Ali Piedmont

People in this small town call me a lot of things: Principal Ethan Stone. Veteran Navy SEAL. A bad-ass you don't want to f*ck with.

They don't call me Sir.
Unless they're playing the part of my sub at The Castle, the exclusive sex club I own...but that's my other, secret life.

As a well-respected local principal, I never mix business with pleasure. Then she comes to work for me: Holly Sweet, my school's new librarian. She's curvy, sugary-sweet, and can't look at me without blushing as red as a candy-cane.

She's naturally submissive but too f*cking innocent.

There are a lot of things I'll do to a woman, but I won't corrupt a good girl. Not even when she begs me to fill in as Santa for the damned Winter Festival. Not even when she's a blushing so adorably in an elf costume three-sizes too small.

Not even when she accidentally tumbles right onto my lap and lands on Santa's big f*cking package.

One touch of that sweet, curvy bottom and I realize, I'm about to unwrap the only thing I want this Christmas.

Holly.

This novella is packed full of Christmas cheer, an over-the-top Alpha hero (yes, he's a school principal, veteran SEAL, and secret co-owner of an upscale sex club...why not, right?) and a curvy heroine who gives as good as she gets. It's as sweet as hot cocoa, and it'll make you wanna get creative with whipped cream.

Also included: one sexy Santa suit, vibrators named after a Breaking Bad character, a sprinkle of holiday magic and a big ol' naughty happily-ever-after.

Chapter 1: Ethan

“I need to speak with Principal Stone. We have an emergency.”

I grip my pen and bow my head when I hear Holly Sweet's voice outside my office. It's the last day of school before Clayville Elementary's winter break, and she's the last woman I want to speak with.

Holly Sweet, our school's new librarian. Miss Holly to the kids, Miss Sweet to me.

My beautiful, perfect, secret torment.

Those amber eyes, that long dark hair, that shy smile and that pretty fucking blush that spreads like wildfire up her cheeks and down her neck, whenever she has the balls to look at me.

Even her last name is fucking perfect, because she is sweet. Sweet to look at, with her luscious curves that she can't hide, no matter how many oversized sweaters and calf-length skirts she wears. Sweet to hear, when she teaches the kids, counsels one of them on the playground even though she didn't have to stand out in the fucking cold, or makes the other teachers laugh during breaks in the teacher's lounge.

And I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, she'd be sweet to fucking taste…everywhere.

But…she's my employee. She's ten years younger than me. And her innocence blazes like a thousand suns from her almond-shaped eyes. She's got you can look, but don't fucking touch written all over her.

Alice Lincoln, my seventy-five-years-young secretary—and the glue that holds this school together—knows Holly's grandmother. Over the summer Alice had shown up at my house with a fruitcake and a six-pack of beer and blithely informed me that her best friend's granddaughter had moved from New York back to our town—otherwise known as the middle of nowhere, Illinois—to help her grandmother.

Alice also informed me that I would hire Holly Sweet. I'd said I'd do no such thing. But Alice knows her shit; Holly had just completed her Master's in Library Sciences. She was giving up an esteemed internship in Washington, D.C., to move in with her grandmother. She'd received her undergrad degree in English with a minor in fucking childhood development and/or impressing local school boards.

She was the most qualified candidate for the positions.

And then I met her, and I knew I was screwed. And not in the way I wanted to be.

Because Holly's exactly—from her head of gorgeous brunette hair down to the tips of her adorable toes—my type. Not only because she’s brilliant and witty and kind and a totally fucking knockout. But because—I can’t even put it into words, but I feel it, sense it, just know it in my bones—she’s the perfect submissive.

She appears quietly confident at work.

But the little things give her away. The small way she shyly meets my eyes, then drops her gaze to the floor as soon as I look down on her. The way she jumps when I merely suggest she take a seat. The pink tinge that slowly colors her cheeks whenever we meet.

It doesn’t help that she’s got a small waist and ass for days.

Or full lips that…

She's my employee.

I don't shit where I eat. Sometimes I need to remind myself.

Though I had masturbated about eight-thousand times to the thought of making Miss Sweet's skin turn red all over, not from a blush, but from the flat of my hand—or other instruments of delicious pain that would probably make her run screaming from the room, or school, or entire fucking state.

Because my slight obsession with Holly Sweet was just one of my secrets.

"I—I need to speak to Principal Stone, Alice."

Holly's sweet, breathless voice can get me hard, instantly. But not today. I've got one more hour, then the kids—and the teachers, and Alice and I—are all free for two blissful weeks. And I'm getting out of town and going to visit my biggest secret.

The one that keeps money flowing into my bank account.

The one that keeps all my former-SEAL buddies busy.

The one that would get me fired if the school board found out.

And the one that would probably make Miss Holly Sweet run, screaming, from the state, or country, or entire fuckin' continent.

"He's in his office, darlin'. Go on in."

The door swings open slowly, and I see her peek her head around first, those light-brown eyes blinking.

"Principal Stone?" Holly sees me and smiles shyly. "I'm so sorry to bother you, but there's sort of an emergency."

“'Sort of an emergency?' I think there's either an emergency or there isn't, Miss Sweet." As usual, my voice comes out more gruff—and my tone more like an asshole—than I mean. I remind myself that it's not her fault I'm rapidly becoming obsessed with her. I can't take out my sexual frustrations on her.

Though I'd damn well like to.

Holly blushes, and I watch the trail of pink fire travel down her throat and into the slight V-neck of her sweater. Fuck me, what I'd give to see how far that blush goes.

"I'm sorry—you're right—I didn't mean—"

"Just tell me what you need, Miss Sweet." I keep my voice calm and low now. She smiles unsteadily, staring into my eyes a moment before she catches herself.

"Yes, right. Well, the thing is. I realized today, Principal Stone, that I need you."

I cough into my fist. Is this a Christmas miracle? “Excuse me?”

“I mean, we need you—to be Santa.”

My jaw hangs open for a second, before I rub my hand over my five o'clock shadow.

"Santa?" I finally spit out.

Holly, if possible, blushes even more. "I'm so sorry for the last-minute request. As you know, tomorrow is the community Winter Festival."

I nod. Of course. Our town's small enough that the school gym is used for everything from polling locations to Brownie meetings. Once a year, the town hosts a Winter Festival, and everyone—all 3,827 people in town—show up. Except me. Bah-fucking-humbug. I needed to get out of town and get my rocks off. I needed to forget about my luscious little employee.

I did not need to hang around and play Santa.

The Winter Festival features a North Pole playland, enough sweets to give every kid in the state a sugar high, and odes to Hanukkah, Kwanzaa and Christmas. Also, they give away turkey, stuffing and gifts to families in need. For some kids, it's the only way they'll get any presents.

But despite all of the above, I knew if Santa wasn't out there to listen to the kids dictate mile-long Christmas lists, those pint-sized minions would raise hell.

"Barney Robinson was going to be our Santa this year," Holly says. "He'd spent four months growing out his beard."

I try to keep a straight face. I try to keep from barking out, "And this involves me how?" I try to keep from throwing her onto my desk and ripping off her clothes.

"What happened to Barney?" I don't mean to growl, but Holly flinches slightly. Then she straightens her back and tilts her head up. I love the little fire in her.

I want to do things to her, make that spark burst into flame.

"He fell while shoveling his driveway," she says. "Broken arm. He can't hold the kids, and he's in so much pain."

I nod. "That's unfortunate. What about Mr. Bradley? Mr. Donovan? Mr. Cooper?” I name our two male teachers, plus the head janitor.

“Out-of-town, working the jump house, and Mr. Donovan tried on the Santa suit, but he’s allergic and couldn’t stop sneezing.”

"Miss Sweet, there have to be a few other options besides me."

Holly looks nervous for the first time. I consciously uncross my arms and try not to appear too intimidating. I sometimes forget that, at six-five, I'm huge to most people. I'm ten years older than her; yes, dammit, I did the math. And I still work out every day, up before the sun, just like my days in the service. I'm big, bad, and Alice tells me I scowl too damn much.

It makes me an effective principal. But I don't mean to intimidate women.

At least, not at work.

At The Castle? Women beg me to fucking intimidate them.

And fuck them.

"It's just—we couldn’t think of anyone else who's had the required background checks to work with the children. Anyone but you."

I groan. I'm at half-mast with her already. I've been masturbating more in the last month than I have in the past five years, it feels like. I need to get to Chicago and get balls-deep in someone, anyone. Any woman, just to get Holly Sweet off my fucking mind. 

"I'm sorry, Miss Sweet. I'm going out of town tonight. I wish I could help."

Holly exhales, shrugs her shoulders and smiles at me. She's so fucking cute.

"That's alright. I realize it's a lot to ask, and very last-minute. We'll work something out. Heck, maybe I'll put on the Santa suit. It's not like my elf costume fits very well." She laughs self-deprecatingly. "I think they must've bought it for a twelve-year-old. At least, that's how tight it is on me!"

She blushes immediately and bites her lip, as if she's unwittingly admitted something embarrassing to me.

I groan. "You are dressing up as an elf?"

She laughs again and rolls her eyes. "I know, it's ridiculous. I guess because I'm the newest and youngest staff member, I pulled 'Santa's helper' duty. You should see the costume. It's ridiculous."

I groan again.

"Are you feeling okay, Principal Stone?" She half-rises, looking concerned. Looking like she'll come over here and touch me or something.

I hold up my hand. Stay away, little girl. You don't want to sit on this Santa's lap. He has a surprise present for you, and it's a fucking big one.

"I'm fine." There's that growling-bear voice again. This time I don't modulate it, even when Holly's eyebrows rise and she takes a small step backwards. "I've just decided: we can't let the kids down. I'll be Santa tomorrow." Just so I can ogle my damn elf.

Then I'll get the fuck out of town.

"Oh, thank you, Principal Stone! Just meet me in the school library before the festival. I'll have your costume all ready for you." Holly actually bounces up and down slightly, on the balls of her feet. I try not to watch her chest bounce gently up and down. I try not to let my mind imagine her, riding my cock, sliding up and down slowly…

Fucking hell. What am I getting myself into?

It's three hours. Three hours and then I'll be gone for the holidays.

What's the worst that could happen?