Winter Wishes (The Play #1.5)

Winter Wishes

A Holiday Novella of The Play

by Karina Halle

Also by Karina Halle

The Experiment in Terror Series

Darkhouse (EIT #1)

Red Fox (EIT #2)

The Benson (EIT #2.5)

Dead Sky Morning (EIT #3)

Lying Season (EIT #4)

On Demon Wings (EIT #5)

Old Blood (EIT #5.5)

The Dex-Files (EIT #5.7)

Into the Hollow (EIT #6)

And With Madness Comes the Light (EIT #6.5)

Come Alive (EIT #7)

Ashes to Ashes (EIT #8)

Dust to Dust (EIT #9) 

Novels by Karina Halle

The Devil’s Metal (Devils #1)

The Devil’s Reprise (Devils #2)

Sins and Needles (The Artists Trilogy #1)

On Every Street (An Artists Trilogy Novella #0.5)

Shooting Scars (The Artists Trilogy #2)

Bold Tricks (The Artists Trilogy #3)

Donners of the Dead

Dirty Angels

Dirty Deeds

Dirty Promises

Love, in English

Love, in Spanish

Where Sea Meets Sky (from Atria Books)

Racing the Sun (from Atria Books)

The Pact

The Offer

The Play

The Lie

Before the Dawn (from Atria Books)

Bright Midnight (from Atria Books)

First edition published by

Metal Blonde Books December 2015

Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2015 by Karina Halle

Kindle Edition

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

Cover design by Hang Le Designs

Edited by Kara Malinczak

Metal Blonde Books

P.O. Box 845

Point Roberts, WA

98281 USA

Manufactured in the USA

For more information about the series and author visit:

http://authorkarinahalle.com/

 

 

 

PLEASE NOTE: Winter Wishes is NOT a standalone. It takes place after the last chapter of The Play but before the epilogue.

Thank you and happy holidays!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For my Anti-Heroes

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER ONE

Kayla

 

“Morning, love.”

For a moment, I can’t tell if I’m dreaming or not. Lachlan’s thick Scottish brogue has this way of invading my dreams, blurring the line between fantasy and reality. But, hey, how many people can say the man of their dreams is the man of their life? Even when I wake up, I’m acutely aware of how lucky I am to be Lachlan McGregor’s love.

I know. How cheesy. And thank god for that, because if I didn’t have Lachlan by my side, in my bed, wherever I can have him, I would be losing my fucking mind.

It’s been ten days since I threw caution to the wind and took the greatest risk of my life by leaving everything I ever knew behind in San Francisco, and came to Edinburgh on somewhat of a whim, hoping to rekindle the love I never stopped dreaming about. It’s been ten days of hot, passionate sex, long conversations and sloppy dog kisses. It’s also been ten days of second-guessing my decision, biting my nails, and missing Steph, Nicola, and my brothers back at home. Not to mention the grief over my mother, which is ever-present and bone-deep. To say I’ve been torn in a million different directions is an understatement.

But Lachlan has been by my side every step of the way, so no matter which direction my thoughts and heart and soul have been leaning, his very being reminds me that I’m not alone in it. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without him. I wouldn’t be here, that’s for sure.

I must sink briefly back into sleep again until I feel his lips press softly against my forehead.

“You can’t sleep forever,” he murmurs, his breath hot on my skin. “You’ll want to get up before the snow melts.”

Snow?

I open my eyes as he pulls away and peers down at me. His eyes look especially green in the morning light, crinkling at the corners as a hint of a smile tugs at his lips. Damn, those lips of his. He’s so fucking handsome it’s like walking around with a permanent colony of butterflies in my stomach.

“What are you talking about?” I ask softly, my voice still groggy with sleep.

He nods his head at the window just as Lionel jumps up on the bed and starts licking my face. I playfully shove him out of the way and sit up to look outside.

I gasp.

He wasn’t kidding.

A thin layer of snow blankets the park across the street, frosting the grass and sticking to bare branches like icing sugar. “Oh my god,” I say, unable to take my eyes away from the blinding white scene. “Does this normally happen?”

“Sometimes,” Lachlan says. “It used to snow more often, but you know, bloody climate change and all that.”

I look at him with wide, hopeful eyes. “Does this mean we’ll have a white Christmas?”

He shrugs. “Maybe.”

I tilt my head at him. “Oh, come on, you’re supposed to be more excited than that. I’ve never had a white Christmas before. I used to ask Santa for one every year and obviously that never came true.”

“Maybe you were a naughty girl.”

I grin, hitting him on his rock-hard bicep. “You know I was.”

He nods slowly, his eyes trailing over my mouth, neck, chest. Teasing. “Still are,” he says, his voice dropping a register. “Very much so.”

The hairs on my neck stand on end, my skin coming alive from just his gaze. As usual, it takes nothing more than a look from him to turn me on. He doesn’t even have to be around to drive me crazy. I never thought I would become one of those girls that masturbate over their own boyfriend instead of a model or celebrity crush, but there’s a first time for everything.

He leans down, eyes fluttering closed, and kisses the corner of my mouth before slowly sweeping his lips across my jaw. So warm, wet, and soft. I sink back into the pillow, his lips like the sweetest drug. He presses against me and I can feel his hard, stiff length through his jeans, and I instinctively press my hips up to meet his, craving him inside me. I’m wet within seconds and desperate for him to get closer.

“Why are you not always naked?” I practically whimper, sliding my hands underneath his white t-shirt and down the hard, smooth planes of his muscular back. I could touch that back of his for hours.

“Because I’m a stupid, stupid man,” he whispers, sucking my neck into his mouth. The moan it elicits is loud but being noisy is something I refuse to be embarrassed about. Besides, he likes it. What man doesn’t want to hear just what kind of pleasure they’re giving to a woman?

“A stupid man with a great big dick,” I tease him, reaching under and palming his erection.

“Perfect for the girl with the tight little cunt.” His voice gets all low and growly over the last word and he licks down to my collarbone, bathing me in sparks.

Damn. The dirty mouth comes out to play.

I fumble for his jeans, undoing them as quickly as I can, while he pulls his shirt over his head. God, the sight of him above me, every hard-earned, rippled muscle, every beautiful, telling tattoo—it just never gets old.

He reaches back to yank off his jeans when Lionel springs forward, grabbing the hem with his teeth and pulling playfully.

“Glad you’re trying to help, mate,” Lachlan says to Lionel, laughing as the pit bull tugs them off. Lachlan shoots me an apologetic look before getting off the bed. “Don’t worry, he’s on his way out.”

I know it’s super silly, but I just can’t fuck when there are dogs in the room. Lachlan assures me they don’t know the difference, but I
know
they know. It’s weird. I can be an exhibitionist in some ways but not in that one.

Lachlan pulls off the rest of his jeans and strides across the room, shooing Lionel out. He’s commando as he often is and I have the world’s best view of the world’s best ass. All those years of rugby and now boxing have firmed that behind into a sculpted peach that I just want to sink my teeth and nails into. That, plus those broad shoulders and the sinewy muscles of his back, the dimples at his waist, his thick, impossibly strong quads—he’s man overload. Sometimes I wish I was a guy just so I could fuck him from behind because what a hell of a view that would be.

He closes the door on Lionel then turns around, another perfect sight. He’s holding his gorgeous dick in his hand and my eyes are torn between indulging in the beautiful, wanting part of his lips and his thick cock on display.

“You ready for me?” he asks, and the look on his face is practically smoldering.

Why does he even ask?

I smile, ever the coquette, then pull my camisole over my head. Last night we’d had sex before we fell asleep and I hadn’t even bothered to put underwear back on, which was coming in handy right now.

Lachlan walks over and stops right beside the bed, his eyes burning down at me.

“Want to play this morning?” he asks gruffly, though his lips are quirking up into a wicked smile.

“Play?” I ask, mildly confused. “Or fuck?”

He reaches down and pulls open the bedside table drawer. “Both.” He takes out the silky sleep mask that I got from the airplane ride over here. “Put this on.”

I take it from him. Hmmm. Okay. So
this
is playing.

I slip it over my head, pulling it down over my eyes until the world goes almost black, only a faint glow of grey coming through from underneath the edge.

“Lie back,” he tells me, and I shiver from the sound of his voice, so throaty, husky, and extra commanding in the dark.

I lie back and feel his hand slip under my head, pulling the pillow down so I’m more comfortable. Then I feel him step away from me, and hear the sound of him rummaging. The snap of a container opening.

“What are you doing?” I ask him, my pulse starting to dance.

“Something I’ve fantasized about,” he says.

Fantasies? Yes, please.

“Let’s have it,” I tell him.

“Just relax. Don’t move. Don’t talk. I’m going to do some pretty messy things to you.”

Oh, sweet Jesus.

“Starting with these fantastic tits of yours,” he says, nearly growling. I hear his hands slap together and then he climbs on top of me, his strong, warm legs on either side of my waist.

I think I have an idea where this is going.

I suck in my breath, my body tensed and waiting for his next move.

His hands slide slickly down the middle of my chest and outward across each breast. The faint smell of mint sneaks in and I know he’s rubbed me over with lube. Normally I don’t need the stuff, but, well, you can’t really take it up the ass without it.

Though at the moment, it’s my tits that are getting all oiled up. He spreads it on as if he’s rubbing it into my skin, giving me a massage, only it’s not relaxing in the slightest. The slick press of his fingers ignite my nerves, the heat building with each stroke. His tongue teases at one of my nipples, already stiff and begging for it.

My moan gets caught in my throat and I writhe under him, reaching for the back of his neck to pull him closer.

“I said don’t move,” he commands, and I immediately drop my hand down to my side. Sheesh. Bossy.

He takes my nipple in his teeth and tugs. It’s just the slightest bit painful, but more than that, it causes a shower of electricity to hum out from my limbs.

“Fuck,” I say breathlessly.

He pauses. “I said don’t talk. I’ll stop what I’m doing right now if you do.”

I can’t tell he means business but being quiet has never been my strong suit. I press my lips together in exaggeration until I feel his mouth back on my nipples again, licking and sucking while I swell between my legs, so very desperate, so very unable to do anything about it.

This is torture. Beautiful, sweet torture.

With the mask on, with my nerves fighting against the silence, against my body’s natural urge to move, to touch him, to writhe and beg, my world is burning, on fire, and I’ll just be ashes in the end.

His head goes lower, licking down the center of my stomach until he gets between my legs. I know he’s enjoying the torture, murmuring against me as he kisses down the V of my hipbones, then as he slides his long, wet tongue where my legs and pelvis meet. The skin there is so sensitive I nearly cry out as he gently laps at it, teasing up the sides, coming close to my clit and then backing away.

“Please,” I can’t help but moan. Suddenly he smacks the side of my thigh. Hard.

“This is your last warning,” he says. God, his brogue, his gravely voice, he’s beyond hot when he’s domineering. He would be a pretty good Dom because he’s so good at the pain and torture. Only it’s not what he does to me but what he doesn’t do. He has me wanting him so badly I can barely breathe.

Finally his tongue snakes along my clit and I suck in a sharp breath, trying to compose myself. I’m seconds from coming and he knows this. He works me fast, his tongue flicking rapidly and so hard as I swell beneath him, the pressure in my core building and building in hot hot heat.

Then he withdraws and I’m nearly left gasping for him.

The fucking tease.

“Easy now,” he says gruffly. “You’re doing so good love. I may just reward you.”

He straddles me with his heavy thighs and I feel himself position the hard tip of his dick to me. With slow ease he pushes himself inside as I widen around him, my body needing him, craving him. In seconds he’s in to the hilt, he’s a part of me and I don’t think I’ve ever felt so beautifully stretched.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groans as he pulls himself out and thrusts in again, his rigid length dragging along all the right spots. “So good. So beautiful. You drive me mad, you know. All the time. All the fucking time.”

I gasp as he drives in harder and then freezes up, thinking he may quit on me as punishment, but he lets it slide. He starts pumping into me faster, deeper, and it takes all of my resolve not to reach up for his firm ass and hold him inside me.

I can feel the sweat drip from his body onto mine and I’m surprised I’m not sizzling. He slips his hand down, making a fist over the base of his cock as it slides into me, and in his breathless, low voice, tells me how perfect I am, how much he loves me, how much he loves fucking me, how tight and sweet and wet I am. My mind is filled with his dirty words, my heart filled with his love and my cunt filled with every inch of his thick, hard-as-steel cock.

His fingers then slide over my clit, in rhythm with his merciless thrusts.

One.

Two.

The band of fire inside me crackles.

Snaps.

All bets are off.

I come, moaning loudly, calling out his name as starbursts form beneath the mask and my body explodes in a hot wash of nerves and champagne. I’m writhing, bucking, floating into pure bliss. Away, away, away.

Fuck.

This man.

“Not over yet love,” he says, pulling out of me as I still pulse around him.

He slowly inches forward over me, still straddling as he works his way up, and I can feel his balls brush over the soft expanse of my abdomen until they stop just below my chest.

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