A Hotwife's Christmas Roast (With All The Trimmings): A Hotwife Short Story by Paul Garland

A Hotwife's Christmas Roast (With All The Trimmings): A Hotwife Short Story by Paul Garland

Author:Paul Garland [Garland, Paul]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Cerulean Erotica
Published: 2022-12-02T00:00:00+00:00


5

Claire

The two men standing next to me were possibly the two most handsome men I’d ever seen in my entire life and they were both flirting outrageously with me. Not only that, but my husband seemed to be absolutely fine with it. If anything, he was encouraging me to flirt back.

And now they wanted a kiss beneath the mistletoe.

“They cooked and served us a wonderful dinner,” Luke said, reaching over and placing his hand over mine where it rested next to my empty wine glass. “The least you can do is give them a kiss.”

I stared at him. What game was he playing? Why was he doing this?

I filled my glass with the rich red burgundy that we’d been given with our dinner and took a long drink from it.

“Fine,” I said, glancing up at the green sprig of mistletoe that Matteo was still holding up, hopeful for a kiss. “Only one kiss though.”

Pietro leaned in first and I offered him my cheek but cheekily he altered the angle of his approach and his lips found mine, lingering there for the briefest of moments but long enough to make me feel a flutter of excitement in my stomach.

“That was cheeky,” I admonished him but he only shrugged and grinned at me cockily.

“My turn.” Matteo was so tall that it made my neck hurt to look up at him. “Perhaps you should stand, Signora.”

I sighed and stood up. My knees felt wobbly. What was wrong with me? Was it the wine?

“One kiss,” I repeated and again offered him my cheek.

“Pietro got to kiss you on the mouth,” the impossibly tall chef shook his head. “I only get the cheek? I need a proper kiss, Claire.”

For some reason, Matteo using my name made something loosen inside, almost like a nut being unscrewed, causing something to break and fall apart. In this case, it was my resolve. I looked up at his handsome face. God, he was handsome. His light blue eyes wrinkled at the edges as he smiled, and then he bent his neck forward and kissed me.

His lips pressed firmly against mine and the hands that he wrapped around my lower back kept me there, making the kiss linger even longer than Pietro’s. His body was touching mine. I could feel the heat of his body through the Chenille top I was wearing.

When he finally released me, I sank to my chair quickly, trying to regain my composure and looked at Luke as coolly as I could. “Now, I’d like to kiss my husband.”

He leaned across the table and gave me the lightest kiss he could have possibly managed.

“What was that?” I asked, suddenly feeling silly in front of the two Italian hunks standing watching. “That’s not a proper kiss.”

“Haven’t you had enough proper kisses already?” he teased.

“No,” I replied and feeling determined to show these Italians that I was a faithful, happily married woman, I got up and walked around the table to sit on a surprised Luke’s knee. “Now give me a real kiss.



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