The Krampus arrives tomorrow. His Son is already here.
Emeric is a gorgeous lawyer with hair blacker than midnight and eyes bluer than a North Pole morning. He’s proud of his father and heritage, having grown up in the 19th-century hearing all the stories of his Vati traveling the world at the side of Santa.
“I was simply thinking hair of midnight, eyes of silvery blue, a body that’d make the old Italian masters weep with pride…”
That brought a blush to his cheeks, but she noticed he happily accepted the compliment.
“And ‘Justice’ tattooed to your arm. You’re not Batman, are you?”
A laugh rolled through Emeric’s chest, drawing her attention and fingers back to the forest of hair. “Even if I were Batman,” he asked with an accent growing stronger, his body rising above hers, “would I tell you?”
Nadire’s devoted her life to her father’s work. Four business degrees under her belt, Nadire knows she’s the only reason the North Pole is still running in this modern age. The gifts of Saint Nick have granted her the ability to know what a person wants. While incredibly helpful to do her job, it’s left her personal life nonexistent. That’s never mattered to her when it’s on her shoulders to bring Christmas to all children around the world.
“I can’t hear your wants.” She tapped her head. “It bothered me at first, as if I was deaf and I thought you didn’t…you wouldn’t…”
“Ah.” A blush churned up his cheeks as he remembered her confused and concerned looks from their first time. “I can assure you, for what little the word of a lawyer and child of Krampus can mean,” Emeric raised his eyes so they blazed in hers, “I am incapable of not wanting you.”
Son of Krampus is steamier than a mug of hot cocoa spiked with brandy.
“What was…?” Emeric began when Nadire enveloped his face in her hands. She pulled him to her famished lips, kisses erupting against not only his slack mouth but down his throat.
As she brushed her bottom lip through the looming five-o’-clock shadow on his chin, she said, “No talking.”
“Just…?” He tried to stare into her captivating eyes, but they were shadowed in the near dark living room of some too wealthy businessman.
The daughter of Saint Nicholas, the growing thorn in his side, the woman that boiled his blood circled her hands around his chest. She seemed to weigh the same thoughts as he did. How foolish it was to give in to this primal lust. It was forgivable when they didn’t know who the other was, but now?
“Yes,” Nadire whispered, her hand cupping up his arm. “Just this.”
Emeric raised his hands from her satiny waist to those breasts that taunted him the entire night. When the tips of his fingers danced in her fiery cleavage, Nadire’s mouth parted, her pant rolling down his throat. She shifted on her heels, her hands finding their way to excise his shirt from its industrial tuck.
Even as she squirmed in his grip, her lower belly bouncing into his hips as if she knew precisely what she was exciting, Nadire quickly undid every button. “Oh sweet lord,” Emeric gasped. Her burning palm flush to the naked skin of his chest ignited the oil in his veins.
A smirk played about those lips still sporting most of her crimson stain. Slowly, she drew her hand downward, her fingertips casting ripples through his body. Emeric tossed his head back, trying to funnel air and common sense into a body quickly slipping beyond his grasp.
He needn’t check to know he was at full attention in his trousers. It happened the moment her lips pressed to his, and he wondered if it could even deflate in her presence. Certainly not while she was drawing her palm towards his fly. His hands were filled with her breasts, Nadire’s skin flushing from the joy radiating out of the touch, but she had him fully under her control.
At the sound of his zipper tugging apart, Emeric shook off the humming trumpets in his head. Ripping away the sentinel of chivalry inside his soul, he gripped his hands to her ass and hauled her into the air. Nadire’s hand fell off his fly, his pants barely tugged to his hips as he carried her through the living room. Not far, though he could handle the strain on his arms. It was the one in his pants that had both his concerns and attention.
She laughed as her body flew through the air, her naked legs gliding around his waist. Tender lips brushed against his forehead, trying to find his mouth, but Emeric was dead set on his path. At a sturdy end table, he swiped off the priceless lamp not caring when it bounded against the floor with an ominous crack.