Jingle My Balls (Hot-Bites 4)

“Yeah, okay. Getting out with everyone will be nice.” I don’t bother looking at Michael, but I can practically feel his excitement fill the room .

When he finally leaves I look back out the window. I can’t see much but skyscrapers and a murky sky from the winter weather swiftly approaching, but I need something else to focus on besides a certain Kris Kringle-playing hottie who happened to be covered in tattoos and made me sore the next day .

Yeah, Nick definitely ruined me for all other men .

* * *

I sit around with a handful of co-workers, the martini in front of me only half drank. The pub is packed, with bodies almost shoulder-to-shoulder, and the scent of sweat and alcohol filling the air. I swear I can even scent sex lingering, as if all these people are waiting for the liquor to kick in before they take a random stranger home and fuck them .

Kind of like the scenario I keep daydreaming about .

I lift my drink and down half of it, feeling the burn travel down my throat and settle in my belly. “I’ll be right back.” I grab my coat and excuse myself, heading out the front, pushing my way through the thick throng of people crowded in the pub. Once outside, I wrap my jacket around myself a little tighter and lean against the side of the building .

The air is crisp, the winter already here and biting me in the ass. I stare at the crowds of people, shopping bags in their hands, the late night not stopping them from getting their shit done. This is New York, the city that never sleeps, my home, and a place that has over eight million people residing here. There’s no way in hell I’ll ever see Nick again .

The odds are definitely not in my favor .

Chapter 10

Nick

H ow the mighty have fallen .

I’m fucking standing outside a brownstone at nine in the morning, on a Saturday, banging on the door because no one answered the damn doorbell. This is not just any brownstone, however. I look down at the file I’m holding, pausing my knocking—just in case the neighbors in the adjacent townhouses are tempted to call the law .

This brownstone belongs to Keni Preston. That’s why I’m a fucking freak. I’m chasing a client down—a client I had an ill-advised one-night stand with. A one-night stand that could get me sued and destroy my business because I’m being a stalker. And a memory that I’ve jacked off to for the last three days .

A one-night stand I’m starting to think I’ll never be able to forget .

I’m about to turn around and say forget it when the door opens. I’m practically holding my breath—I’m that anxious to see Holly again. Disappointment fills me when a woman with red hair opens the door. She’s definitely not Holly. Her red hair isn’t a vibrant crown on her head. It’s pretty, but it doesn’t have the depth of color Holly’s does. She’s pretty, but she’s not my Holly .

Fuck .

My Holly .

My dick is sewn up over a woman I don’t even know. A woman who probably doesn’t believe my name is actually Nick. A woman who fucked me because of a Santa roleplaying scenario. Shit. I’ve had women fuck me for a lot of reasons. Admittedly, most of them have either fucked me for the size of my dick or the size of my wallet—but absolutely none have fucked me because I was wearing a red velvet coat .

And I can blame my lack of control where Holly is concerned over the fact I haven’t been with a woman in far too damn long. With my business being successful, and the workload keeping me busy, I have no time—or interest—in taking anyone to my bed. But then I saw Holly and everything changed. She made me break a cardinal rule about not getting involved with a client .

“Can I help you?” the woman asks and I notice her eyes are a pale blue. Maybe they would have been pretty before the heated look in Holly’s branded me .

Fuck .

“I’m looking for Holly…uh…Keni Preston ?”

“I’m Keni,” she answers, and the look on my face must have frightened her because she steps back behind the safety of the door .

“No. I’m talking about the Keni who hired Dreamers for a Christmas…” I see the way her eyes widen in surprise. She’s silent for a second and I wonder exactly what the fuck is going on .

“Stop!” she cries, looking around. “That was me,” she hisses. “But I’d rather not have my neighbors know. How did you find out? Who are you ? ”

What the fuck is going on here? I’m starting to get a sick feeling in my stomach and for once it has nothing to do with the fact that Holly isn’t underneath me—at least not entirely .