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Whether it’s a furry red velvet stocking or one as sheer as black silk, why not slip on a naughty read for the holiday?
Meet Nick Radnor, bad boy Scrooge with a Wall Street pedigree.
And his beautiful fiancée. Monique.
Nick is too busy being a one-percenter and making money to buy her a ring.
You’ll lose her because of your selfish ways, the Ghost of Christmas Present tells him.
She gives Nick a second chance when she takes him to a Park Avenue Christmas Eve party…
She looked like his dream girl.
Standing on the balcony. Looking out over the city. A woman he yearned to love and explore, completely his when they made love, even more beautiful than when they’d first met.
A misty snow fell behind her, covering the sidewalks fifteen stories below. Light and pretty and cold. It drifted around Monique, but she didn’t notice. Warm heating lamps and a canopy overhead kept the balcony temperature perfect.
She licked the chocolate with her tongue, savoring the taste. Was she remembering those sweet times with him?
Nick couldn’t resist cozying up to her and getting a whiff of her perfume. Spicy, like he remembered. He couldn’t get enough of her. Her bare back seducing him with the promise of sliding off her silky blue gown and revealing her breasts to him. She couldn’t be wearing a bra and the thought of it was pushing him to the edge.
Get closer to her, Nicky. Pull the pins from her hair. It’ll work. You’re here in the present.
The Ghost. Giving him play by plays.
Okay, he was game. What did he have to lose?
Nick reached out and to his surprise, he felt the cold touch of platinum as he pulled the jeweled pins from her hair and it tumbled down her back like rippling starlight. She drew in a sharp breath, surprised.
She thinks it’s the wind, Nicky. Why don’t you give her a playful slap on her ass?
As if he needed to be told. And by a ghost yet.
He stroked Monique’s bottom with his hand, lovingly cupping her buttocks, then gave her a playful tap. Then another.
That was fun.
“Oh!” Monique cried out, spinning around, her breasts heaving up and down, her eyes disbelieving. She looked behind her, then left then right. She couldn’t see him.
Better yet, he noticed a slight bulge in his pants. Merry Christmas.
You’re on your own now, Nicky boy.
The ghost disappeared, leaving him alone on the balcony with Monique. What next? He could have sex with her, an appealing option, but could he trust himself not to screw it up and lose her for good this time?