Today I am so pleased to welcome N.R. Walker to Joyfully Jay. N.R. has come to share an exclusive excerpt from her surprise release, A Very Henry Christmas. Please join me in giving her a big welcome!
“Anika, would you answer your damn phone?” I grumbled to the dial tone. My call went to voice mail and I scowled at my to-do list. I’d already left a message. Okay, two. So it might have been three. But it was Christmas Eve and I was hosting the dinner party of the year and had a thousand things to organise. It didn’t matter that it was seven-thirty in the morning. She could answer her damn phone when I called.
“Anika, the reason you’re not taking my calls right now better be because there’s been some terrible accident, or because Sean tied both your hands to the bedposts then bumped his head and is unconscious on the floor. I won’t accept any other reason. And I’m not forgiving you, even if for whatever reason the fire brigade are called and there is footage on the six o’clock news. Unless you’re both wearing roleplay outfits. I’ll forgive you then. Especially if it’s Princess Leia and Han Solo. Extra points if you’re Han.”
I disconnected the call and turned to find Reed behind me in the kitchen, smiling.
“Poor Anika,” he said.
“Poor Anika?” I shot back at him. “Poor Anika? What about me? Look at this kitchen.” I waved my hand at the kitchen counters, covered in ingredients and fresh veggies and fruit and fresh prawns and a whole barramundi. “I have sixteen dishes to prepare for dinner tonight. Sixteen, Reed. Do you know how many that is?”
He fought a smile. “Pretty sure it’s one more than fifteen.”
I glowered at him. “Don’t come into my kitchen all sleep-rumpled and gorgeous-smiling, trying to be cute and funny. This is our first Christmas together as engaged fiancés, it’s going to set the tone for us as a couple forever, and we’re having everyone over. It’s important and I have so much to cook and prepare and get ready! Reed, I don’t think you understand—”
He grinned and took my hand while I was mid-rant. He was either used to me by now, or didn’t understand just how important it was to have everything perfect.
Taking my hand, he guided it to his crotch and ran my palm over his dick. His rather hard dick. “You were gone when I woke up this morning.”
“Fish markets,” I said by way of explanation. Everyone knew you had to be at the markets early on Christmas Eve…
He hummed and wrapped his other huge hand around the back of my neck and pulled me in for a kiss. He tasted of toothpaste and sexual desire, and because I couldn’t help myself, I wrapped my fingers around his shaft and sucked his tongue into my mouth.
His groan was obscene.
I pulled back. “No, no. We don’t have time. What are you doing? Don’t you know how important this dinner is? It’s Christmas and everyone will be here, and I have so much to get organise—”
He took my face in his hands. It made my knees go weak and he knew it, the bastard. “Let me help you,” he whispered against my lips.
“This isn’t helping.”
He grinned like he knew it wasn’t, and this was his plan all along.
“Are you trying to sabotage me? Is there a ploy to ruin my culinary reputation? My cooking prowess—”
He crushed his mouth to mine, most likely to shut me up, and only pulled away when I’d lost all coherent thought. His eyes were that molten blue that usually told me we were going to the bedroom. He spoke against my lips. “No. I’m going to de-stress you. You’re wound tight and I can help with that.”
“We don’t have time,” I protested weakly. Because… well, because if he wanted to take me to bed and bury himself inside me, Christmas Eve dinner be damned. My arse ached with the thought of it. I wanted it.
“I’ll help you afterwards, in the kitchen, with whatever you need help with.” He kissed me soundly, making my insides curl deliciously. “Let me start with this.”
I nodded. Well, I thought I did. I might have whined like a cheap sex toy that needs a cock in it to shut it up. And then I had a thought. We don’t actually have to leave the kitchen.
I turned in his arms and pushed my arse against his hard-on, and, taking his hand, I walked us to the kitchen counter and leaned forward over it. He gripped my hips and ground his cock against the crack of my arse, making me moan. I stretched over, grabbed the bottle of virgin olive oil, then started to undo my cargo shorts.
“You sure you want this here?” he asked gruffly. We’d forgone condoms a long time ago, and the convenience—and the unbidden pleasure—was so, so much better.
“Fuck, yes.” I finally got my shorts undone and spread my legs… and had the distinct feeling someone was watching… No, not someone. Something. Then I spotted some beady little black eyes staring at me. “God, not in front of the barramundi.” The fish was laying on the sink, its eyes fixed on us, its mouth agape. “Judgemental bastard.”
Henry wants to share his and Reed’s first Christmas Eve being engaged by hosting dinner with their closest friends. Henry loves food and he loves to cook—he plans an entire menu and decorates the house to rival a department store, but even though everything’s perfect, something’s not quite right.
As Henry dreams of a merry Christmas, no matter what happens, you know it will be a very Henry Christmas.
N.R. Walker is an Australian author, who loves her genre of gay romance. She loves writing and spends far too much time doing it, but wouldn’t have it any other way.
She is many things: a mother, a wife, a sister, a writer. She has pretty, pretty boys who live in her head, who don’t let her sleep at night unless she gives them life with words.
She likes it when they do dirty, dirty things… but likes it even more when they fall in love.
She used to think having people in her head talking to her was weird, until one day she happened across other writers who told her it was normal.
She’s been writing ever since…