Their Little Sugar Cookie (Happy Holidaddies #4)

Chapter 1

JANIE

Perfect bliss. Perfect torture.

That’s what it’s like to sit so close to Mr. Capulet on this airplane. He smells so freaking good. I can’t describe it, but I’m sure it’s an expensive cologne. Something spicy and woodsy.

The torture is that I’m in a heightened state of arousal. Constantly. Even when the flight attendants are moving up and down the aisles, offering snacks.

I can try to push the lust down, ignore it, but the fact is, my pussy tingles around him all the time, no matter what.

Airplane or no airplane, this is a problem.

I’ll be quietly minding my own business at work and he’ll walk past my desk on his way to lunch.

“Do you need anything, Janie?” he’ll ask in his deep, rumbling voice.

“No, sir, but it’s my job to ask you that,” I’ll respond.

“I just want to make sure my employees are taken care of.” He’ll smile on his way out the door.

And I will melt into a lust-puddle in my perfectly proportioned ergonomic office chair. Taken care of? Yes, please take care of me, sir.

It is the absolute worst thing having a crush on your boss. Even worse when your boss is your best friend’s dad.

Out of respect for Ariel, and out of respect for my job, I’ve maintained very firm boundaries.

I don’t contact Mr. Capulet outside of work hours, and never about anything that isn’t specifically work-related.

At company events, I never take the seat next to him unless it’s the last one available.

And I always call him “sir,” or “Mr. Capulet.” Never by his first name, no matter how many times he asks. “Christopher” is not an option.

However, we are currently on an airplane flying back to California from a company vacation. He wants to see Ariel, and I decided to come home early and surprise my family. I’d told them I would miss our traditional day-after-Christmas get-together, but now I’ll be able to make it.

Mom’s sugar cookies, here I come!

“Are you glad to skip out early?” Mr. Capulet asks after the attendant has dropped off our breakfast muffins.

“Yes, and no,” I say honestly. “I’m looking forward to seeing my family and eating sugar cookies, but I was having a good time at the ski lodge.”

“I know it’s strange to have a company vacation over Christmas.” He gives me a rueful smile. “It was partly to give those of us without families who celebrate, a place to go and enjoy the holiday break.”

He was one of those lonely people. He lost his wife when Ariel and I were twelve. He and Ariel were inseparable until he fucked up and took the side of her manipulative, gaslighting ex-boyfriend.

Now, though, they’re reconciling—hence the trip back to San Esteban. I’m happy for them, and even an early end to our trip won’t change that.

We tell a few jokes about the way Mathieu, one of the company’s top sellers, bragged about his prowess on the snowboard. “I almost went to the Olympics,” he’d said. Then on the first day of our vacation, he proceeded to crash so hard on a supposedly easy route, he didn’t get on a board again.

“He was faking that injury,” I say.

“Really?” Mr. Capulet raises his eyebrows and grins.

“He was walking fine when he thought no one was looking. He practically strutted by the red-haired bartender last night.”

Mr. Capulet laughs. “He’s never going to live this down, is he?”

“Nope. I mean, I won’t make a big deal out of it, but Ashley will.” I grin. “And I’ll probably laugh when she does. It’s too hard not to.”

I fight back a yawn. I want to stay awake and talk to Mr. Capulet. It’s rare I get his undivided attention like this. But we had to leave for the airport at four a.m. this morning. The lack of sleep is catching up to me. Feeling warm and protected, I fall asleep.

My dream is wild—and wildly arousing. I’m on my knees in front of Mr. Capulet, mouth open while he taunts me with his cock.

He pushes it toward my lips, but never touches me with it.

I stick out my tongue, trying to lick him, but he pulls back at the last second.

I strain forward. Something holds me back.

I turn to look behind me and find my ex-boyfriend, Taggert Shaw. He grips my shoulders, his sexy forearms flexed. I want to scream in frustration. Even here? Even here, in my dreams, you’re holding me back?

He glares down at me, a sadistic glint in his playful blue eyes. As I struggle against his firm hands, he switches his grasp from my shoulders to my nipples, pinching me in an excruciatingly pleasurable way.

I cry out, my pussy clamping down on emptiness, before waking with a start.

I’m still on the airplane. I’m leaning on Mr. Capulet’s shoulder.

I just had an orgasm.

CHRISTOPHER

I’m glad I cut the company vacation short and rushed home to see Ariel.

It was the right thing to do. Repairing our father-daughter relationship is my number one priority.

We were close after her mother died, finding solace in making our little family of two feel whole again with movie nights, barbecues with extended family, and trips to baseball games and museums.

Then I fell for her ex’s lies. I was blinded by my own worry of Ariel’s health and happiness, and I thought Leon was a decent guy who had her best interests at heart.

He was a fucking snake, and he betrayed us all.

So it’s good that I came home the day after Christmas and had lunch with Ariel. I think it meant a lot to us both.

Cutting my vacation short had an additional benefit: it’s putting distance between Janie and me.

Yes, that Janie. Ariel’s best friend.

I thought an upscale ski resort would mean bulky clothes and outdoor group activities. Zero temptation, right?

No. It turns out, Janie doesn’t ski. But she does love hanging around the resort, sipping hot chocolate that makes her smell delectable, and then donning a tiny bikini to hang out in the spa. Her dark hair swirled around her shoulders in the water. I couldn’t tear my gaze from her.

She then decided to come home when I did, so we sat next to each other on the plane. We joked and laughed, and Janie fell asleep on my shoulder.

I’m old enough to be her father, but that didn’t stop me from noticing the way her cleavage showed at the neck of her blouse. It didn’t stop me from thinking about what she’d do if she saw how hard I was for her. Would she recoil in horror…or would she lean over and lend a helping hand?

While she slept, she made the cutest little sounds. They sounded suspiciously like sexy moans, but that had to be my imagination. I’m sure of it. There’s no reason she would be aroused on an airplane while sitting next to me.

Even the shared drive from the airport to San Esteban was filled with tension. I wanted to tackle her, or better yet, pull her onto my lap so she could ride me and work out our frustrations…

Fuck. Fuck. This is so wrong. I’m walking around my empty house, fantasizing about my daughter’s friend.

I should do something productive, like unpack.

So I head to my room where I left my plain, black carry-on. I pop it open, ready to get to work.

Inside aren’t my clothes, though. Little sweaters, soft pants. A tiny bikini.

This is Janie’s luggage. We laughed that we had similar luggage, and I thought we made sure to grab the correct bags.

She came in to freshen up before the driver took her to her place.

Something about a family Christmas party she needed to get ready for.

She came out of the bathroom with a fresh coat of lipstick, grabbed what we both thought was her carry-on, and then she was gone.

And now I’m standing here staring at an open suitcase filled with Janie’s clothes.

Including her panties, zipped into a mesh pocket. A plain, pink cotton thong catches my eye.

Don’t do it, you sick fuck. Don’t do it…

I unzip the pocket and pick up the thong. The fabric is soft, a little stretchy. I lift it to my nose and inhale, pulling in faint laundry detergent, as well as Janie’s sweet scent.

Put the panties back, you disgusting sicko.

I shove down my pants and rub that soft, sweet-smelling fabric all over my dick.

Janie could be wearing them right now, rocking back and forth on me, grinding against me to get herself off.

I imagine capturing one of her pert nipples between my teeth and biting down, causing her to cry out in blissful pain.

I rub myself with her panties again and again, harder and harder, until I come, catching my spurts in the fabric.

Her pretty pink panties are soiled. I did this, I soiled them.

I guess they’re mine, now.