Pixie Isobella

‘Are you going to be good to me, Clare?’ the man whispers into my ear, his voice deep and rough. His hand closes around my breast possessively, hungrily. I want to answer him but I can’t focus. My legs are spread wide and another man is buried inside me up to the hilt, using me roughly, careless about anything except his own mounting pleasure. He’s going to cum inside me soon. It will be my ‘Christmas present’, he said…

Clare thinks Christmas is ruined when her boyfriend runs out on her, abandoning her with his brothers for Christmas. What she doesn’t know is that both men have been watching her hungrily. They want to share her with their best friend, and they’re not going to take no for an answer. She is all alone and in their control — and about to have the wildest Christmas of her life.

Capturing Clare: A Tale of Christmas Erotica is now available on All These Roadworks and Smashwords.

Early Release Excerpt from Capturing Clare: A Tale of Christmas Erotica

I swear, I didn’t think Christmas in the country would be like this.

I’m always sad about Christmas. Every year, I look forward to it with delight and every year, I’m disappointed.

I certainly wasn’t expecting to enjoy spending Christmas with my boyfriend’s family. Matthew and I had been getting on badly for months now. But, somehow, I had reasoned that spending the weekend with him at his family’s country house would set us back on the path to happiness.

How wrong could I have been?

Even before dinner had even rolled around on Christmas Eve, Matthew had yelled at both his parents and bailed on the whole affair. He slammed out of the house and drove like a hellion down the ornate driveway, leaving me alone with his parents and his older brothers, Anthony and Angus. His dad just smiled weakly and promised to drive me back to town the following day.

Worst Christmas ever, I grimaced to myself.

It was a disaster. I couldn’t believe I had sacrificed my few well-earned days of leave from work for this. I promised myself silently that I would only ever do Christmas with best friends from now on. No more boyfriends, no more heartache, no more excruciating future-in-law conversation.

I excused myself early and went to bed. I wasn’t tired, just very bored. Plus I had a new novel from my favourite author that I wanted to read. It was a steamy fantasy romance and I couldn’t wait to get to the good part.

I read for a couple of hours, then I lay sleepily playing with my breasts before I drifted off to sleep. My last thoughts before sleep were daydreams about being held captive in chains for the sexual designs of an ancient vampire. He stood over me, telling me that I belonged to him now, and I shuddered in desire at the thought of him reaching down to pull off my clothes and start touching me…

I loathe staying in other people’s houses. I always sleep badly. The houses always sound different to what I’m used to. They have weird smells, and I’m always scared I’m going to break something.

I woke in the night needing the bathroom and as usual I fumbled around stupidly, searching empty carpeted corridors.

It was very dark, which is my excuse for everything that happened later.

I turned a corner in the dark, one hand following the wall, the other hand reaching out to feel my way.

And walked, thump, straight into a man coming from the other direction. I shrieked in surprise, then quickly smothered the sound. I didn’t want to wake people up and embarrass myself more than I had already.

‘I’m sorry,’ I hissed, trying to disentangle myself from him. It was, I thought, one of Matthew’s older twin brothers but in the dark, I couldn’t for the life of me work out which one — Angus or Anthony. I hadn’t met them before today. As grown men in their 40s, they looked quite different to each other but their voices were nearly identical.

‘Clare,’ he murmured huskily, hands reaching out to steady me. ‘What are you doing at this end of the house, darling?’

Feeling embarrassed, I muttered something incoherent about darkness and bathrooms. But then I realised he wasn’t actually listening to my answer. My eyes widened in the dark as I felt slow-moving masculine hands travelling down my body, feeling up my curves. One hand settled onto my breast, and I jumped in shock. The other hand tracked down my back, reaching my waist and tightening, pulling me in towards him.

‘Mmmm.’ He made a long sound of satisfaction. ‘You feel as good as you look,’ he murmured into my ear, pulling me in towards him.

I went with him, resistless. I didn’t know what was happening or what I was doing. But I discovered that I was enjoying the feeling of his hard masculine body against mine in the dark. The fluffy fabric of his robe brushed my cheek as his arm curled around my waist, effectively trapping me against his body.

The hand on my breast was feeling me up appreciatively and I was stunned into silence at the feeling of being touched so intimately without my permission. Strong fingers had located the hardened nipple, teasing it through the silken fabric of my pyjamas. I had forgotten to bring a robe with me for the weekend and I remembered suddenly, with a flush of embarrassment, that all I was wearing was my favourite sexy nightgown and matching silken shorties.

This was not how I wanted to be found dressed in the corridors at night.

I shivered, as I heard his breath rough in the air above me. Heat was trickling down my body into my groin and I trembled. I was already wet from the sexy dreams and masturbating before sleep, and his hand on my nipple was only turning me on more.

What the hell was happening?

‘So delicious,’ the man murmured into my ear, his voice low and rough. His hand closed tightly around my breast, not painfully but possessively. He chuckled in my ear as I jumped, then he started speaking again, his words shocking me.

‘Such a hot little body you have. Such big breasts. Cute hips. You’re wet and ready to fuck, aren’t you, Clare?’

I jumped in shock and I would have shrieked as well except heavy, hard lips landed on my face upturned towards him in the darkness. The hand that was on my breast slid up to caress my throat. Fingers curled around the side of my neck, while the thumb forced my chin high. His lips pushed my lips wider open and a hard tongue pushed straight into my mouth.

I squawked a strangled cry into his mouth, muted by his mouth on mine. His tongue was hard and invasive, filling my mouth, not so much kissing me as penetrating me. I tried to pull away from him instinctively but his arm around my waist had closed like a vice and the hand on my throat hardened, holding me still for his tongue and lips to explore.

I flushed as I realised that the feeling of trying to break away from him had only succeeded in making my pussy wetter. I knew that if I ran a hand through my pussy lips, I would find myself hot and slippery, ready to be penetrated.

Angus – or Anthony, whichever one of them he was – manhandled me backwards, walking me to the end of the corridor, still forcibly kissing me. My calves butted up against something cold and wooden, and I jumped.

He lifted his mouth finally and I gasped for air, wondering what the hell I was doing. What was he doing?

I still couldn’t really see him but he chuckled in the darkness above me. ‘I’m going to fuck you, Clare.’

Would you like to read more? Capturing Clare is now available on All These Roadworks and Smashwords. Read on for Chapter 2!

© 2022 Pixie Isobella