray aside and untied the robe, letting it
fall to the floor. “I believe you're over dressed.”

Minerva undid his shirt so fast it's a
wonder the buttons didn't go flying. With those beautiful muscles exposed she
kissed her way down to the waistband of his jeans. It would have been nice to
slow down to really taste his flesh and appreciate the hardness of his abs, but
she wanted him in her again so bad there was no time for foreplay.

She shoved him onto the bed,
straddling him. Her writing had already gotten her so wet that his dick slide
right into place. Right where she wanted him. On his back. Totally at her
mercy.

His smile chipped away at places much
deeper than her pussy. The part of her she'd learned to lock away to keep her
heart safe. It was exhilarating and scary all at the same time. She clutched at
her own breasts trying to keep her heart from bursting. Plucking at her nipples
brought her back to the sex, to that safe place of feeling instead of thinking.

She leaned over him offering up her
cupped breasts like a Christmas gift. He covered both her breasts in kisses.
His mouth electrifying on her flesh.

Leaning back she took his hand,
licking his fingers before guiding him to her clit. She rode him hard while his
fingers completely sent her over the edge riding orgasm after orgasm until it
all because so intense she had to roll off him.

With her legs spread, she offered up
her pussy. Letting him pound her again.

“Oh, fuck me, Brian,” she begged in a
voice that was not her own.

And fuck her he did.

She wrapped her legs around his waist
squeezing him into a place where his cock hit all the right spots. It was so
good she couldn't stop screaming and soon he joined her coming with a roar and
collapsing into her arms.

“Merry fucking Christmas,” he said
licking a bead of sweat off her neck.

“I'll say.”

Chapter Nine

With the snow melting Brian had no
other choice but to take her car keys and go meet his brother-in-law to get her
car out of the side of I-40. He'd left her sitting on his bed once again
wrapped up in his robe, her fingers flying across the keyboard of her laptop.

When he got back to his house he just
stood there for a moment just watching her write. She'd been so into her work
that she didn't even notice him for a minute.  He loved that blissed out look
on her face, the same way she looked right before she came. All flushed and so
intense and so damn sexy.

“I got your car,” he finally said.
“It's waiting for you at the bottom of the hill.”

“What can I ever do to repay your
kindness?” She looking up with her green sparkling. “You gave me my muse back.”

“You gave me the most incredible night
of my life.”

She laughed a bit too nervously for
his tastes. He'd obviously said too much or at least too soon.

“You were pretty fucking awesome
yourself.” She kissed him tenderly before heading to the bathroom to get
dressed.

Sitting down on the bed he clutched
his robe, breathing in her scent, a unique blend of lavender and sex. He'd
never be able to wear that robe without thinking of her and right now thinking
of her and not having her here with him was more than he could handle.

When she came out of the bathroom he
handed her the robe. “Wanna take this with you?”

Minerva hugged him, clutching the robe
between them. “You have no idea what you've done for me.”

She sat down on the bed, busying
herself with tucking the robe into her suitcase before looking up at him.

“Every since I got my new contract
I've not been able to write. I was so scared I'd never write another coherent
sentence every again. Then today I've written over forty solid pages.”

She stood, wrapping her arms around
his neck before kissing him. “You brought my muse back to life.”

Chapter Ten

Brian didn't know what to say to fill
the uneasy silence enveloping his truck. He'd left her car in his sister's
driveway at the bottom of the hill. The roads were clear now and he knew she'd
have no problem making it safely to Asheville. There was no reason for her to
stay any longer.

There was nothing left to do but help
her load up her bags into the Mini. He scratched Marvey's head in an
affectionate good bye, wishing they didn't have to go.

“Will you call me when you get to your
sister's?” he asked, handing her his family construction business card with his
cell phone number already scrawled across the back. “I want to make sure you
get there okay.”

“Yeah sure,” she said, not even making
eye contact.

She gave him a quick peck of a kiss
and drove off before he could even get her number.

* * * *

Tears were streaming down Minerva’s face
by the time she made it to the I-40 entrance ramp. Before she could change her
mind she slammed on the breaks, coming to a dead stop right before pulling onto
the Interstate. She checked her phone and found four bars and most likely a
voice mail box full of messages from her sister.

She punched in Brian's number and he
answered on the second ring.

“Hey, it's Minerva,” she said,
struggling to keep her voice from shaking.

“Hey,” he said, his voice so bright
she could feel his smile all the way through her iPhone. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I was just thinking,” she
hesitated then took a deep breath. “I'll be coming back this way on the 31st.”

“Have you got any plans for New Years
Eve?” he asked.

“Not really.”

“Well, you do now.”

The End

www.jezebeljorge.com

NAUGHTY & NICE

Lila Shaw

Copyright © 2011

Chapter One

Not everyone wants a Christmas present
from Macy’s or ToysRUs. Some want nothing more than to feel a little love, the
touch of a hand, a warm smile. Others wish for racier gifts. While Santa alone
determines who’s been naughty and who’s been nice, he outsources the delivery
of certain specialty items. Shocking, I know, but those elves can’t make
everything and some Christmas presents are beyond Santa’s expertise.

Christmas is one of my favorite times
of year. I’m busy, yes, but my succubus hunger for sex is sated for months
after the twelve days of Christmas. The Christmas day deliveries are the most
special of course, reserved for the nicest of the nice.

I await my assignment to arrive on my
communicator. Santa checks his lists twice before doling out the tasks; he’s so
meticulous. Ah, here he comes.

“Chrissy, Hope you are well. You
and your incubus brothers and succubus sisters will be busy tonight and
tomorrow. It seems every year your list grows faster than mine. Maybe it has to
do with the baby boomers or perhaps it’s due to excessive media exposure. I
don’t know…”

I pause to roll my eyes and keep
reading about blah, blah, blah, yadda, yadda, yadda… Santa can be so
long-winded sometimes. After lifting an eyebrow at a suggestive joke he’s
included, I finally reach the assignment specifics.

“Your services are requested for
Lt. David Ramsey. This one is unusual because Lt. Ramsey is manning an isolated
military spy station on a remote island in the Pacific. I trust you’ll be able
to figure out your own means of transportation? There’s obviously a little
extra that’ll be coming to you given the circumstances.”

“Oh goody! A horny serviceman. Last
year you gave me the astronaut. Glad you remembered you owed me!” I’m even more
pumped when I read the next bit.

“He’s been at the station for six
months. His only other companion is his commander, who is on the naughty list,
so avoid Capt. Marcus Torino.”

He writes more about David, how
selfless he’s been, but how lonely and sad his months have passed, yada yada
yada. Apparently, Capt. Torino is a bear to work for yet Lt. Ramsey has
withstood all his draconian bullying with a smile on his face.

Then he drones on for paragraph after
paragraph about the spy station. Santa is well versed in matters military and
has a soft spot for the troops. The atoll upon which the station sits, is five
miles north to south and two miles east to west. Its highest elevation is fifty
feet at the dead center, a flat space of about a half an acre. The tiny land
mass is covered in coconut and plantain trees. The men grow pineapples and
other crops. A few wild pigs roam the island, left behind to flourish by
Fletcher Christian and his fellow Bounty mutineers centuries ago. Most of their
food and supplies, however, are airdropped.

My Christmas Eve assignment completed,
I have a few hours to prepare for my Christmas day mission. The two officers
will transmit via satellite holiday wishes to their loved ones and receive
similar in return early Christmas morning. I’ll time my arrival for an hour or
so after that.

Transportation isn’t a problem. I need
only visualize my destination and think about the latitude and longitude Santa
has given me, and there I’ll go. Santa pays extra for complicated travel
arrangements. It’s the Succubus/Incubus Union’s dirty little secret how
effortless it actually is. I always feel a little guilty about taking advantage
of him, but I’ve been sworn to secrecy.

I skim my wardrobe, searching for the
perfect wrapping. Beholding a gift, wondering what’s inside and then finally
peeling away the paper should be almost as much fun as enjoying its contents…
almost.

The lacy red bra and matching thong
are my favorites and season-appropriate. I’ll top them with a military uniform
so I can deliver a ho-ho-ho and not look like one, not at first anyway.

“Lt. David Ramsey, prepare for the
petit
mort
this Christmas.” The little death, the French call it and rightfully
so.

With a snap of my fingers, I am at
Station Zebra, at the Zozobra Atoll in the South Pacific, population two plus
one.

“Halt! Identify yourself!”

A male voice from the forest to my
left emanates with menace. I can’t get a lock on his position but I think he’s
in a tree.

I still all movements and raise my
hands into the air. “Lt. Christina Ferris from Alpha base in Tahiti. I’m here
to do an audit.”

“An audit? Of what?” he asks.

“Of the supplies, sir,” I say.

“Who sent you, Lt. Ferris?”

“Sir, might I confirm whom I am
addressing? I cannot share any further intelligence until you identify yourself
as a friendly.” Ha! That sounded pretty good.

The trees rustle and the dull thud and
vibration of a pair of boots striking the earth alert me to his presence at the
three o’clock position. He circles round to stand in front of me.