Holly's Christmas Dom-Brieanna-final edit

Evernight Publishing ®

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright©
2015 Raven McAllan

 
ISBN: 978-1-77233-631-3

Cover
Artist: Jay Aheer

Editor:
Brieanna Robertson

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RESERVED

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This
is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any
resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or
dead, is entirely coincidental.

HOLLY’S
CHRISTMAS DOM

Winters’ Tales, 1

Raven
McAllan

Copyright © 2015

Chapter
One

"I'm gonna deck Mac Hall if he doesn't stop
ogling me," Holly Winters told her triplet siblings as they stood in the
snow along with a couple of dozen others and sang carols outside the war
memorial in the village square, a few yards from the old stone kirk. The
singing was with more gusto than tone on Holly's part, and there was a lot of
and mutters between each verse as Mrs. McKillop, the organist, and the minister's
wife, got her keyboard to work in the cold.

It was tradition that once the annual Christmas Eve
church service finished, the congregation went outside to sing—something Holly
usually enjoyed.

Not tonight, though. Tonight, she was unnerved and
jittery, and it was all Mac Hall's fault.

Noel sniggered. "I know what I'd like to do to him,
and hitting him...well, not violently, isn't it. Hitting on him, hmm, now that's
a different matter. Sadly, he doesn't swing my way." He rolled his eyes.
Noel was happy in his own skin. As he said, being gay wasn't just a state of
mind, it was a state of being. And for all his joking, Noel knew that even if
Mac had been gay, he wouldn't fancy him. They'd grown up together and would
always be more like brothers than lovers. Sharing a bath, your first skinny
dipping, and secrets of the heart did that to you.

 
"Ssh,"
Carol, the third triplet, said. "We're being glared at from all corners."

Holly, Noel, and Carol. They often joked how glad they
were there hadn't been another boy in the family. As their mum was sappy over
all things Christmas, the poor thing would probably have been called Mistletoe,
even if he was born in June.

"Mac always looks at you," Carol said.
"That's why we used to sing this as kids." Carol began to sing in a
tuneful voice, "Deck Mac Hall with blows, says Holly. Tra, la, lala, la,
la, la, la, la." As she was the only one who could carry a note, it
sounded tuneful.

Her siblings laughed and sang the traditional version.

"If he doesn't stop checking out my boobs, I'll deck
him out, with my fist in his balls," Holly said once the last lines of
'Deck the Halls’ ended.

With what her siblings called her "hard stare,"
after a storybook character and his propensity for giving "hard stares,"
she glared at the offending guy. He, the bugger, winked.

Holly turned her back on him and ground her teeth. Yes,
Mac Hall was everything a girl wanted in a man. He made her clit clench, her thong
damp, and her nerve endings tingle as she thought about him. In fact, he was
too much of everything. However, she so wished he'd stop looking at her as if
she was his dish of the day.

That thought made her remember something she'd
received a few weeks earlier and, damn it, her juices began to coat her pussy.
Her bare, as requested, pussy.

Perhaps she
was
the dish of the day.

"And that would help you when you give in and
have your wicked way with him, how?" Carol asked as she linked arms with Holly.

"Eh?" Holly had no idea what Carol was
talking about. Then she remembered her own last words about checking his balls
with her fist. "As I'm not giving in, it would give me satisfaction. Great
satisfaction."

"Come on, Holls, stop kidding yourself. I don't
know who you're punishing and for what, but I know how you feel about
him."

You don't, you really
don't.

"Why don't you just put him out of his misery and
let him have a grope?" Carol said in such a tone Holly wanted to hit her
instead of Mac.

"You can mark him ten out of ten for artistic
merit and skill, and that would be it. Everyone’s happy. Well, not Noel, who
still thinks he might have a chance, but we all know he's delusional."

Holly giggled as Noel pretended to be offended. She
knew fine well Noel neither wanted a chance nor had one.

All of Mac's attention was on her. He was open and
honest about it, and had warned her what he wanted and what he expected from
her. It scared her shitless as well as made her wet and excited. No soft and
gentle wooing. No flowers and candlelit dinners. More orgasm torture, nipple
clamps, and butt plugs. Macdonald Sutherland Hall wanted the lot. Immediately.

And if I say yes, that's
it. No turning back. And I'm not sure I dare.

Holly was scared. She'd fought long and hard to get
where she was, and she wasn't prepared to give it all up. She wanted a two-way
street, not a dead end. Whatever Mac had said in the past about partnerships
and trust, Holly was skeptical. His reputation went before him. But oh how she
hoped she'd have the guts to give it all a chance.

"Earth to Holly." Carol poked her. "Your
ogler is approaching."

Holly blinked. She'd been miles away, in her own
little world.

"Incoming ogler at eight o'clock." Noel
smirked.

"Sod off, Noel, or I'll tell Miriam Black you've
gone straight and fancy her."

Noel winced theatrically and got down on his knees in
front of her. He wrung his hands and, in a very over-the-top, dramatic way
proclaimed, "No, no never that."

"Oh get up, you numpty, you're all snowy
now." Holly tugged his ear.

Noel laughed as he scrambled to his feet and dusted
snow off his knees. "Hey, I'll leave you to him. Mind you, sister mine, it
pains me to see such a good body wasted on someone who doesn't notice it. A
woman at that. Laters, girls." He sketched a wave and walked off toward
the village pub, his boots crunching on the crisp snow.

"I'm with him." Carol kissed Holly on the
cheek before she moved away. She turned suddenly and went back to Holly's side.
"Remember, Holly. Have an open mind here. The man has depths you want to
explore and share. Don't shut your mind off. Every relationship is equal. Just
some equality is different than others."

Holly stared at her in concern. Carol didn't look
tipsy. Her voice was steady, and they hadn't been to the pub yet. Surely Communion
wine couldn't affect you? Wasn't it non-alcoholic?

"Vern the vibe is a poor substitute for a man,"
Carol said, using the nickname of the vibrator they'd bought from a sex shop
when they were giggling schoolgirls. "After all, he's only got two speeds,
on and off."

Holly giggled as she remembered the furtive way they'd
gone into the shop and hoped no one noticed them. Of course Mac had seen them
and teased her unmercifully for weeks afterward. She wondered whatever had
happened to good old Vern. They'd tossed for it, and Carol had won.

Carol hugged her and followed Noel. Holly shivered. It
was bloody cold and the wind must have come straight from the Arctic. She
needed to go inside before her bits froze. Why the hell did she have a skirt
and stockings and suspenders on?

Because he told me to.

Damn Mac. All she wanted was a quiet life, not a
clit-quivering tingle every time he came within five yards of her.
Liar.
On cue, her body responded to his
presence, and her nipples chafed painfully on her lacy bra. Damned if she
shouldn't have said fuck it and worn her thermal vest.

"Your eyes are saying, take me, I'm yours,"
a deep male voice whispered in her ear. "Have you decided yet? I told you,
Holly. It has to be your decision, not mine. If you say yes, we'll set the
rules. Not until then. If you say no? Ah well, only I'll know what you've
turned down." His kiss on the nape of her neck sent a totally different sort
of shiver through her. If his look dampened her thong, his kiss had soaked it.

"Well?" he asked. His voice was patient, his
tone as conversational as if they were talking about the weather, not their
future, and like they were alone instead of in the middle of a crowd of locals.
All who looked at them without any curiosity. Mac and Holly, Holly and Mac. Old
friends who had bickered their way through school, and stood up for each other
when necessary. Everyone knew that.

 
"Holly,
you've had time. We decided on Christmas Eve. That's tonight." Mac stamped
his feet in the snow. The air was frosty, and his breath created white misty
swirls around his lips.

"You said midnight," Holly reminded him. "And
if we're being precise, I've had ten years. Now I still have half an hour."
She pointed at the church clock.

The nip on her neck made her jump. "Sassy. Twenty-seven
minutes and counting. But remember, so did I. Wait ten years. So?"

Damn him, I'm so not
ready.
However,
deep down, she knew she was more than ready, just scared to admit it.

"So you can wait. I'll meet you in the Cock and
Bull then."

Mac spun her around to face him. His eyes narrowed,
and the flecks of gold in the dark brown irises were hidden from view. "You
wouldn't be thinking of reneging, would you?" His voice was enough to make
her want to sink to her knees. Talk about dominant and commanding. It was all
that and more. It was just as well they were in the village square and there
was ice and snow on the ground. Her at his feet? Now
that
would give the locals something to talk about. "I'll be
mighty pissed if you are." He put his arm around her, and his hand
caressed her ass through the heavy coat she was wearing. Even through all the
layers, the heat of his touch seared her skin.

Scary and, damn it,
exciting. Sod him. If he moves that finger any harder, it'll be in my asshole.
It was a thought that
made her breath hitch.

"Whatever you decide, I want to hear it from
you," Mac said. "To look into your eyes and see if it's the truth or
you're running scared. "

"I don't break promises, Mac. If you think I do,
let's call it all off now." Holly knew her tone reflected her hurt, and
she didn't care. Even if she still didn't know what her answer would be, she
had no intention of chickening out of their meeting.

Liar. You do know. You've
always known.

"Oh no. You're not getting out of it that easily,"
Mac warned her. "If you want to be a coward, you'll tell me face-to-face.
We've waited this long. It's going to be full-on reasons. Okay, I'm off to grab
us a table. See you soon." He turned on his heel and left her standing in
the now almost deserted square. She guessed a lot of people had gone home, it
was too damned cold to linger, and those who weren't now in front of their own
fires were in the queue to fill the pub.

Holly watched his progress. He was popular like her
brother and one of the local “boys done good” brigade. A lot of people stopped
him to talk as he made his way up the queue. Of course he'd have a table
booked. Mac thought of everything.

Was that good or bad?

 
She noticed
that even though he passed a few words with each of them, his steps hardly
slowed. Deep in thought and still not sure exactly what she was about to
say—and it would no doubt be life changing whatever her answer was—Holly
wrapped her arms around herself and began to walk slowly in the same direction.

"Hey, Holly!" Noel shouted from a group
chatting outside the pub. Nearly all of them held cigarettes in their hands.
Since smoking was banned in public places, most pubs and office blocks had a
group of people puffing away outside. Holly hated it and told him that as often
as she could.

"Kissing an ashtray, Noel," she said as she
passed her brother. "Who wants that?"

One of the other guys laughed. "Hey, Holls. Tell
him I'd love to please. He so doesn't believe me."

Holly rolled her eyes. Poor Jason, he'd fancied Noel
from afar for years. If only Noel would fancy him back, life would be a lot
simpler for both of them. Although, no, strike that. She'd then be the only
single triplet—Carol being long married and happy in wedded bliss—and everyone's
attention would turn to her.

That made her shudder in not a nice manner. Holly was
very much a private person, and the thought of being in the limelight was
anathema to her.
I will be if I go along
with Mac.

Nevertheless, Noel’s mates were all good guys, and she
loved her brother. If she were honest, she wished Noel would give Jason a
chance. Noel had told her in one drunken confess-fest he fancied Jason, but was
very much a believer in the adage “not in my back yard.” As Noel only came back
to the village once in a blue moon, Holly couldn't see how it mattered. He had
told her it did. Because if everything fell through, how would he be able to
cope? It didn't seem to matter how much she told him she was sure it wouldn't,
this was one scenario Noel wasn't at all confident about.

Now, Noel waved a bag at her. "Want your shoes? I'll
take your boots." Holly thought for a second. She'd forgotten she'd
stashed her more elegant footwear in his car. It would be good to ditch her fur-lined,
elephant-patterned wellies and meet Mac in her hard-saved-for Jimmy Choos. They
were guaranteed to make her feel her best. Someone had cleared the pavement of
snow to create a narrow strip of path, so she could access the building easily
and not ruin them. Later? She'd worry about later when she had to. Wasn't
running barefoot in the snow supposed to be good for the circulation?