Page 14 of PS. You're Mine

“OMG. Grody.”

“Dad, we’re right here. Vomit.”

The girls, Daisy and Summer, roll their eyes and go back to watching their big brother graduate.

Pressing my lips to Katie’s neck, I give her a soft kiss in the place she likes so much. I feel her shiver, and then I whisper against the skin there. “I got a letter yesterday before we left.”

“Oh, you did?” Katie acts innocent, pretending not to know anything about it.

“Yes, I did. It’s strange. After all these years, mysterious letters just keep popping up for both of us. Hmm. I wonder who could be sending them to you and to me. It’s strange they don’t sign them. They just write dirty fantasies.”

I feel her giggle again, and the girls look back at us, giving us warning glares.

Katie leans over and whispers in my ear. “I think we should just do what they say, just in case. You know, for science.”

I look into her eyes. She looks exactly the same as she did the first day I saw her. So beautiful and so perfect. She complains about her stretch marks and boobs since the babies. She talks about finding wrinkles and covering up cellulite. But I don’t ever see what she’s talking about.

All I see—all I’ve ever seen when I’ve looked at my Katie—is my home. She’s been the one since she sent me the first letter, and she’s been mine ever since. So now when I put the postscript at the bottom of our letters, I tell her what I always wanted to say.

PS You’re mine.


Noelle's voice has captivated Alex, and she's become his greatest obsession. Since he hired her to read audiobooks, listening to her is the only thing that makes his lonely world bearable. Thank God she's never seen him. His scars would only scare her away.

Alex has starred in every fantasy Noelle's had since she first heard his voice over the phone, and reading erotica samples to him only fuels her desire. Listening to him on the other end of the phone is the best part of her day, and she's willing to do anything to please him.

On Christmas Eve a storm comes through, sending Noelle in search of her reclusive boss. Once she's at his cabin with no place to go, there's only one way to keep warm.

Warning: This is the sweetest, cheesiest, most Christmassy book ever! It's filled with late-night confessions, dirty deeds, and a lifetime of love. If you love this time of year, I've got some cheer for you!

Copyright © 2015 by Alexa Riley. All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email to

Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

Edited by Aquila Editing

For everyone who has an inner Buddy The Elf… Happy Holidays!

Chapter 1


“‘Please,” she begged. “I need to feel you inside me now. It’s been too long.” Annabelle pleaded with Sam before taking matters into her own hands, grabbing his hard cock and guiding it to her wet pussy. Wanting to make them whole once again, to never be apart from the only man she’d ever loved. Would ever love.

“I’ll give you what you want. Just give me what I want,” Sam demanded, pulling back just a little from her, the head of his cock barely touching her opening. She knew what he wanted, and she was sick of fighting these feelings. She’d find a way to make them work, no matter how different their worlds were.

“I love you. Only you.” She gave him the words he wanted because they were true. She knew it down to her soul.

Samuel thrust home into her welcoming body, his hard cock just as hungry for her as he was.”

The heavy breathing through the phone pulls me from my narration “Mr. Lockwood, are you okay?”

“Alex,” he grunts, sounding irritated with me. “Say it.”

“Alex,” I whisper. He’s been correcting me for months now, but for some reason I always still say ‘Mr. Lockwood.’ It reminds me of who he is—that he isn’t a friend I’m talking to on the phone. He’s a client and nothing more, no matter what my late-night fantasies tell me.

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