Christmas Heat Miser Novels & Stories

Daniel said and I turned to glare at him. “I mean, for my friend here!" He said quickly on seeing the shining glint in my eyes. “She must have gone home already! They don't sleep here! That is one of my rules!” He replied, and I felt greatly relieved at his reply, yet wondering why I felt that way. “Humm! Well, let's make do of the ones available! Chester, literally needs a hottie to calm his brains down tonight” Daniel said with a grin and I turned to look at him.

Too much that I was grateful for the distraction of the past few days. To distract myself for the night, I picked up my glass of whiskey and almost emptied it. When I lifted my gaze to Amber’s, I found her watching me. The candlelight cast a beautiful golden glow on her skin. She looked absolutely breathtaking. I raised my glass. “Merry Christmas.” She finally smiled and raised her glass of red wine. “Merry Christmas.” My gaze went to her lips. I took a sip and watched the muscles in her throat move as she swallowed. She caught my eyes and sank her teeth into her bottom lip.

"Well, I'm glad you didn't. Come on, let me help with your bags. You're going to love this place. Dad really outdid himself with the Christmas decorations this year." We grabbed my luggage and headed inside. The moment I stepped through the door, warmth enveloped me. Not just from the heating, but from the house itself. Wood beams stretched across high ceilings. A massive stone fireplace dominated one wall, already crackling with a fire. Garland wrapped around the staircase railing, twinkling with little white lights. "This is incredible," I said, and meant it. "Right? Dad designed it himself. Took like three years to build. Come on, I'll give you the tour."

One soft click. The picture came out tasteful but teasing, enough to make him grin. She smiled, selected Darren’s name, hit send. Then tossed her phone onto the bed and poured herself a glass of cheap red wine. Next week, she'd have her bags packed, ready to head to Maysville, the small town she'd grown up in for Christmas. Her holiday plan was just perfect! Her playlist hummed to life; jazzy, lazy Christmas tunes filling the air. For the first time all day, her shoulders relaxed. She even started humming along, thinking about what tomorrow morning would look like. Morning pancakes, bad movies, Darren’s laugh…

"They were for my daughter. They were her Christmas and birthday present plus her biggest wish... I was going to make her Christmas wish finally come true. AND NOW IT'S ALL RUINED!" By the time she has finished talking, she has gone from sad to angry and it's a side that I like. I would much prefer her anger to her sadness and tears. "Well, there's still time until Christmas and when is her birthday?" she smiles, and for once, it's genuine and happy, and fuck she looks beautiful. "Her birthday is on Christmas day. She's a Christmas baby. A Christmas blessing." Now I can understand her smile because it makes me smile too.

“This is the message." I glared at the screen, the words registering before I could even finish reading. “Shipment NX043- delivery time 12:15- date 12/03/25. Everything was the opposite of how it was supposed to be. Above, was my number boldly written as the sender. “There has to be a mistake," I said, reaching out for my own phone.

Heather POV I’m starting to rethink the idea that I love these men, and it’s not because of the spanking that they just gave me. Oh no, it’s because they knew what it was going to do to me. They still haven’t let me cum and have been keeping me on the edge for the last hour. Why, may you ask? Well, because they think that I didn’t learn my lesson. I ended up getting a total of twenty smacks. Twenty!! Stupid rules about counting and not moving. How was I supposed to concentrate on counting when it felt so good, and so what if I tried to rub on the pillow to get some relief? So, because I ‘enjoyed’ my punishment, they wouldn’t let me cum, and now I’m in the living room in just the old t-shirt

she asked him. He grinned. "I have reservations in St. Bart's." She shook her head. "I should have known." "Should have known what?" he asked defensively. "That you'd have some amazingly fabulous plan for the holidays," Maggie answered, rolling her eyes. "Aren't you going to Rhode Island or something?" he asked, nibbling a curly fry. "Nope, I host the Annual Orphans and Misfits Christmas at my place," she said wryly. "Orphans and misfits?"

And every reminder of the holiday season ate at the edges of his soul and heart like drops of acid. He scowled at the roaring flames in the fireplace, slapped one hand on the mantel, and rubbed his fingers over the polished edge of the wood. With his gaze locked on the flames, Kaleb told himself that if he could, he’d wipe the month of December from the calendar. “If you wish, you can’t stick your head in the snow and pretend Christmas isn’t happening.” Kaleb flicked a glance at the woman in the open doorway. His housekeeper/cook/nag, Martha Stewart, stood there glaring at him through narrowed blue eyes.

“Perhaps you should drink some of this too. It might fix your personality.” One of the kitchen apprentices snorted so loudly he dropped a spoon. Marek stared at me, torn between irritation and something desperate. I drank more of the warm perfectness, sighing happily. “Is this hot chocolate spell part of Christmas?” “It is not a spell,” Marek said. “But yes. People drink it around Christmas.” “Then Christmas has one redeeming quality.” He stared at me with a look I could not decipher. I wiped chocolate from my mouth and smiled at him. “Have some. You need it. You truly look like you have never enjoyed anything in your life.”