Holly's Christmas Dom-Brieanna-final edit (3 page)

Chapter
Four

Mac watched her go and knew he had a scowl on his
face. He had never had such a prolonged hard-on without easing it since he was
a randy teenager and...yeah, had lusted after Holly Collette Winters. It had
been just as well, he thought as he un-corked a bottle of alcohol free
wine—he’d save the merlot for when she confirmed no play, just chat—that she
was Noel's sister. Because of that, it had been hands off. As a randy,
hormone-fueled eighteen-year-old with more than a passing interest in all
things BDSM, he'd promised Noel he wouldn't touch her until they were older. He
didn't think either of them expected he'd have to wait ten years. Was she still
a virgin? Although he couldn't expect she'd waited—after all, he wasn't—Mac had
no idea for sure, but thought she could well be. She didn't act like someone
who knew everything.

And how would that be,
idiot? No one wears a label saying virgin or non-virgin.
It was more a feeling
he had. Or wishful thinking
.
He knew
she'd had boyfriends. Damn it, he'd even had a few warned off and wasn't
ashamed of it. Holly Winters was his until she said otherwise. With a quick
mental crossing of his fingers, Mac hoped to hell that wasn't going to happen
in the next couple of hours.

He recorked the bottle, tucked it under his arm, and
snagged two glasses before following her into the lounge. To his pleasure, she'd
chosen not to sit in a chair but on a cushion on the floor in front of the
armchair he usually used.

Behind her, the lights on the Christmas tree he'd
ordered especially in the hope of this meeting twinkled in the firelight. Her
namesake was tucked around each picture frame. Christmas cards were hung on
silk ribbons down each wall. He had a very cock-arousing idea for those ribbons
after the festive period. If...

Don't even go there.

"Wine?" He held the bottle up, and she
dipped her head. “It’s non alcoholic, just in case.” He didn’t say in case of
what and she decided not to ask. “I have merlot for later if we need it.”

That dip of her head stretched his nerve endings to
the limit.
I want that all the time, for
the right reasons.

"Go on then. It’ll be champagne of the alcoholic
type tomorrow. It’s Christmas, after all. And it looks like we're snowed in."
Holly waved toward the uncovered windows where snow was gathering on the glass.
"My mum will go ape if I'm not there for dinner tomorrow." She took
the glass he offered her. "Ah well."

"Hours until then," Mac said. "And she's
invited me as well. Cheers, Holly. Happy birthday."

"Oh shit, yeah. Don't remind me. Twenty-eight,
and as my gran says, 'Oh lovey, you're getting on a bit to still be single.'
Gah. No. I. Am. Not."

"No, you're not. Noel is the same age and
single—allegedly. And before you ask..."

Holly rolled her eyes and crossed them. It was a trick
he'd been most envious of when they were kids. "I know, you're not
telling. That's different evidently. Gran says, and I quote, 'he's off all over
the world with that band stuff.' He needs to sew his wild oats before settling
down with a nice young lady, according to Gran. Poor love. When she was told he
was gay, bless her, she said, 'Ah, he's always been cheerful.'"

Mac almost spewed wine all over her. He'd just taken a
mouthful as she spoke. Instead, he choked, and tears streamed down his cheeks.
Holly patted him on the back.

"Oh dear, did it go down the wrong way? Did you
blow not suck?" Her eyes sparkled with mirth, and her shoulders shook.

"Would you like me to show you the difference?"
Mac asked in a deliberately deceptive and innocent voice. "I'll be happy
to. If I do, though, all else is off. Including your clothes. Be careful,
Holly." He lowered his tone, and watched her eyes dilate.
Oh yes, pet, you're more than ready for me
.
"You can only tweak the tiger's tail so often before he rears up and bites
you. We're not kids anymore. It's not skinny-dipping in the river or peeking
into the boys changing rooms. I want you. In every way a man wants a woman and
probably in more ways than most. So now I'm going to sit over there opposite
you and tell you what I want." He paused. "What I am."

The silence was absolute as he stared steadily at her.
A coal dropped in the grate, and they both jumped.

"Okay," Holly said slowly. She straightened
her shoulders and spoke. As she did, her voice strengthened. "Yes, okay.
Deck me with it, Mac Hall."

He grinned. "Yeah, and don't think I don't know
you lot were singing that little ditty at the carol service. You got me
suspended in high school for thumping Jason Harris for writing that on a notice
board in the student's lounge. Well, that in addition to the carol service 2
p.m. notice, he’d tacked on, ‘Who is servicing Carol?’"

Holly gasped. "That was Jason Harris? I'll cut
his balls off with a blunt penknife. No, actually thinking about it, I'll let
Noel bite them off. He might as well get some enjoyment first."

How he loved her warped sense of humor. "Noel or
Jason?"

"Both," she said darkly. "Anyway, go
on. I'm listening."

Mac let out the breath he hadn't known he was holding.
At least she
was
going to listen.

****

Would he explain so she could understand? Holly knew
she wanted Mac. Even listening to the stories whispered but never confirmed
about his less than usual preferences, her clit had tingled, and her pussy
swelled. She remembered one memorable occasion when...
No. Do not go there, not now. Concentrate, not saturate.
The way
her wayward thoughts were still soaking her thong, Holly wasn't sure she'd be
able to do either. Her body was covered in goose bumps, her nipples so hard it
was a wonder they hadn't poked holes in her bra, and her breathing was erratic.
One touch from him, anywhere on her body, and she'd jump him, or come on the
spot.

He had warned her he'd be back for her, but in truth,
she hadn't really believed him. As the years passed and she watched his
popularity grow, how could she even dare to hope he'd come home and claim her?
Even though every summer he returned, spent time teasing her, tantalizing her,
and telling her he'd be back, for the first few years, he did nothing more than
kiss and cuddle. Then, once she was over twenty-one, the cuddles became more
personal, the kisses deeper, and in her mind, they increased in intensity. Her
body responded to each gentle—and not so gentle—touch. He encouraged her to
explore his body as well as her own. Nonetheless, he never crossed what he
called the defining line, however much she provoked him. This year, he had
warned her he'd be home for Christmas. Holly hadn't dared believe him. Noel
came without fail, jetting in from wherever their last concert had taken place.
Mac never did.

Once she'd asked him why he never came for the festive
season. He'd smiled, gave a sad, lonely look, and said simply, "Not until
I can celebrate with you in the way I need." Whatever she'd said after
that, however much she'd pushed and prodded, he'd refused to elaborate. "You'll
know when the time comes."

Did this mean it was the time?

A few weeks earlier, Holly had decided to have a day
in Edinburgh. She loved the city in December. Christmas markets, mulled wine,
an ice rink, and a big wheel. To say nothing of hunky stallholders, and usually
a musical on at the Playhouse. Carol had decided to accompany her, and then
dropped her bombshell. Scotialuna were playing a surprise gig, and she had tickets
for them.

Holly thought Noel must have sent them. Carol had said
no, Mac had.

And there after the show, he'd taken her to one side
and said simply, "Now, Holls, it's time. Be ready." His kiss had
marked her, rocked her to the core, and made her weak with longing. As she
leaned into him, he ended the kiss, and she saw the regret in his eyes. "Not
here and now. Soon."

That brief meeting had been followed with flowers and
an e-mail. Video Skype from backstage at Wembley and a phone call each night.
All innocuous, nothing telling of his feelings, until he had turned up on her
doorstep a week earlier.

Her jaw dropped and so did her gaze at the smoldering
and oh so dominant look he'd given her.

Mac had stood in her hallway and told her starkly, "Holly,
you know I want you. I have for years, and now's the time to ask if you want
me." Her heart leaped, but before she had the chance to reply, he added, "It
would be no straightforward relationship. In many ways, I'm not
straightforward. I have very definite ideas about what I want from you. You
need to think if you want to know what they are." She'd opened her mouth
to ask questions, and he'd stopped them with a kiss that made her toes curl.
When he stood back, she'd just stared.

"Dominant, Holls. Think about it. If you want me,
you'll submit to me. I'll be back, and we can talk. Read this please. Have
faith." He handed her an envelope and left, leaving her standing,
wide-eyed, looking at the open door. That had been it.

Until tonight, when she'd glimpsed him across the
village green, she still hadn't believed him. Even after she'd opened the
damned envelope and seen his handwriting, she hadn't dared think of him in a
positive way. Because how could she? After reading his ideas, what he needed
from her, and not knowing if it was in her to do as he demanded, Holly had
worried herself into not sleeping. He wouldn't come back and ask her. If he
did, she couldn't say yes. Or could she? His demands made her itch to come,
except there in the letter it said,

“If you are thinking in
any way positive about this, you do not come until I say so. Your climax
belongs to me.”

Even if she thought she might agree, she had no faith
he would seek her out or that she truly was who he wanted. But she didn't make
herself come.

Now he was here and it was make-your-mind-up time. Her
stomach jitterbugged as she drank in his image. Mac. Maybe soon-to-be her Mac.
Her lips still tingled from his kiss—the rest of her just tingled.

"Holly, I've wanted you ever since you turned
from the long-legged skinny kid who whined when Noel and I went off and did boy
things into this stunning teenager with curves. A body to drool over and an ass
I want to paddle. For all the right—or wrong—reasons." He stopped speaking
and took a mouthful of wine.

His swallow made her mouth dry up. That simple
movement, the way his throat moved, and the play of his muscles, was so erotic
her skin heated, and her senses went into high alert.

Hell, I have it bad if a
simple swallow makes me think of sex. Of him swallowing me, me swallowing him,
and—oh shit, I do have it bad.

Mac cleared his throat. So caught up in the moment,
Holly realized she'd missed what he'd said.

"Sorry," she apologized. "I was miles
away. So you're going to explain what you want? I'm ready to hear. I..." She
hesitated. "To be honest, Mac, I'm interested, but I'm not sure I can be
what you want. I'm no subservient. I like to be in charge. Hell, if I didn't, I'd
never have left the village. I'd still be here, working for Mr. McKenzie as his
typist. Not even a secretary or PA. Instead, I run my own recruitment agency in
the city, have staff, and I'm happy."

"Are you? Really?" he asked, his eyes more
than curious. "I'd say that is only one small part of you."

Holly decided she now knew the meaning of the expression
“looked into your soul.” Her body was scorched by that look, her mind playing
hopscotch as it jumped from one thought to another. She couldn't help it—she
squirmed.

"Happy? I'm not so sure you are," Mac said
in a definite manner. Even though his voice was low, the ring of sincerity and
authority was clear. "Not missing something in your life? I think you are.
That indefinable spark has gone from you, Holly. I can provide it if you want.
However, you need to be sure. Very, very sure. I'll stretch you, demand things
of you that you didn't think you were capable of doing." He lowered his
voice even more. "But in return, you'll learn how to fly. And we will be
partners."

Hmm...

"You say that now, Mac, so define the
partnership." She needed it spelled out. "Because how can you
dominate me if are we equals? To me, that's a very unequal partnership."

Mac lifted one hand in the air and his fingers splayed
in what Holly decided was frustration with her.

Well, tough. I need to
understand.

"No, Holly, that's where you're wrong. Okay,
maybe some people want that, but the whole point of this is it will be our relationship.
Ours," he stressed. "Designed by us, for us. There is no
one-scene-fits-all here. I'd say ask ten couples what a Dom-sub relationship
means to them, and you'll get fifteen different answers. But in each and every one,
unless they specify differently, the sub is in charge every time. She or he
calls the shots. Didn't you read my letter?"

"Yes, but..." Holly stopped talking as he
put a finger over his own lips, and then moved it to hers.

"Shh, you always did talk too much. There are so
may other things that gorgeous mouth could be doing."