White Hot Holidays 8: Holiday Bound Read online

  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  Holiday Bound

  ISBN # 1-4199-0450-7

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  Holiday Bound Copyright© 2005 Jaci Burton

  Edited by Briana St. James

  Cover design by Syneca. Photography by Dennis Roliff.

  Electronic book Publication: December 2005

  This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  Warning:

  The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers. Holiday Bound has been rated E–rotic by a minimum of three independent reviewers.

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™ reading entertainment: S (S-ensuous), E (E-rotic), and X (X-treme).

  S-ensuous love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to the imagination.

  E-rotic love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the imagination, and are high in volume per the overall word count. In addition, some E-rated titles might contain fantasy material that some readers find objectionable, such as bondage, submission, same sex encounters, forced seductions, and so forth. E-rated titles are the most graphic titles we carry; it is common, for instance, for an author to use words such as “fucking”, “cock”, “pussy”, and such within their work of literature.

  X-treme titles differ from E-rated titles only in plot premise and storyline execution. Unlike E-rated titles, stories designated with the letter X tend to contain controversial subject matter not for the faint of heart.

  HOLIDAY BOUND

  Jaci Burton

  Dedication

  For Shan and Mel— Y’all rock at blurbage, babes. Thanks!

  And for Charlie, as always, my one true love.

  Chapter One

  Maria Perez glanced at the note addressed to Santa Claus and knew right away who’d pulled a practical joke on her.

  Joan. She shook her head and searched the office. Figured the blonde tart would be in hiding. No doubt in the ladies’ room laughing her ass off.

  Okay, Joan. It’s a week before Christmas and I’m loaded with holiday spirit. I’ll play along. Otherwise I’d be kicking your butt right now.

  She moved the files on her desk screaming for her attention. She so didn’t have time for this. Five minutes was all she’d take for this ridiculous frivolity. The note was handwritten and Joan hadn’t even bothered to try and hide her telltale scrawl.

  Dear Santa—

  My Christmas wish isn’t for myself this year. It’s for my best friend, Maria Perez. You see, Maria has a very special wish. She wants a tall, dark, handsome man to do wicked things to her. Things like handcuffing her, tying her up, spanking her and fulfilling every dark, delicious sexual fantasy she harbors in her naughty little mind.

  Please grant my wish, Santa, because my beautiful friend Maria is too stupid to go for it on her own. In fact, why don’t you give her that hot Detective Colin Maguire she’s been lusting after the past two years? You know who I’m talking about? The one who hangs out at her desk every time he stops in our office to retrieve a file or talk about a case? The one who looks at Maria as if he’d like to lick her all over like a candy cane? You see, Santa, everyone knows Colin has the hots for Maria and Maria wants Colin, but she won’t give him the time of day and Colin won’t make the first move, even though this little elf would wager Colin has just what it takes to fulfill Maria’s every perverted little wish.

  So what do you say, Santa? Shouldn’t this be the year someone makes Maria’s Christmas wishes come true?

  Your loyal elf,

  Joan

  “What’s got you so hot and bothered?”

  Maria dropped the letter like it was on fire. The subject of the letter, as well as her every fantasy, leaned against her desk, looking down at her with his steely gray eyes and that sexy half-smile that never failed to wet her panties.

  Colin Maguire. Good God, timing was everything, wasn’t it? She shoved the letter into the stack of client files, mentally damning Joan for all eternity. Her friend was going to pay for this. “Nothing. Just a note that got me pretty heated.”

  Colin shook his head and shifted, perching on the edge of her desk. God he smelled good. Crisp, like he had just showered. Whatever soap he used should be outlawed because she wanted to bury her nose in his neck. Or maybe his crotch. Hell, anywhere in his general vicinity would be good.

  “You’ve got to stop taking every case personally, Maria. This job will eat you alive otherwise.”

  Switching her thoughts to something less libidinous, she said, “Someone has to take it personally, Colin. And if I don’t care about these women, then who will? The City of Los Angeles doesn’t care enough to see that these women’s husbands and boyfriends don’t beat them half to death. Nine times out of ten the guy is back on the street an hour after you arrest him. And then right back in the home beating the hell out of the woman who called the cops on them. Or worse.”

  Colin winced. “I know, babe. I’m doing the best I can.”

  Maria blew out a sigh of frustration. “I’m not blaming you. Your hands are tied just like mine.” She and Colin had this conversation regularly. Her job as a counselor for Domestic Violence Services and his as a detective thrust them together a lot. It also meant their cases weren’t often successful ones with happy endings.

  Which meant she needed to focus on her job and less on her nonexistent sex life. Damn that Joan, anyway. Maria had no business thinking about that kind of sex. Kinky, perverted, the kind of sex the women she counseled sometimes endured. What the hell was wrong with her, anyway? She was one sick puppy.

  “Earth to Maria. Are you in there?”

  “Huh?” Her face flamed as she realized Colin continued to stare at her. “I’m so sorry. My mind is elsewhere today.” Like in the gutter.

  “I need the Delgado file. DA said there’s talk of a plea bargain in return for counseling.”

  “Great. If he agrees to counseling we’re a step ahead of most of the assholes we deal with. Sylvia will breathe a sigh of relief when I tell her. Carl can be one mean son of a bitch when he’s drinking, but he’s an angel when he’s sober.”

  “He’s a mean son of a bitch who doesn’t want to do prison time. He likes to dish it out, but he’s scared as hell at the thought of taking it.”

  “One of those,” she said, rolling her eyes. She looked through the stack on her desk and pulled Sylvia’s file, handing it to him.

  He slipped it under his arm and nodded. “I’ll have it back to you tomorrow.”

  “No problem. I was just going to file it in pending anyway. Paperwork’s up to date.”

  “Great. I’ll see you then.”

  As usual, she couldn’t help but watch him walk away. The people who made those blue jeans ought to have Colin as their official spokesman. No man could do a pair of worn jeans justice like Colin Maguire. Tall, lean, with well-muscled thighs and a firm ass she’d sacrifice her pension to hold just once. Preferably while he was buried deep inside her pussy, pumping away and making her come until she screamed.

  God, she was so pathetic.

  “If you’re not careful, you’ll self-combust on the spot. And I don’t know where the broom is to sweep up the ashes.”

  “I hate you, Joan.” As much as she adored her best friend, sometimes Maria
wished she hadn’t confided so many of her secret desires to Joan, especially the ones about Colin.

  “No you don’t. You love me. Who else knows all your deep, dark perverted secrets and loves you anyway?”

  She glared at Joan, shaking her head at the willowy blonde. Her short, spiky hair stood on end, reminding Maria of someone who’d had a severe fright. Maria and Joan were as incongruent as two people could be, Joan’s style more that of a free-spirited punk rocker and Maria’s as traditional as they came. Which was why Joan always tried to push Maria outside her comfort zone.

  But some things should remain fantasy only. Like Colin. And her sexual desires.

  “Like my note?”

  “You are one sick puppy. And Santa is not going to grant your wish this year.”

  Joan rolled her eyes. “Then Santa is a dickhead. Because if anyone needs to get laid in a big way, it’s you, honey.”

  Maria shuffled the files, assigning them according to action items. “Tell you what,” she said, watching Joan slide into the chair at the desk across from hers. “You get laid twice on Christmas, that way you can have one for me.”

  “We’re not talking about me. Besides, when was the last time you had sex, Maria?”

  It was a good thing the office was mostly deserted, otherwise her cheeks would be flaming red. But after working with Joan for the past four years, Maria had long ago given up embarrassment. Joan was a pushy prodding busybody, and her closest friend.

  “Sex is overrated,” Maria sniffed.

  “Only if you’re doing it wrong,” Joan countered. “So, it’s been that long, huh?”

  “Two years.”

  “For Santa’s sake, Maria. Go pick up a stud buddy and engage in some sport fucking. Any random guy with a cock will do.”

  “Not interested, thank you.” That was her problem. She didn’t just want anyone. And with her tastes, she couldn’t choose a random guy. God only knows what she’d end up with. Either unfulfilled or in deep trouble. She grabbed her planner and made up her schedule for tomorrow. Thank God for the holidays. Time to catch up on paperwork. Of course before long all hell would break loose and she’d have more clients than she could deal with. Something about Christmas brought out the animal in these bastards.

  “Honey, you’re gorgeous, so it can’t be because guys aren’t hitting on you. You have a Botticelli body. And your mouth. God, do you know much women pay plastic surgeons to get full lips like that? They just scream Hey, baby, I want to suck your dick. Hell, if I was a guy I’d be all over you like jelly on peanut butter.”

  Maria snorted. She’d really like to be appalled at Joan, but she just couldn’t be. Her friend made her laugh every day, and in their business, that was all too rare. “I had no idea you cared,” she said, batting her eyelashes at Joan.

  “Sorry, babe. I like cock and don’t swing that way. But if I did, you’d be my girl.”

  “Thanks. I think.” With a smile and a shake of her head, she dragged out the files she’d have to deal with tomorrow, hoping Joan would do the same and forget all about Christmas, Santa and perverted wishes best left to her private bedroom fantasies.

  * * * * *

  Colin plopped the files down on his coffee table and headed into the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge. One baloney sandwich, pickle and pile of potato chips later, he was settled on the sofa, beer in hand, plate on the sofa and files in his lap. He flipped on the television to the Monday night football game and opened the first file, trying to catch up on paperwork and hoping to unwind after another brutal day.

  Sometimes he wondered why the hell he agreed to the domestic unit. Of all places. Then again, with four younger sisters, it didn’t surprise him in the least. Nothing burned his ass more than a man who beat up and assaulted someone smaller and defenseless. His sisters used to hate him when they were in high school and dating, claiming he browbeat and threatened every boy who’d gotten within a hundred yards of them.

  He grinned at the memories. Ah, the good old days. Now he couldn’t beat the shit out of perps for doing what they did. Most times their slick-ass attorneys got them off with a slap on the wrist and community service. Nine times out of ten he’d end up arresting them again, only the next time the pain they inflicted would be worse. Or, God forbid, they’d end up killing the victim.

  Bastards. Justice wasn’t just blind. Sometimes she was downright stupid.

  Three files, two beers and an empty plate later, he was down to his last file. The Delgado case he’d retrieved from Maria. He searched her notes on the case, scanning through her evaluation of Sylvia’s injuries and statement. Okay, not too bad. Carl Delgado was an asshole, but redeemable at least, which was more than he could say for most of the perps he dealt with. If Maria agreed, he’d give the go-ahead to the DA to do the deal for counseling in lieu of jail time.

  Colin was just about to close the file when a slip of paper slid onto the floor. He reached down and placed the paper on top of the file, then noticed it was handwritten and addressed to Santa. That was odd and seemed out of place. He scanned the first couple lines, then leaned back, pushing the contents of the Delgado file aside to read the entire letter.

  Holy shit! Holy fucking shit and a Christmas tree! He read the letter again. And again. After about five times, he had every word memorized.

  Maria hadn’t written this letter, because he knew her handwriting well. But he also recognized Joan Winston’s chicken scratch. A joke, maybe? Knowing Joan, yes, but was this what Maria had been reading and then hurriedly tried to hide, red-faced, when he’d stepped up to her desk today?

  How much of this was true? Did Maria really have fantasies about him? Did she want to be cuffed and spanked? Did she have wicked, naughty fantasies about being bound and disciplined?

  His dick twitched and began to harden, straining against his zipper as his mind went into full-fledged graphic visuals of Maria leaning over her desk, skirt raised over her hips while he pulled down her panties and bared her sweet ass for his inspection.

  Fuck, that was hot! He’d step back so he could view her pussy lips, hoping she was completely bare so he could see them glistening in the harsh light of her office. No, not glistening. Really fucking wet. Dripping with her juices and ready for his cock to slide between them.

  His balls tightened and he cupped them through his jeans, squeezing until he groaned. Sliding the beer onto the coffee table, he unzipped his jeans, pushing them down over his hips, then spread his legs and grasped his shaft, pumping it slowly while he closed his eyes and thought about Maria bent over her desk, waiting patiently for him.

  Christ, he’d never gotten so hot so fast before, but the visual of Maria had entered his mind and wouldn’t go away. He could even smell her, that sweet scent of jasmine that seemed to enter his senses whenever she was around. That’s the first thing he’d do after he looked at her. He’d move close up behind her and inhale her fragrance, coupled with the scent of her arousal. As wet as she’d be, he’d be able to smell the sweet musk of her pussy. He’d squat down and breathe her in, then swipe his tongue over her sex, bury his face in her pussy and make her shudder and scream, take her to the very edge but refuse to let her come.

  Not yet, anyway. Not until he was buried balls-deep inside her hot cunt. His shaft lurched against his hand, clearly eager to do just that. Heat emanated from his cock, making his hand sweat, providing lubrication to slide his hand up and down over the length. He lingered at the tip, using his thumb to spread the pearly essence gathered there over the dark purple head. He squeezed the soft tip, just like her pussy would when he pushed past her lips, making her beg for him to fuck her.

  But he’d wait, tormenting them both with anticipation. He’d make her tell him exactly what she wanted him to do to her, make her fuck back against him and slide her pussy over his dick until she took him all inside. He was thick, so it wouldn’t be easy. She’d cry out as she took every inch, and he’d swat her ass cheeks to encourage her to move. She’d shudder and w
himper, driving his arousal even higher because he’d know how much she wanted it.

  As much as he did. As much as he’d been wanting it for too damn long. For years he’d dreamed of what it would be like to be buried inside Maria, to feel her slick, wet heat surrounding him, squeezing him, just like his hand gripped his cock right now. He felt the pulse in his balls as they tightened, readying for release, but he held back, thinking he’d pull out of Maria and force her to turn around and get down on her knees. He’d command her to suck him, taste her own cream on his cock, watching her full lips surround the head, stretching her mouth wide as she accepted him, taking every inch of him deeper and deeper until he was buried to the back of her throat. Then he’d hold her head and pump his cock between her lips, watching the head appear and disappear as her tongue swirled around the tip, taking him closer and closer to the edge.

  He moved his hand faster now, sweat pouring into his eyes, his breathing harsh and rapid. He’d pull her back to a standing position and force her over her desk again, positioning himself behind her and driving hard and deep. She’d scream, the sound oh-so sweet mingled with the wet, sucking sounds of her pussy as it latched onto his cock and constricted, urging him to give her his cum.

  He couldn’t hold back. With a long groan he let his orgasm burst, showering his hand and stomach with thick ropes of cum. He panted as he jerked his shaft until there was nothing left but a few pearly drops lingering on the tip. He lay there for a few minutes, breathing heavily and enjoying the remnants of one hell of a good fantasy.

  After he cleaned up, he grabbed another beer from the fridge and flopped down on the couch, picking up the letter to Santa.

  So Maria had a Christmas wish, huh? Well, so did he. Something he’d wanted for a very long time. If he played it just right, they could both end up having a very Merry Christmas this year.