Stocking Stuffer: Christmas for Eve Read online

  Stocking Stuffer: Christmas for Eve

  Michele Bardsley

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright ©2006 Michele Bardsley

  No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file copying or sharing, and email, without prior written permission from Changeling Press LLC. Willful violation of this policy will result in suspension of account privileges and will lead to prosecution.

  WARNING: Illegal files may contain viruses.

  ISBN (10) 1-59596-559-9

  ISBN (13) 978-1-59596-559-2

  Formats Available:

  HTML, Adobe PDF,

  MobiPocket, Microsoft Reader

  Publisher:

  Changeling Press LLC

  PO Box 1046

  Martinsburg, WV 25402-1046

  www.ChangelingPress.com

  Editor: Sheri Ross Fogarty

  Cover Artist: Reneé George and Bryan Keller

  This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

  Christmas for Eve

  Take Me Away is a waste of cheap paper. It’s so damned bad I wouldn’t line a hamster cage with its pages. Dearest readers, if Madra Milton’s latest work is in your TBR pile, then use it for kindling -- a nice fire is about the only pleasure you’ll get out of it.

  Eve Moore finished reading the latest post on The Blog Bitch and sighed. Leaning over the shoulder of her friend Val Carter -- who was the bitch in question -- she tapped the screen. “Is it just me or do you like being mean?”

  “Duh. Mean is fun. Besides, I pay good money for these novels. If they disappoint me, I have a right to say so.” Val logged off and shut down her laptop.

  “Oh, please. You’re a used bookstore slut and an almost permanent fixture at the library,” said Eve. “When’s the last time you bought a new book?”

  “Yesterday.” Val pushed away from the tiny desk and stood up. She grinned. “Adora LaFortune’s Midnight Mask.”

  “You didn’t! Val… no.”

  “Oh, yes. I’m saving it for my Holiday Hell Reads. Merry fucking Christmas, baby.”

  Eve grimaced. Lately, Val had gotten more delight out of trashing than out of reading romance novels. Not even her favorite authors were immune from her vitriol.

  “It seems ironic that a woman named Valentine can’t find anything nice to say about love, romance, intimacy or the books that celebrate those emotions.”

  Val shrugged. “Just because I’m named Valentine doesn’t mean I have to buy in to the whole concept of soul mates and happily-ever-afters.” She looked at Eve. “Just because you’re dating Adora doesn’t make her immune from The Blog Bitch. How is ol’ Steven Jones, anyway?”

  Eve was relieved at her friend’s change of tone. She was tired of arguing with her about books and blogs. “Almost finished with his next book. He makes more money writing erotic romances as Adora, but his first love is the horror genre.”

  “Good thing I don’t review horror books. C’mon. Let’s get some wine.”

  Eve followed Val from the bedroom into the apartment’s small kitchen. Val retrieved the bottle of blackberry merlot from the fridge.

  “I don’t know how the man researches his horror novels,” said Eve, as she watched Val pour the wine, “but what we do for the erotica is fun.”

  “Hmm. He doesn’t come out during the day, he doesn’t like junk food, he’s a wine snob, and the dude needs a tan.” Val grinned. “Obviously, he’s a vampire.”

  “For a man who’s undead he sure doesn’t mind garlic,” said Eve. “Besides, he collects crosses. You should see his house. Seems like every wall has some sort of cross or crucifix on it.”

  “Are you sure there’s not anything wrong with him? You’ve reached the three-month mark, which is a record for you.” Val gave her a glass of blackberry merlot then leaned against the counter. “You’re usually bored or pissed off with a guy within thirty days.”

  “I like Steven. I feel like I’ve known him forever.” She sipped the wine then looked beseechingly at her friend. “Do you have to blog about Midnight Mask?”

  “Oh, please! You didn’t protest this much when I blogged about Swelter, which was your favorite Adora book of all time. Of course, that was before you met the almighty book god and started boinking him.”

  Startled at Val’s vehemence, Eve frowned. “That’s not fair.”

  “You used to think The Blog Bitch was funny as hell until you got mixed up with Steven. Now, all I hear about is how much blog snark hurts the feelings of authors and how there’s this huge double standard. So what if authors can’t snark back without looking like assholes? Who cares?”

  “You should care. And so should other readers.” She sighed. “The blog was your therapy. The divorce was hard on you and you needed the escape. But it’s been a year, Val. Don’t you think you should try to have a life?”

  “I have a life. It’s called The Blog Bitch.” She chugged down the rest of the merlot and put the empty glass on the counter. Then she glared at Eve. “At least my fans love me.”

  “Cold comfort.” Eve sucked in a calming breath. Her friendship with Val had been faltering and she didn’t know why. “Honey, all you do is work then come home to read and to blog. It’s pathetic.”

  Val stood stiffly, her fists clenched, her eyes flashing with anger. “Stop judging the way I live my life. Hell, you were just like me before you met Steven. Not everyone gets the hunky, smart, rich guy.”

  Hurt, Eve turned around and poured the rest of her wine into the sink. She rinsed the glass, then turned off the water and faced her friend. She didn’t want to think that her friendship with Val was disintegrating completely, but it sure as hell felt that way. “Will you be home tomorrow?”

  “It’s Christmas Eve,” said Val with a sigh. “Where else would I be?”

  Eve’s heart went out to her friend. Val was an only child. Her parents had died years ago in a car accident. She had no one with whom to celebrate the holidays. It was one of the things that had drawn them together. Eve had no siblings either, and her parents had died when she was ten. She’d been raised by a grandmother who had passed away two summers ago. “Are you sure you don’t want to come to Steven’s house? We’ll have plenty of food and alcohol. He bought every Christmas movie ever made. It’ll be fun.”

  “Three’s a crowd.” Val flashed a tired smile. “But thanks.”

  * * *

  By the time Eve arrived at Steven’s house, she felt anxious and tired. Fighting with Val put her in a bad mood, and Steven didn’t deserve her rancor. Hell, he didn’t deserve Val’s rancor. He was the kindest man she’d ever known. He could be a tender lover, or a demanding one. Their sex life was off the charts. If The Blog Bitch was Val’s crack, then Steven was Eve’s. Oh yeah. He was one sweet addiction.

  She used her key to open the front door. Tossing her purse onto the hall table, she trudged upstairs to Steven’s office. He wasn’t behind his messy desk typing furiously, so she went across the hall to his bedroom.

  “Hello, darling,” said Steven. He lay on the bed wearing a ragged pair of jeans and nothing else. He held a page in one hand and a blue pencil in the other. A pile of papers covered his lap.

  “Are those the copy edits for Swelter, Too?” she asked. Her mood lifted instantly. As the author’s girlfriend, she’d gotten to read the sequel to Adora’s mo
st popular erotic romance. She loved Swelter, but the sequel, which continued the story of the three lovers, Derina, Robert and Warick, was hotter and even better than the first one. She couldn’t wait to hold the published book in her hands.

  “Yes, it’s Swelter, Too… the novel I wrote for you, my biggest fan.”

  “Funny how you wrote it six months before you met me.” She crawled onto the bed and nuzzled his shoulder. “How was your day?”

  “Better than yours, I suspect.”

  “Why?”

  “Didn’t you say you were going to visit Val?”

  “Yeah.” She sighed. “The Blog Bitch has taken over her life. For someone who likes to dole out criticism, she sure can’t take any.”

  “That’s why I let my publicist cull through reviews. If I spent all my time responding to the poor opinions of bloggers and reviewers, I would never have the time to write another book.” Steven put down the page and the pencil, moved the manuscript onto the nightstand, and then drew her into his embrace.

  “She bought Midnight Mask,” said Eve. “Even if she enjoys it, I don’t think she’ll say anything nice. She used to love to read romance novels. Now, she takes pleasure in ripping ’em apart.”

  “We all have our pleasures, darling.”

  Eve sat up and looked at him. His eyes were gold-green -- tiger eyes. He was gorgeous. Nearly six feet tall, he was lean and muscled. He had longish tawny hair and a face that belonged in GQ. He smiled as he listened to her rant, not the least bit troubled by Val’s shitty behavior.

  “The last time we argued about her blog, Val told me that authors owed readers. She said that bloggers like her hold the purse strings and authors better remember who’s paying their royalties. Doesn’t that piss you off?”

  “Not really.” Steven’s fingers sifted through her hair. “I love the new style. Did you add red highlights?

  “Don’t change the subject!” Eve playfully slapped his chest. He caught her hand and pressed it flat against his pectoral. “Do you know that after one author responded to her mean-assed review, she went off on this horrible rant that ended with, ‘Write, you bitches. Write and shut the fuck up’.”

  “Hmmm. Sounds like good advice.” He cradled her face and nibbled on her bottom lip. “Don’t worry about it, Eve. Val and others like her will reap cosmic consequences. No one escapes punishment for bad deeds.”

  “But --”

  “Hush, woman.” He pressed her onto the bed and slowly unbuttoned her blouse. “You’re too tense. Let me help you relax.”

  Steven’s long fingers stroked the skin revealed by the vee of her silk shirt. Eve nearly purred when his hand dipped inside her bra to cup her breast. He pinched her nipple, chuckling at her murmured request to do it again.

  He undid each button, kissing each sliver of revealed skin until the blouse fell away. He pressed his face against her belly and whispered, “I’ve missed you.”

  “It’s been a whole day. And it was a very boring day where I answered phones and took messages and looked cute behind a really tall desk.”

  He laughed, his breath ghosting across her navel. “You don’t need to work. You have me.”

  Hmm. But for how long? Eve felt the familiar dance of butterflies in her belly as Steven helped her wiggle off the skirt. She kept her legs waxed and tan -- suffering any beauty torture necessary to avoid wearing panty hose. He plucked at her panties and she wiggled those off, too. Next, he made short work of her bra and blouse.

  Side-by-side, wrapped in the warmth created by their closeness, they looked at each other. Steven always made her shiver and tremble, sigh and moan. He made her want things she’d never wanted… like permanency. Marriage, children, a house with a garden -- these dreams filled her head at all hours these days. What would her lover do or say if she admitted she had these feelings for him? That she might… damn, damn, damn… that she might love him?

  Steven’s fingers drifted across her arm, down her side, to her hip. “Your skin is so soft.” He stroked her buttock, cupping it and kneading it. Then his hand moved leisurely to her thigh. “You smell good, too.”

  “Less talk, more sex,” she said, stretching against him.

  He grinned, shucking his jeans and boxers before sliding on top of her. His hardening cock nestled against her pussy. He kissed her shoulder, nipping it before tasting her collarbone. Then he moved up her neck, and peppered kisses along her jaw. His eyes were glazed with desire, his breath harsh against her lips.

  “I’ve never wanted any man like I want you,” she said, as her heart pounded and heat weaved from breasts to belly to pussy.

  “You mean that, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” Her hands stroked the firm muscles of his back then cupped his fine ass. “I was thinking earlier about how addicted I am to you.”

  Steven stretched her arms above her head. She rubbed her nipples against his lightly furred chest, enjoying the rough tingles that carried frantic heat all the way to her pussy. He’s so luscious. She loved the feel of his hard body against hers and reveled in his lovemaking. He always made her feel special as he discovered what turned her on. He had a helluva memory too, always knew where to touch and where to tease.

  He knelt and leaned forward, taking the silk strands draping the elaborate metal headboard and wrapping them around her wrists. When he finished binding her, she tested the silk. Her arms had some movement, and she knew Steven would release her if asked, but she still felt bound and vulnerable. Her gaze found his and he smiled. Lowering himself onto her body until his mouth hovered above hers, he whispered, “Let me pleasure you.”

  He kissed her, a slow melding of the lips that made her breath hitch and her heart pound. His tongue slipped into her mouth and danced with hers. He tasted like mints and lust. She felt his cock jerk against her clit and knew he wanted to fuck her right now. And she too, wanted to connect with him in the most primal way.

  Her breasts ached for his mouth, and her pussy was wet with need. Then Steven cupped her breasts, and she sighed with relieved desire. He pinched her nipples. Pleasure and pain intertwined, zipping like lightning through her. Her arms felt tingly, but there was something sexy about being unable to touch him, about having her body vulnerable to his whims.

  When his mouth surrounded her nipple and his tongue flicked the peak, she cried out. Pleasure jolted through her, spearing her at the core. He laved her nipple, suckling one while his hand tormented the other. Then he switched his mouth and hand and she went up in flames. She pushed her pussy against his cock, wrapping her legs around his buttocks as she rubbed her clit against his hardness.

  He crawled down her, kissing and licking his way to her pubic bone. Her clit felt swollen, tingling with the need to be touched, to be sucked. But his tongue skittered oh-so-slowly to her thigh. Pushing apart her legs, he kissed her pussy lips, his tongue parting the folds to taste her. Oh, finally. Finally!

  Joy pierced her, trembling, raw tendrils that demanded more from this man who showed her such tenderness. She tugged at the silk holding her hostage and bucked her hips, wanting his mouth fully on her. His tongue flicked her clit, teasing the hard nub, before sliding down and licking her some more.

  “Please, taste me,” she begged. “I need your mouth on my cunt.”

  His tongue parted her slit, licked the juice pearling there, then -- yeah, baby -- his mouth settled on her clit and sucked it, hard. The orgasm swelled, waves of pleasure threatening, but he kept her from the edge.

  Instead, he rose above her, pushing her legs up and forward until her heels rested on his shoulders. She panted and squirmed, pulling on the bonds around her wrists. Steven lifted her hips and slid his thick, hard cock into her pussy. Oh. My. God. His cock felt enormous when it impaled her, stretching her and filling her.

  His tiger eyes captured hers. She saw lust in that golden gaze, and lurking there, too, was a more tender emotion. Before she could hope to name it, Steven closed his eyes, groaning. His hands grew sweaty on her thighs as h
e held onto her legs and pumped into her again and again. The rocking of their bodies singed her to the core. Steven’s eyes flickered open; his gaze was relentless. Demanding. Desperate. She felt as ravaged by his stare as she did by his body.

  “Say you love me.”

  “What?” Even though Eve had considered the possibility that she was in love with him, she hadn’t been ready to voice the emotion. Steven had shown her affection, showered her with gifts, and never asked for a single thing in return. But was that love? Or just kindness?

  “Please, Eve.” Steven’s cock pistoned inside her. He angled up, bumping her g-spot, and even though her emotions were roiling, her body was full-steam ahead on the pleasure train. “I know that you love me.”

  “Yes,” she admitted softly.

  “Good.” His thumb rubbed her clit and he fucked her harder, his cock ramming into her pussy. It was as if he were rewarding her for her answer. But though the moment was odd and his need to know strange… the truth was still the truth. She loved Steven, timing be damned.

  Straining against the silk bonds, Eve closed her eyes and let the sensations wash over her. She matched his movements as her heart pounded and sweat slicked her skin. As the bliss built into a pyre of pleasure, her mind reeled with the implication of being loved by someone, of loving someone.

  “Steven!” The orgasm burst as wave after wave of pleasure rolled over her. Her cries echoed with his as he emptied his seed into her sated pussy.

  Later, after Steven slipped out of the bed to go write, Eve realized that while he had coaxed an admission of love from her, he hadn’t given one in return.

  * * *

  On Christmas Eve morning, Eve sat at the dining room table and accepted a mug of coffee from Milton, the ever-efficient butler of the manse. Though Steven rarely -- okay, never -- joined her for breakfast, this was the first time she felt weirded out by it. As she nibbled on her toast, that thought gave her pause. Why hadn’t she considered it strange that Steven didn’t wake with her and eat with her? Stupid Val.