A Sweet & Merry Christmas Read online

  A Sweet & Merry Christmas

  Rebel Wayfarers MC

  MariaLisa deMora

  Copyright © 2014 MariaLisa deMora

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination, or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental.

  First Published 2014

  DEDICATION

  To all the Jessica and Brandy’s I know and love. I hope you find your happy, in whatever flavor that happens to be.

  Contents

  A Merry & Sweet Christmas 3

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thank you to the readers who kept asking about Jess and Brandy, wanting to know more about the dynamics of their relationship and how they met. See what happens when you tell me you want something? Muuuwah, love alla you guys.

  ~ML

  A Sweet & Merry Christmas

  “You’re just in time! Pull up a stool, help me ice these last ones,” Brandy Still called across the bakery, lifting her head to smile at the petite woman who’d just walked in the door from the outside. The bundled-up form raised a hand with a noncommittal grunt, and began the process of divesting herself of the seasonal wear necessary to survive a Chicago winter.

  Gloves first, revealing slim, white fingers, then the scarf was carefully unwrapped from a slender column of throat, and Brandy caught her breath. She loved watching Jessica Nalan do nearly anything, but seeing her undressing, even if it was just the outer layer of clothing she wore, made desire clench deep in her belly.

  Next was the patchwork toque, tugged roughly off leaving the short, pixie cut standing on end, her small fingers threading through her blonde hair and bringing it back to some semblance of order. Brandy stood, still watching as those same fingers deftly maneuvered the zipper of the coat down past breasts and belly, the edges of the coat falling open to be shoved aside when Jess removed the garment entirely, draping it over a nearby chair.

  “Let me wash my hands. I’ll be right back to help,” Jess said, and Brandy tilted her head questioningly. “You told me to help you ice cupcakes, dork. Did you forget already?”

  Laughing, Brandy turned back to the tray of individual cakes on the counter. “Yeah, right. I guess I just didn’t think you’d take me serious.” Shit, she thought, I need to watch myself. I can’t get lost watching her like that, or she’s going to figure things out.

  Piping buttercream icing on top of the cupcakes, she was creating small cream-colored Christmas trees, wreaths, reindeer, and candy canes, one after the other. She hadn’t heard the swinging door that lead to the rear of the shop, but Jess had probably headed back already. If she wasn’t just putting her coat back on after seeing Brandy drooling over her.

  She let out a surprised “Eeep” when she felt cold hands push under her shirt and place themselves palm-first against the small of her back. Twisting away, she scolded Jess, “Your hands are cold!”

  “And you are warm,” she heard, but suddenly couldn’t concentrate on the words or the voice because those hands had slipped to her sides, cupping around her ribs and tugging her backwards slightly, holding her in place. Her breath caught in her throat, if Jess knew what this did to her, she’d move away, take the warmth of her hands from her skin, the heat of her body from Brandy’s back.

  She’d first noticed Jess on the campus of the college they both attended, but the woman had stuck close to her roommate, Mica Scott, and Brandy had never been certain if they were a couple or not. It wasn’t until they’d graduated and all moved to Chicago that they’d become friends, and she decided Mica wasn’t Jess’ lover, glad she’d kept her questions to herself. She was sure Jess still didn’t know her sexual preferences, and Brandy was happy to keep a lid on it in order to stay friends with her.

  She’d seen firsthand the cruel wedge that could be driven into a friendship when she admitted being interested in women…even when she hadn’t been attracted to that friend. She could just imagine the Grand Canyon-sized gulf that would be created if she confessed her desires to Jess, who she’d lusted after for a long time. So, she would just continue to hunger from a distance, trying to hide her longing.

  But those hands…those damn hands were still curled around her sides, slipping down to her waist and then back up, it nearly felt like a caress. Brandy closed her eyes, concentrating on the feel of Jess’ now-warm hands on her, fingers pressing into her skin, trailing up and down her ribs, the tie of her apron no deterrent to the touch. Soft, fingertips questing along the top of her jeans, tracing the edge of the waistband around to the snap closure.

  The small woman was a furnace behind her; Brandy could feel her breasts pressed against her back. Hardly daring to breathe, she felt a kiss on her spine at the same time those fingertips tugged at the snap, loosening it before delving underneath. “Jess,” she whispered, not sure what else to say, desperate to not derail this moment she’d wanted for so long.

  One hand drifted up her side, and she felt the barest brush of fingertips across the side of her breast, a slight graze across her nipple which pebbled and hardened under the attention. Gently tracing along the upper curve of her mound, Jess hooked one finger under the lace, tugging the fabric down, allowing her breast to spill over the top of the cup and into her warm palm. Exposed to her bare touch, Brandy felt a drawing sensation in her breast, the tug reaching down from her hard nipple through her body to her clit, throbbing in time with her fast-beating heart.

  Another kiss on her spine and the woman’s second hand flattened against her belly before sliding downward into her pants. Slipping into the front of her panties, Jess’ fingers pressed into her, and she heard a small gasp behind her when they first touched her slippery wetness, evidence of her arousal. She felt the delicate rasp of a fingernail dragged across her clit once…twice, before the hand pushed further, pressing what felt like two fingers deep inside her.

  Involuntarily her hips thrust forward, her back arching, shoulders pressing back against the woman plastered against her. Wordlessly Jess worked her, tugging and pinching on her nipple in a rhythm sympathetic to the movements against and inside her pussy, bringing her closer…drawing her upward, relentlessly dragging her into the deep waves before pushing her over the top, holding her tightly as she quivered in her arms.

  Dropping her head forward, she looked down to see…the expanse of her icing-dotted apron, fabric moving slightly with her gasping breaths. She felt suddenly bereft, thinking, I won’t even have the memory of what her fingers looked like against my skin. One of her hands was still holding the sleeve of icing and she saw the thick mixture pressing against the tip of the bag as her hand tightened around it, her other hand gripping the edge of the cabinet tightly.

  Maybe she doesn’t know what to say, she thought, even as she felt Jess’ fingers righting her clothing, pulling the cup of her bra back over the nipple and breast, the other hand tugging her zipper up and fastening the snap on her jeans.

  Say something, she heard the quiet plea and realized Jess must be even more frightened than she was. Brandy, please…

  Taking a deep breath, she laid down the pastry bag and turned, not caring that she had sugar coating her hands she began to reach out and then halted abruptly, seeing Jess still across the room, just now laying her coat across the back of the chair. Closing her eyes in despair, she realized she’d imagined the entire encounter. Nothing had happened…nothing could happen.

  Swallowing hard, sh
e forced a smile onto her face, “Slowpoke, get a move on it. Wash those nasty” delicious “fingers and get back out here” back inside me “and help me finish this order for Mason.”

  Jess grinned, “Since when does Mason order cupcakes?” Mason was the president of a Chicago-based motorcycle club that Mica had moved in next to earlier this year. He’d developed a fondness for Mica, and Brandy had grown to like and respect the man when she saw how gently he treated both of her friends, behaving as if Jess and Mica were more like little sisters than attractive, unattached young women.

  “Since he’s having a party at Jackson’s, I guess,” Brandy turned back to the counter and took a deep breath. She’d had fantasies about Jess before but never like that, at work and standing upright…and never with the woman in the room. Calling loudly, she asked, “Bring one of the trays with you when you come back?”

  “You got it,” she heard a yell from the back room, and then the door swung outward, and Jess came through, balancing two trays. “Two is better than one, right?” she asked, laughing.

  “Yeah, thanks.” She reached up to grab the box of edible decorations, sliding it across the countertop to Jess. “Sprinkles are in here, lots of colors. There are some other things like cinnamon bits for reindeer noses, candy for ornaments. Go crazy, woman. Make the cupcakes beautiful.”

  Jess grinned up at her; a smile lifting the corners of her eyes and turning the lovely woman into a spectacularly beautiful one and Brandy watched mesmerized as Jess licked across her bottom lip. “Am I allowed to taste-test?”

  God, yes. Please. “You bet, go for it. Just don’t make yourself sick. Folks are bringing sandwiches and snacks to the party, so there will be real food there tonight in addition to the cakes we’re taking.” Brandy massaged the pastry bag of icing briefly, trying unsuccessfully to not think about doing the same to Jess’ ass, and then got started icing the rest of the cupcakes.

  They worked side-by-side for a couple hours, mostly in companionable silence, only broken by brief questions about the flavors, or when they paused to laugh at a cupcake Jess destroyed. That had been another moment when Brandy’s breath caught in her throat, because Jess broke the cake apart, and fed one half to Brandy piece by piece, her gamine features grinning up at Brandy the entire time, her fingers occasionally trailing across Brandy’s lips in an unconscious tease.

  When the chore was done, Brandy leaned back against the counter, looking at the stacks of boxes filled with iced and decorated cupcakes, ready to be packed in her car for the trip across town to Jackson’s, the bar Mason owned. Brandy groaned inwardly when she looked at Jess, who was studiously licking her fingers clean of icing. The woman was going to kill her. She mused, Is it possible to die from desire?

  Loading up the sweet treats, she casually suggested Jess ride with her, and before she knew it, they were locked in her van barreling up the road with Jess controlling the music. Laughing as they pulled into the parking lot at the bar, they were both singing to silly, seasonal tunes and she glanced over as she parked, catching a look she couldn’t quite define on Jess’ face. Their gaze locked for a second, then Brandy forced hers away, bending her head to avoid looking at Jess again while they gathered up their gloves and scarves, preparing to exit the vehicle.

  At the back of the van, she was still struggling with her gloves when she heard Jess say from right beside her, “Hold still.” Freezing in place, she felt fingers dipping alongside her neck, under her scarf, then tugging it up and over her mouth and nose, the cloth of gloves grazing her skin as the fingers retreated. Forcing her lungs to work again, she muttered, “Thanks,” and opened the doors of the van.

  Before she could lift out the first stack of boxes, she heard movement from behind them and swung to see a group of men walking their way. She stilled because she didn’t recognize any of them, and the man in the lead barked out a humorless laugh. “Do you know where you are, pretty lady? Lady as good-looking as you should be more careful where you show up.” The men walking with him laughed mockingly, spreading out to the sides, sweeping towards her and Jess like the outstretched wings of a bird, herding them back towards the open van.

  One of the men had gotten close enough to reach out a hand, tugging Jess’ toque off her head and tossing it to the side. Brandy moved without thinking, putting herself between the small woman and the large, intimidating man. “Don’t touch her,” she hissed between tightly clenched teeth, leaning towards him as she shoved Jess backward, away from the man.

  One of the other men made a crude comment, and she felt a tugging at her arm. Reaching back her hand, she felt small fingers thread between hers and she squeezed reassuringly. Speaking to the leader, she said, “We’re here by invitation, asshole. And yes, I know where I am.”

  There was a shout from across the parking lot and the men in front of her and Jess parted like batter before a knife, revealing a set of faces she did know, and was damned glad to see right now. “Slate,” she called, squeezing Jess’ hand again, not letting go.

  “Brandy,” he responded with a scowl on his handsome face, she could see his forehead wrinkling from a dozen paces away and she relaxed a tiny bit. He’ll take care of us, she thought. “Fucktards, what the hell do you think you are doing?” That was directed to the men now edging further away from her van.

  “Slate, man. We didn’t know they were Rebel pussy. Respect, man.” The leader spoke the words, but his leer left no doubt that he’d have rather not been interrupted.

  “I believe the term you are looking for is a friend of the Rebel club, dildo.” That was from one of the men with Slate, a man named Roach that she knew Mica was fond of.

  “No shit?” the man said, rocking back on his heels. “Two pussies as Rebel ‘friends’? Well ain’t that just an interesting state of affairs.” He sneered at Roach and looked up at another of the Rebels. “Tugboat, does Mason know you got little ‘friends’ like this?”

  “What the fuck is your problem, dickhead?” The statement came from Tug, an older man with striking features, his white hair swept back from his head with a bandanna, dark mustache framing a mouth now drawn down in displeasure. “Dominos want a shitstorm? You’re fucking standing on Rebel ground. I’m telling you one time, you want a shitstorm then you keep going the way you’re going, man and you will fucking get it.” He asked again, “What is your fucking problem?”

  “No problem, Tugboat. We were just making sure the ladies were certain of their welcome. No disrespect, man.” That was the man who’d thrown Jess’ hat on the ground, he bent over now and retrieved it, holding it out towards her. Brandy intercepted, grabbing it from his hand, angered to see him touching any part of Jess, even something as innocent as her hat. She ground her teeth and her hand tightened around it, crushing it in her fist.

  “Then if there’s no problem, you won’t mind moving on,” Slate said, folding his arms across his chest, stepping between the women and the men. Without looking away from the leader, he addressed Tug, “You got this, brother?”

  “Fuck yeah, I got this,” was the response and Slate turned his back on the two groups, moving to face Brandy and Jess. His voice softened when he spoke to them, “Y’all bring dessert, Brandy?” He sniffed and made a show of rolling his eyes. “Goddamn that van smells good. How the hell both of you are so fucking tiny is beyond me. If I had to work around this good smellin’ shit all day, I’d weigh a ton.”

  Brandy laughed, “And you’d still be good lookin’.”

  He reached out and cupped a hand behind Brandy’s neck, pulling her close for a hug. “Brown Sugar Brandy, you okay, babe?” he whispered into her ear and she nodded, saying softly, “Yeah.”

  He stepped back and looked down at their hands, smiling at their fingers still twined together. “Jess, you okay, honey?”

  Brandy turned around in time to see a bright blush working its way up Jess’ face, coloring her cheeks and then the tips of her ears. “Yeah,” she said. “I’m okay.” She pulled at Brandy’s hand and without
letting go, brought Brandy toward her. “Can I have my hat back, Brand?”

  She brought the toque up and pressed it into the hand she was still holding, then freed Jess, smiling privately when the hold appeared reluctantly released. “Here you go.” Turning to look behind Slate, she realized the other group of men had disappeared and the Rebels were already walking back towards them. “I have quite a few boxes to take inside for the party. Do you think you guys could help out?”

  Slate nodded and whistled, drawing the attention of the Rebels. “Tote and carry, boys. Let’s get these ladies inside and out of the cold.” He nodded an apparent question at Tug who was wiping his hand with a bandana, and received a brusque nod in return. Smiling grimly, he moved to reach into the van, pulling out the first stack of boxes. “We got this, Brandy. Why don’t you and Jess go on inside? Merry is already in there getting everything set up.” Merry was a long-time waitress and bartender at Jackson’s, and a friend to both of the women.

  Inside the bar, everyone pitched in, setting up tables and generally getting ready for a big, informal party. The irony of the set-up wasn’t lost on Brandy and she snorted a laugh that Jess heard, causing her to tilt her head and ask, “What?”

  “If you’d told me two years ago that I’d be excitedly waiting to exchange secret Santa gifts with a bunch of bikers, I’d have checked you for a head injury.” She laughed, shaking her head. “This is pretty remarkable, though. It’s cool that Mason organized all of this, that he’d put together a party for the Rebels and us. I’ve never felt safer than when we’re hanging out with them, and they are all sweet, amazing guys.”

  “Glad to hear you think so, babe,” she heard a deep voice say from behind her and watched as Jess ran around her, squealing with happiness.