Christmas Lovers, an erotic novella for the festive season . . .
A scorching hot companion to Tainted Lovers . . .
Adrienne expects her annual work’s Christmas party to be as dull as usual. A six-course meal and cases of champagne, dozens of government people all in the same banquet room, her dashing husband by her side… it all sounds pretty straightforward.
It’s just a pity that someone at the Christmas party recognises her husband and all for the wrong reasons. Will it ruin their private time away from the kids, or reinvigorate their sex life in a new, unexpected way?
This decadent, dark companion novella to Tainted Lovers is pure erotica, proving true passion transcends even the most diabolical of coincidences.
***This novella contains MAJOR PLOT SPOILERS for Tainted Lovers. It is recommended you read the novel first.***
I’m utterly disgusted and absolutely mortified. At the dinner table finally, we’re only sat opposite the girl who allegedly saw David in a porn movie! When she catches sight of him so close up, she actually begins pouring with sweat and drinking vast amounts of water.
“I want a seat somewhere else,” I demand of my husband.
“Look at the place, we’re packed in as it is. No way are they gonna let us swap seats now, not when allergies have been accounted for and all our menu choices stamped on the backs of the waiter’s heads, otherwise we could have blowfish city on our consciences tonight. I’m told the first course is bouillabaisse and Mika has a fish allergy. He could be hospitalised tonight if we move.”
I groan, and realise I better just deal with it.
Trouble is I don’t even want to flirt with David to make her squirm.
So maybe I’ll just make him squirm instead…
He holds up his hands. “Just gossip I heard at the urinals, that’s all.”
“I told you not to use those but use the cubicles. You always get blokes trying to look, as if they know… like they think they know… and they want to confirm it.”
David strokes a long finger up the length of my arm, from the inside of my wrist to my shoulder.
“There was a queue for the cubicles. It sounded as though Jerry and Jeremy were practising baby making. Look at them…”
I look down the table and realise David’s right! They’ve been screwing in the bathroom before dinner.
“An amuse-bouche, perhaps,” my other half suggests.
“Quite frankly, I have never done such a thing before in my life!” I protest, for the benefit of any weak-hearted Christian earwiggers nearby, but when David’s hand squeezes my thigh under the table, I remember that I have – many times, of course.
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