Holiday Kink

By Eve Langlais

All I want for Christmas is for my husband to spank me—and more.

A decadent fantasy. An impossible wish.

How do I tell my best friend and lover of twenty plus years that my sexual desires have changed from vanilla to kinky?

Never underestimate the one you love. This holiday season, my husband is about to surprise me with the greatest gift of all by making all of my new fantasies come true.

Merry Kinky Christmas to me.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eve Langlais
• Release date: Jan 8, 2015
• ISBN: 9781927459614

Eve Langlais

New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author Eve Langlais is a Canadian mom of three who loves to write hot romance. Her twisted imagination and sarcastic sense of humor tend to heavily influence her stories with giggle worthy results. As one of the authors in the Growl anthology, you can be treated to her version of romance featuring a shapeshifter, because she just loves heroes that growl--and make a woman purr. To find out more about Eve please visit her website or find her on Facebook where she loves to interact with readers.

Book preview

Description

All I want for Christmas is for my husband to spank me—and more.

A decadent fantasy. An impossible wish.

How do I tell my best friend and lover of twenty plus years that my sexual desires have changed from vanilla to kinky?

Never underestimate the one you love. This holiday season, my husband is about to surprise me with the greatest gift of all by making all of my new fantasies come true.

Merry Kinky Christmas to me.

Chapter One

‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house,

Not a cock was a thrusting, not even aroused.

The slaves were all hung spread-eagle with care,

In hopes Master Nick soon would be there.

I, in my corset, and Andrew in his strap,

Had just settled down for a well-sated nap.

At the sound of familiar footsteps, I slammed my notebook shut, and just in time, too, as Andrew entered my study—early from work for once. Still dressed in his office suit—neatly pressed jacket and slacks, white, collared shirt and tie. If you looked for a definition of what a proper businessman should wear, you’d see a picture of my husband, who never left the house looking less than professional.

Did I ever get the urge to muss his hair or leave a lipstick stain on his collar?

All the time. But I didn’t. I doubted his heart could handle the shock.

You’re home early. I stated the obvious, trying to give my nerves time to calm down. A few minutes earlier and I would have been caught with my hand in my cookie jar. As it was, the scent of pleasure hung in the air, an erotic perfume my husband didn’t seem to notice. I furtively wiped my sticky fingers on my pant leg. How I wished I had the nerve to have him lick them.

He shrugged. With Christmas only a few days away, the office is almost empty, and most of my clients are on vacation. No point in hanging around. You hungry? he inquired. He held aloft a visibly steaming bag of Chinese food. Yum.

I am starved. Masturbating tended to give me an appetite.

I shoved my notebook under a pile of papers before I stood and shot him a smile, which might have shone a tad too bright. I attempted an innocent look, which was easy to manage, given my urge to laugh hysterically. The crotch of my panties was damp from my recent bout of self-pleasure, and I wondered if the moisture would seep through my slacks.

Andrew turned from me and headed to the kitchen, oblivious to my racing heart and guilty conscience. Married for almost twenty-five years and hiding things from my husband. I didn’t know what was worse. The secret I hid or the fact that he didn’t seem to perceive something was amiss. How could he not realize our relationship had changed? Or, should I say, I had changed. Hell, how could he miss my flushed cheeks and the smell of my orgasm in the air? Surely even he wasn’t that oblivious.

But then again, after twenty-five years, why would he suspect the drastic change I’d undergone?

As I followed him into the dining room, not for the first time, I wondered why I found myself too scared to tell him about my clandestine thoughts and doings. Well, not so much doings as researching and fantasizing. The Internet was such an informative place.

Looking at Andrew shrugging off his suit jacket and loosening his tie—the epitome of strait-laced—I restrained a sigh. I can’t tell him. He’ll think I’m a freak or, even worse, think I don’t love him, which couldn’t be further from the truth. I loved my husband. I would never do anything to intentionally hurt him. However, there was no changing reality though; I was bored with our sex life. What was left of it anyway. Like many couples, we’d gotten complacent with our sex