I’m one of those people who has six pairs of Christmas socks tucked away in a drawer, waiting for December 1st, (I’m wearing a pair covered in penguins wearing Santa hats right now). I listen to start listening to Christmas carols when the pie comes out on Thanksgiving, and I kind of, maybe, totally know A Muppet Christmas Carol by heart. I love Christmas – not for the presents (though who doesn’t like presents) – but for what it tends to bring out in people.
Christmas, and the holidays in general, are a kind of universal signal to give a little more, be a little more kind, and to try to make being a human being as nice as possible, even if only for a few weeks in the middle of the cold, dark winter. Doing something for others is a big part of that, so when Delilah Night asked if I would donate a story to a Christmas anthology to benefit Project Linus, I said absolutely yes.
Project Linus supplies kids and families in need with blankets. It seems like a small thing, but if you’ve ever seen a little person snuggled up safe under a blanket that’s been loved to literal pieces, you know that small things actually mean quite a lot.
For every copy of Under the Mistletoe that gets sold, Coming Together will make a donation to Project Linus, which means that you get to do something good for humanity, and read top shelf seasonal erotica all at once. What’s not to love about that?
“Green Lady”, my story in Coming Together Under the Mistletoe, is a throwback to the Arthurian legend of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, a story packed with ordeals surrounding a lady and a deeply corruptible knight. Naturally, it’s an ideal contender for an erotic adaptation.
I’m including a small snippet as a lure (kids need blankets, remember?), so if you like what you read, please do consider buying the whole anthology. I’ll include buy links, as well as an opportunity to win a free copy below.
from “The Green Lady” by Malin James:
She enters without knocking, very quietly, so that he might pretend to be asleep. They often do, and so does he, but she knows his sleep is feigned. She can see his eyes flickering beneath pale lids fringed by lashes as thick as a girl’s. The effect is so sweet that she smiles. His pretense of sleep and pretty face defy the scars that mark his hands. He has hands like her husband’s, and a face like hers used to be.
She knows her role so well that she could play it in her sleep. And yet, as she bends over the bed, she feels a swell of arousal that she hasn’t felt in years. She kisses his cheeks, relishing the brush of his beard against her lips before moving to his brows and mouth. He stirs unconvincingly, like a boy caught in a dream. She chuckles in spite of herself. The tension coming off him shatters any illusion of sleep.
Normally, she would have roused him with every appearance of virtue. But her arousal makes her impatient. Watching him carefully, she draws the covers back and climbs up on the bed. He shifts as she straddles him, but does not open his eyes, so she moves aside the folds of her robe so her skin touches his.
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