Bad Boy Christmas: Box Set
Cheyenne writing as Jaymie Holland
Excerpt…Seraphine Chronicles: Forbidden
Bad Boy Christmas
Box Set
Cheyenne McCray
Bad Boy Christmas:
Stranger in My Stocking
,
Fireman Beneath the Mistletoe
,
SEAL Giftwrapped with a Bow
and Visitor Under My Holiday Tree
Copyright © 2014 by Cheyenne McCray
All rights reserved. No part of this e-Book may be reproduced in whole or in part, scanned, photocopied, recorded, distributed in any printed or electronic form, or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or hereafter invented, without express written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Published by Pink Zebra Publishing.
Stranger in My Stocking
is a “Quickie” novella originally published by Ellora’s Cave.
Fireman Beneath the Mistletoe
is a short novella, originally published in “The Bordella”
anthology under the title
Shameless
.
SEAL Giftwrapped with a Bow
is a short novella originally published in the “Mammoth Book of Special Ops Romances” entitled
Dark Force.
Visitor Under My Holiday Tree
is a short bonus story written by Cheyenne McCray with Annie Windsor, and has not been previously published.
Christmas Eve
New York City
A blizzard raged outside the hotel as Alyson Charmaine sipped her glass of chardonnay in the hotel’s lounge. The swirling snow blocked her view of New York City’s Fifth Avenue. She sighed. Christmas Eve and she was trapped in a hotel full of strangers.
Then
he
walked in from out of the storm.
The man dusted snow from his dark hair, shrugged out of his black leather jacket and tucked it under one arm. Snow floated from the jacket onto the red carpet at his feet.
He strode across the hotel lobby with masculine grace, his movements fluid and powerful. A man of confidence. A man in control.
A man surely to die for in bed.
Alyson shivered and her nipples peaked against her silk blouse as she watched him check in at the reservations desk. She sat secluded at a corner table in the lounge—waiting for a member of the staff to inform her that her room was ready—and from her vantage point she had a perfect view of Mr. Wet Dream.
The things she was thinking at that moment would be sure to put her on Santa’s naughty list.
Everyone who knew Alyson thought she was a driven-toward-success corporate lawyer, cool and reserved. And she was—on the surface. Within, she was anything but refined. Inside she was hot and passionate, full of lust, and so darn horny right now she could use an extra-large package of batteries just to keep her vibrator at the ready.
If she told her friends that her fantasy was to make love all night long with a total stranger, they would never believe it. Mmmm, what a Christmas present Mr. Incredible would be. A little bondage perhaps, some whipped cream…
Yeah, I’ll take that stranger in my stocking.
A sigh of sheer lust spilled through Alyson’s lips as she stared at the man whose black hair curled at the collar of his T-shirt. His hair would feel soft between her fingers, a stark contrast to the ruggedness of his features and his body. She sipped her chardonnay, her panties growing damper by the second as she imagined how he would look beneath his black T-shirt and blue jeans. Not an ounce of fat on his tanned, chiseled frame. With those snug jeans on, she could tell his thighs were strong and athletic, and she’d bet her favorite vibrator—which was damned expensive—that his cock was long and thick enough to fill her completely.
Heat flushed through her at the thought of what it might feel like to trace her tongue along his square jaw to his ear, to see the contrast of his olive complexion next to her fair skin. To have his muscled chest against her breasts, abrading her nipples. His powerful hips between her thighs, her nails digging into his back as he fucked her—
The man glanced over his shoulder and looked straight at her.
A slow, sensual smile curved his lips…as if he’d heard every erotic thought in her mind. The warmth Alyson had been feeling before was nothing compared to the fire that licked across her skin when his gaze met hers.
Those eyes. Oh, my God. The most incredible crystalline blue she had ever seen.
Alyson’s mind went completely blank, every sane thought scattered like snow in the blizzard raging outside the hotel. She couldn’t take her eyes from his, couldn’t break the spell that bound her to him.
He turned away, severing the connection.
Her heart beat so fast it pounded in her ears—what the hell just happened? She knew she should stop staring, but she couldn’t. As the man spoke with the reservation clerk, he leaned against the desk and Alyson got a side view of him giving the young woman a charming smile. Alyson’s belly clenched.
Jealous
. She was jealous over a man she didn’t even know.
A man she desired more than anything. If she had the guts she’d go right up to him and proposition him.
Yeah, right.
So much for being a nothing-gets-in-my way kind of woman.
“Ms. Charmaine?” A deep voice sliced into Alyson’s thoughts, and she jerked her attention toward a white-haired man who stood beside her table.
Slowly she relaxed her hand that had been clenched around the stem of her wine glass, and she offered the elderly gentleman a smile. “Yes, Mr….?”
“Claus.” He returned her smile, and his winter blue eyes twinkled. “We apologize for the delay. A room has been prepared especially for you.”
Alyson quirked an eyebrow at the emphasis on “you”.
“Gifts from the hotel staff await you in your room.” Mr. Claus held out his hand, and in it was an old-fashioned key that looked to be made of silver.
What, no electronic key card?
“I’m sure you’ll find everything to your satisfaction,” he added as he slipped the key into her palm. “Merry Christmas, Alyson Charmaine.”
The key felt cold as ice. An intricate snowflake was engraved onto its surface, the design surrounding the number 69.
“Thank—” She broke off when she glanced up to see that Mr. Claus was already gone. Almost as if he had vanished.
Her gaze turned back to where the God-like hunk had been standing at the reservation desk, only to see that he was no longer there.
“Merry Christmas to me, all right.” Alyson sighed—she might as well finish her wine. She picked up her chardonnay and raised it in a mock toast. “Here’s to me and another cold night with my vibrator.”
* * *
Greg Ellington strode out of the elevator and headed to his room, his thoughts still on that sexy blonde he’d seen in the lounge. Damn, but she was beautiful. Too bad she’d been busy talking to the white-haired elderly man by the time he’d gotten the key to his room. He’d thought about offering to buy her a drink—anything to get a moment alone with her. He had the feeling she’d be a hellcat in bed.
And he’d more than enjoy taming her.
He reached the door to his suite and couldn’t help but grin as he thought about those vivid green eyes that had locked with his. The woman was fire, beauty, and sizzling passion all rolled into one delectable package. With the blizzard trapping everyone in the hotel, maybe he’d get a chance to meet her in the lounge or in one of the hotel’s restaurants.
After he let himself into his suite, the warmth of a fire blazing in a brick fireplace flowed over him, along with Christmas music playing in the background. For a moment the thought of a fireplace in a hotel gave him pause, but then he realized it was an artificial one designed to create atmosphere. It would be great if he had someone to share it with. And he could think of that the sexy little someone—he just wished he’d have had the chance to talk to her.
Blew that opportunity, big time.
Greg shook his head, adjusted his cock in his jeans and headed straight to the bathroom. He ignored the bottle of champagne, basket of fruit, and packages scattered across on the parlor table.
Did he ever need a long, hot shower to thaw out. Up until today he’d done a pretty good job of avoiding snow, so he wasn’t used to the cold weather that greeted him on arrival. He’d just flown into La Guardia from a business meeting in Atlanta when the freak blizzard hit New York City. He was supposed to be at La Guardia only long enough to change planes and catch a flight to his villa in Spain where he would have been spending the holidays with his parents.
Well, at least he’d been able to get transportation to a decent hotel—small, but rather luxurious. Although the van that had picked him up had been strange, in the shape of an enclosed sleigh—and the guy driving it had looked a lot like an elf.
When Greg reached the bathroom, he flipped on the light, tossed the silver hotel key onto the vanity, and toed off his shoes. So much for Christmas in Spain. Here he was, his luggage lost somewhere at La Guardia, and he was trapped in an obscure hotel in the middle of a snowstorm on Christmas Eve.
If only he had that fascinating little blonde to fill his stocking and warm his bed.
* * *
A suite? Alyson pushed open the door, her eyes wide with amazement at the opulence of her room. When Mr. Claus said she’d be satisfied, he wasn’t kidding. The only thing missing in this room was a handsome stud to enjoy it with.
One with incredible blue eyes.
Alyson let the door close behind her and tossed her overnight bag and purse onto a red velvet chair. She left the silver key on an end table beside a settee that matched the chair and other furniture in the room. The room smelled of cinnamon, cloves and oranges, a Christmas smell that brought back memories of countless holidays with her large family. When the blizzard hit, she’d been on her way to the Hamptons to spend Christmas with her folks, along with all her brothers, sisters, nieces, and nephews. This would be the first Christmas in ages that she would be without her family.
Well, at least they wouldn’t be able to bug her about finding a guy, getting married and having kids.
Even an artificial fireplace, its fire crackling and popping, was in one corner and projecting welcome heat into the room. To either side of the hearth hung red velvet stockings—one with a G embroidered in gold, the other with an A in silver. Harry Connick, Jr. belted out Christmas songs in the background, his sexy voice bringing to mind the man in the lobby. She bet he had a sexy voice, too.
Alyson tugged off her high-heeled leather boots and stripped off her silk blouse and slacks, down to her matching red lace bra and panties. The thick cream carpet felt luxurious beneath her feet as she padded toward the table to see what goodies the hotel had left. A beautiful gift basket was filled with loaves of pumpkin and nut breads, a box of the best chocolates in the world, an assortment of cheese and crackers, fresh strawberries, apples, oranges and bananas. Oooh, and a fat jar of fudge and a can of whipped cream.
Next to the basket an unlit candelabra graced the table, along with a lighter, a bottle of champagne, and several packages of various sizes wrapped with red or green foil and festive bows. Intrigued, Alyson lifted the cover of the largest one. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped.