How do you feel about time travel? I hope you’re okay with it, because the
story I’m talking about today is called The Gift and was my first ever
story that was published way back in December 2008!
I love Christmas, and I have to admit that love this book. I can’t say
it’s been a huge success, but I love it anyway. It’s one that makes my cry
every time I re-read it. Nicky is such a sweetheart and even though I
*know* everything will work out in the end (hell I wrote the ending, so I
should know!), there’s one bit where Nicky doesn’t think it will, and it
gets me every time.
Here’s the blurb:
Just because Charles doesn’t see any point in making a fuss about
Christmas, that doesn’t mean he can’t tolerate Nicky’s passion for tinsel
and holly. He’s never forbidden his pet from enjoying any of his Christmas
traditions and he thinks that’s enough.
Nicky has one ambition – to give his master a perfect Christmas. He’s
willing to do anything to make that happen – even if it means taking risks
and asking his master for special privileges – even if that means inviting
a third man into their bed.
The Spirit of Christmas Past isn’t used to visiting Christmases that
involve quite so much nudity, passion or kinky sex. Leading a dominant man
like Charles through the Christmases isn’t easy – and keeping his eyes off
the frequently naked Nicky is impossible. Still, all the spirit can do is
enjoy the show – because his job is to bring lovers together and fade away
inconspicuously. That’s the plan. However, if someone suddenly wants to
thank him, who is he to say no?
(Heads up – there’s a (all male) menage scene in this one.)
The buy links:
You can buy The Gift from:
Totally Bound – https://www.totallybound.com/the-gift
All Romance E-books – https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-thegift-14042-147.html
Flickering firelight lent an enchanting glow to Nicky’s naked body.
Charles Wilson stroked his lover’s hair, pushing the thick blond strands
back out of his eyes. Nicky swirled his tongue around the tip of Charles’s
cock, taking a little more of the hard shaft into his mouth each time he
bobbed his head a fraction lower.
A touch to Nicky’s cheek immediately brought his gaze up. Charles studied
the sleepy pleasure in his pet’s eyes. He always liked to see him happy,
especially now – when it somehow seemed to be a rarer sight than it had
been in previous years.
He smiled down at his pet. “That’s right, Nicky… exactly like that.
Perfect.” The words were hoarse with arousal, forced through a throat that
barely relaxed enough to let him breathe let alone speak properly, but his
pet thrived on praise and Charles wouldn’t deny him what he craved so
The fire crackled in the hearth. A shower of sparks raced up the chimney.
Warmth glowed over Nicky’s body. Only the black leather collar around his
neck hid a small strip of skin from his master’s appreciation.
Charles shifted his posture, sinking more comfortably into the high backed
chair by the fireplace. Nicky began to work him in earnest, dipping his
head low in his master’s lap and taking the topmost part of his shaft into
With a hand settled snugly on the back of his head, Charles let his pet do
what he wished. In the five years they’d been together, he’d learnt
exactly what would please his master best. He needed no further
instruction on the matter.
Moments later, Charles’s grip on his pet’s hair tightened a fraction.
Nicky looked up and held his gaze as his master spilled into his mouth. He
swallowed him down with every sign of enjoyment of the salty taste,
murmuring around his shaft until he was finished. Only then let did Nicky
let his master’s cock slip delicately from between his lips.
Tidying Charles away and doing up his fly, Nicky didn’t rush away from his
place at his feet. He rested his head in his master’s lap. Charles went
back to stroking his hair, winding his fingers through the long strands.
The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed half past ten. “You’d best go
up now if you want to finish off your traditions,” Charles said.
Nicky looked up at him and hesitated. While he seemed reluctant to leave
his master’s side, Charles was under no illusions. His pet would go—he
never failed to carry out every one of his Christmas traditions right down
to the final detail. There was no reason why that should change this year.
Eventually, the younger man nodded and stood up. He really was incredibly
beautiful, all lean muscle and fair skin. Charles let his eyes travel over
his body. He never got tired of looking at his pet.
“It won’t take long,” Nicky said softly, as if he needed to apologise—as
if his master wasn’t used to all of his traditions by now.
Charles merely nodded.
Nicky glanced at the fireplace. “Shall I?”
Charles shook his head. “I’ll see to it.”
“Yes, master.” His pet nodded his understanding, but Charles wasn’t taken
in by the submission in his response.
Nicky would far rather complete the task himself. In spite of viewing a
great deal of evidence to the contrary over the last few years, he was
still quietly convinced his master was incapable of completing any task he
saw as a submissive’s responsibility. Nevertheless, he left the room
without actually voicing a protest to Charles damping down the fire
As the door closed behind Nicky, Charles dropped his head back against the
high chair back and stared up at the brightly coloured decorations
festooning the ceiling. His pet had outdone himself this year. Everything
that didn’t run away fast enough was wrapped in tinsel and sparkles.
He closed his eyes against the garish display of Christmas cheer.
Although he’d never been present for his pet’s final Christmas Eve
tradition—the packing of the last present right before he went to
bed—Charles could well imagine him kneeling on the floor in their bedroom,
biting his bottom lip, concentrating on getting the brightly coloured
paper just right. It was a far better sight to rest his eyes upon than
yard upon yard of garlands criss-crossing the ceiling.
Charles didn’t recognise the voice, but he knew it wasn’t Nicky. It was
all he needed to know. No one else had a place in their house on Christmas
Eve. Charles snapped his eyes open. He sat up straight in his chair, all
sign of sleepy contentment vanishing.
A tall, well built young man stood in front of the fire. A short, white
toga barely scraped the top of his thighs. The material fluttered as the
heat from the fire swirled the air currents. Charles glanced across to the
door. It was still closed. He should have heard anyone come in.
The man looked around the room.
Charles launched himself to his feet. “Who the hell are you?”
“You are Charles Wilson?” the stranger asked again. His voice betrayed
Charles automatically weighed himself up against the potential threat. The
man was shorter than him and more lightly muscled. If he wasn’t armed,
Charles was confident he’d end up on top.
The same fact seemed to register with the man facing him across the hearth
rug. He looked nervous now—or the sudden sight of Nicky’s excessive
Christmas cheer had thrown him off balance. Charles felt anyone walking
unexpectedly into the Santa’s grotto of their living room was entitled to
lose their bearings for a few moments.
“Who are you, and what you are doing in my house?” Charles demanded. He
strained his hearing. Was there anyone else in the house? If there was,
were they aware of Nicky’s presence upstairs?
The man looked around him again. “I am the Spirit of Christmas Past,” he
said slowly, taking in each bit of holly and mistletoe adorning the
The tension drained out of Charles. He sat on the arm of the chair and
looked the “spirit” over from a different perspective. He was quite cute,
with light brown curls trailing over his ears and his ridiculous toga
barely covering a fantastic physique.
One thing Charles would say about Nicky and his Christmas obsession, it
did make for a very interesting December sex life.
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