Ho Ho Hennessy Read online

Kissing him back, she felt the pain of her past with Marcus melting away under the heat of Hennessy’s mouth. There was no room between them for him to hurt her with his words. Hennessy was replacing them with delicate thrusts of his tongue that had her savoring the flavor of the man himself.

  “Are the cookies burning?” Hennessy whispered against her lips.

  Arin gasped, reluctantly moving away from him to check. “No.”

  Taking them out, she was relieved to see they were on the crispy side, but they weren’t burnt.

  Giving one to Hennessy, she waited expectantly for his opinion.

  “What do you think?”

  “I like the taste of my curvy cutie better.”

  Arin tried one for herself. “It needs something else.”

  “Like what?”

  Arin went to the refrigerator and came back with a gallon of milk.

  “Is that a hint, or did you want milk?”

  Before she could answer, Jack came through the swing door.

  “I smelled the cookies upstairs. Are they done?”

  “Just took them out of the oven. You two mind cleaning up for me? I need to get changed before the children get here.”

  “Go ahead. Hennessy and I have it covered.”

  Taking two cookies and the glass of milk she’d poured, she sauntered toward the door, using her shoulder to keep it from closing.

  “Hennessy … Jack …” Arin waited until they looked up from cleaning the counter. “Save the rest of the cookies for the children. You never know when Santa is watching.”

  Chapter 13

  “She’s my Santa.”

  The men glared at each other when the same words came out of their mouths at the same time.

  “She’s mine.” Hennessy clutched the flour bag, forcing a puff to escape.

  “She’s mine,” Jack contradicted. “My naughty Santa gift today was a thermal mug with marshmallows inside. She knows I love cocoa with marshmallows.”

  “One of mine was a cock warmer, and it was the right size. None of the women in the club would know if it would fit except for her.”

  “It was a lucky guess or a one size fits all.”

  “One size might fit your tiny dick, but not mine.”

  “You fucking wish.”

  Having enough of the smug brother, Hennessy was just about to use the brother’s long hair to mop the floor when Moon and Reaper came through the door.

  “Are those fresh cookies I smell?”

  Hennessy slapped Moon’s hand away from the cookies when he reached for one.

  “Did you just smack my hand?” Moon narrowed his eyes at him.

  “If you have to ask, I must not have hit it hard enough. Arin made them for the kids. If she didn’t want Jack and me to have any when we helped make them, you sure as fuck don’t get any.”

  “Fuckhead,” Moon said but moved away from the cookies.

  “Fuckwad,” Hennessy shot back, about to smart off to Reaper, too, if he reached for a cookie.

  The fucker didn’t just take one; he took three.

  Hennessy kept his silent curse to himself as the brother dared him with his eyes to say something.

  “The milk is on the counter if you want some” were the only words out of his mouth until Reaper went down the sidesteps to the basement.

  “That brother has major problems,” Hennessy ground out in aggravation.

  “No shit,” Jack agreed, lowering his own voice in case they could be heard downstairs. “None of the new recruits picked him to get in the club. I’d rather join the girl scouts than fight that brother.”

  “Wimps.” Moon grabbed a bag of chips off the counter and went to sit at the table. Putting his feet on another chair, he started munching down.

  “You’d pick him if you had to do it again?” Jack asked.

  “Fuck no. But I wouldn’t talk about it in front of the other brothers.”

  “Who did you fight when you joined?” Hennessy didn’t know why he was curious as to which brothers Moon chose, but he was.

  “Knox, Razor, Lucky, and Shade.”

  “Why didn’t you pick Viper?”

  Hennessy could tell that Jack was second-guessing his decision about who he had chosen.

  “Because I wanted to get in.”

  “Fuck.”

  Hennessy felt a rush of sympathy. It was obvious Jack wanted in the club.

  “I get off early tomorrow. If you want, I can work with you for a couple of hours,” Hennessy offered.

  “I’d take him up on that offer,” Moon advised. “You’re going to need all the help you can get. Viper doesn’t stop fighting until he wants to. He likes to get someone to time him to see how long a fight lasts. He’s trying to beat his record. No one has outlasted him.”

  “I should have picked Cash or Reaper.”

  “Cash would have been the better choice, but he wears his brass knuckles, and they fucking hurt. And if you had picked Reaper, you wouldn’t haven’t gotten in anyway. You’d be dead.”

  Tossing a sponge into the sink, he was about to go upstairs to ask Arin if she needed her back washed when Viper came in carrying an easily recognizable suit.

  Viper laid the red velvet suit on the table. “Which one of you wants to play Santa tonight?”

  “Fuck no.” Moon took off with his chips.

  Viper looked at him.

  “Hell no. You want to give a bunch of kids nightmares?”

  Viper could be just as intimidating as his brother when he wasn’t in a good mood. “Shove a fucking pillow in your suit.”

  “That’s not what I meant—”

  Hennessy shut his mouth.

  Using his elbow, he nudged Jack in the ribs. “You want my help? Play Santa,” he muttered.

  “I’d rather lose. I hate kids,” he muttered back. “Sorry, Viper, I switched guard duty with Nickel. He wanted to finish his Christmas shopping.”

  “I guess it’s you, then, Hennessy.”

  “No.” Hennessy crossed his arms over his chest. “Ask Reaper.”

  Viper crossed his arms over his chest, too, just as stubbornly. “You go ask him.”

  Yeah, that wasn’t happening.

  “No.” Hell would freeze over before he put on that fucking suit. He had an image to maintain. The brothers would give him hell down the road if he put on that fucking suit.

  “I’ll take one of the coals out of your stocking.”

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  Fuck!

  “Give me the fucking suit.”

  Hennessy stared at himself in the mirror. He was never going to live this down. His badass image was going in the crapper. Sitting down on the bed to put on the vinyl boots was just adding insult to injury.

  Reaching for the green sweatshirt that had been on his pillow when he had come in his room, he raised it to his nose, hoping to catch the lingering scent of who had put it there.

  “Bad Elf,” Hennessy read aloud. I’m going to show her a fucking bad elf if Arin is my Santa, he thought to himself.

  At a knock on his door, he stood. “Go away.”

  “Quit sulking. They’re ready for you.”

  Arin’s voice on the other side of the door made it even worse.

  Instead of opening the door, he went to the window. It was a big drop, but if he was careful and hung off the windowsill, he might not break a leg.

  “Don’t even think about it.”

  Caught, he turned around. “I didn’t say come in … You’re wearing that downstairs?”

  His curvy cutie looked sexy as fuck as she twirled, making her green skirt flare out.

  “Of course. I’m dressed the same way as Jewell, Stori, and Jet. We’re Santa’s elves.”

  Going to the bed, he picked up the sweatshirt to give it to her. “Put that on,” he demanded.

  Arin laughed, tossing it onto the bed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “I’m not being ridiculous. Are there any little boys down there?”

  “Of cou
rse.”

  “Then put on the fucking sweatshirt.”

  “Why are you complaining? It’s not lowcut, and the skirt isn’t too short.”

  He was fighting a losing battle. “Just don’t bend over.”

  Arin shook her head at him, handing him the beard that was on his dresser. “You’re spoiling my image of Santa. He’s supposed to be jolly.”

  “I’m not feeling jolly. That dress is making me horny, and I won’t be the only one.”

  Arin helped him put on his beard. “I’m supposed to be the naughty Santa, not you. Behave. The kids are adorable. Try to have some fun,” she admonished him.

  “Lock the door, and I’ll show you how this Santa likes to have fun.”

  Ignoring him, she opened the door and waved him through. “That would be against the rules … unless I’m your Santa. Are you asking?” she taunted as they walked down the hallway.

  Even though he was down to one in his coal, he didn’t want to add one back if he guessed wrong. He wanted to be over 80 percent sure before he guessed. He had been over 90 percent until he saw Ember walking down the hallway when he had come upstairs earlier and had found the sweatshirt.

  As he headed down the stairs, his mouth dropped open when the room below erupted in joyous shouts.

  “Santa! Santa! Santa!” childish voices screamed up at him.

  “I thought there was only going to be the brothers’ kids.”

  “What made you think that? They’re here, but so are the factory workers and their children. Willa and Lucky also invited the children from their church,” she explained.

  “How many children are there?”

  “At least forty, the last time I counted.”

  It was going to be a long fucking night.

  “Do me a favor?” he said, going to the chair that the other two elves were waiting beside.

  “Sure. What do you need?”

  “Ask Moon if I can borrow his new flask and fill it for me.”

  “No.” Arin pushed him down into the chair, motioning for a brown-eyed, little girl with black hair who couldn’t be older than three to climb onto his lap.

  Starstruck, the enchanting child stuck her thumb in her mouth.

  “Ask her what she wants for Christmas,” Arin prompted. “And don’t forget to be jolly.”

  Chapter 14

  Arin set down a cup of hot chocolate as she glanced out the window. Then she moved over to the closet, taking out two coats. Siding hers on then carrying the other one and the hot chocolate, she stepped outside. Giving Jewell her coat, Arin waited until she had put it on before handing her the cocoa.

  Staring below, Arin smiled. The Last Riders were giving the children rides on their motorcycles.

  “Thank you for inviting me. I’ve enjoyed myself.” Leaning against the porch pillar, Arin shoved her hands into her pockets, looking for her gloves.

  “You’re welcome.” Jewell didn’t move her eyes away from the parking lot.

  Sad for her, Arin moved behind Jewell to wrap her arms around her and rest her chin on the woman’s shoulder. “Even if I won the bet, you were never going to leave The Last Riders, were you?”

  “No,” she admitted softly.

  “Jewell …”

  “Don’t tell me what I’ve already told myself a million times. I love him, Arin. I love him. I always will.”

  Arin felt a tear slip out of the corner of her eye at the pain she heard in her best friend’s voice.

  “Does he know?”

  “No, and he never will. It wouldn’t make a difference anyway. If anything was going to happen between us, it would have happened long before now.”

  “I’m sorry.” Arin held her tighter. “If I can ever do anything to help, I will.”

  “Just you being here helps. I’ve missed you.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Has Hennessy figured out you’re his Santa yet.”

  “No.” Her chin shook on Jewell’s shoulder in laughter. “I think he’s getting close, though.”

  Jewell sighed. “Moon said that he didn’t know he was supposed to search for his presents.”

  “He’s definitely not in the Christmas spirit, but I’ve been warming him up to the idea.”

  “It would take a blowtorch to get through Hennessy.”

  “I prefer my Hennessy hot anyway.”

  Jewell laughed, sipping her cocoa. “You’re a nut. I can’t wait until Hennessy figures that out more than him finding out you’re his Santa.”

  “I’ve been behaving, but tonight, I think I’m going to give him a little clue.”

  “About you being his Santa or being a nut?”

  “Both.”

  Arin organized steaming hot drinks for The Last Riders for when they returned from giving the children rides.

  Moon sighed appreciatively. “I need another one of these.”

  “What’s in it?”

  “A little of this. A little of that.” Refilling Jack’s cup, Arin moved to Moon.

  “And a fucking lot of rum,” Hennessy said, putting his cup down to start taking off the Santa suit.

  “You can’t take it off; the night’s not over,” Ember stopped him.

  Hennessy frowned, scratching his face where the beard had been. “I thought all the kids left?”

  “They have, but now it’s our turn.” Pushing him down, Ember sat on his lap and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “Santa, I’ve been a very, very good girl this year. I really want a brand new Saint Laurent purse.” From between her breasts, Ember took out a piece of paper and gave it to Hennessy.

  Arin wished her phone was out to take a picture of Hennessy’s face. Jewell had warned her about what was about to happen, so she had prepared herself. The only thing that had her from having a bitch-fit was, deep down, she knew she had nothing to be jealous of. Hennessy wasn’t hers yet. Besides, if one of the women did get touchy-feely, she would do what he did when he took care of a problem—throw the bitch off the porch.

  Hennessy’s hands went to Ember’s waist as if he was about to dump her off him until Moon stopped him.

  “If you think she’s been a good girl, you keep the picture, and she gets the gift for Christmas. If you think she’s been a bad girl, she gets a lump of coal in her stocking. The women also get the chance to change your mind while she’s on your lap.”

  As Hennessy took the picture from Ember, Story jumped on next.

  “Santa, I’ve not been as good as Ember, but I tried”—Stori wiggled on Hennessy’s lap—“hard.”

  Clearing his throat, Hennessy practically ripped Stori’s picture from her hand. ”You’ve been a good girl.”

  “Don’t you want to know what I want?” Stori teased, wiggling on his lap again.

  “No. Next!”

  Disappointed, Stori let Jewell get on his lap.

  “Santa—”

  “Moon, give her a lump of coal.”

  “But … I get to change your mind!” Jewell protested.

  “Save your breath. There’s nothing that’s going to chan—”

  Arin sucked a deep breath in through her teeth at Hennessy’s pained expression.

  Jewell’s hand had disappeared under the suit jacket, and, from his agonized expression, Arin had a feeling that Jewell was twisting his nipple. She fought dirty when she wanted to.

  “Give me the fucking picture.”

  “Thank you, Santa.”

  Gloating, Jewell got off to let Jet take her place.

  Arin refilled the cups and started tidying up the club to bide time to make herself last.

  When it was her turn, most of the men had started playing pool, while the women sat around on the couch to finish the last of their drinks.

  Arin saw the wary look through Hennessy’s beard when she finally took her turn.

  Wiggling her bottom to see if her suspicions were correct, she was bewildered when she didn’t feel what she had expected to feel under her bottom. She had thought he would have had a massive h
ard-on after letting all those gorgeous women plaster themselves against him.

  He wasn’t.

  “Aren’t you going to tell me if you were a good girl this year?”

  Arin almost deserted her plan. It was becoming derailed because of Hennessy’s lack of response to the other women. She had wanted him to ask if she was his Santa so they could spend the rest of her vacation the way she wanted—her in his bed. The problem was that the jerk wouldn’t ask. He wanted to wait until he was sure.

  For the badass biker he pretended to be, he was as an old man driving a speedway at forty miles hour. She would be packing her suitcase in her rental car before the idiot figured out she was a sure thing.

  Realizing she was being just as cautious, she put her past with Marcus behind her and took the steering wheel.

  “Santa”—Arin ran her hand down Hennessy’s waist, slipping under his jacket to grip the buckle of his overly large pants, rubbing the back of her knuckles just above his crotch—“I’ve been a very, very bad girl. What are you going to do about it?”

  Chapter 15

  Hennessy gripped the arms of the chair, feeling sweat break out under his hat, aware the women on the couch were watching, despite pretending not to.

  “Depends on what you consider bad.” Trying to sound stern and failing miserably, he tried to keep his eye above her tits.

  Jesus … Jesus … Sweet baby Jesus.

  Resting her head on his shoulder, she delved farther under his suit.

  His head fell back on the chair, and he started praying when she wiggled on his lap.

  “I gave a blowjob to a complete stranger. I’ve never done that before.”

  “You haven’t?” he managed to croak out.

  “No, and not only that, I want to do it again. I like being bad.”

  “I like when you’re bad, too. Let’s go upstairs, and you can be bad all night long. I’ll even help.”

  “Don’t you want to find out what I want for Christmas?”

  The seductive voice in his ear was like fifty-thousand amps of electricity running through his body at the impact of a lightning strike.

  “I don’t know what you want, but I know what you’re going to get if you don’t stop.”