Kissmas Wishes (Love In All Seasons 3)

I run my hand over her ass, softening the spot where I spanked my little elf, so fucking ready for her. “Do that now,” I growl. “Ride me until you cum.”

I pull her pussy toward my mouth, kissing her soft hair, before forcing her down on my hard cock.

She straddles me, her tits in my face, and I squeeze them together, loving the way her round globes bounce as she sits on me.

“Oh God, oh baby,” she moans, filling up with my dick.

“Your pussy is so nice and tight baby.”

“Take me, take me hard,” she moans.

“You’re such a dirty little helper,” I tell her, letting my fingers run up her bare ass crack, pressing my finger into her little hole, until she falls against my chest, grinding against me in pleasure.

I finger fuck her little hole as her pussy tightens around my raging cock. Her tits bounce in my face and she wraps her arms around my neck.

I tell her what to do and how to do it. “I want you to cum, I want you to cum now.”

She listens. An orgasm washes over her; her back arches and her cries increase.

She’s not panting anymore.

She’s not moaning.

She is undone.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she screams. Her body is overcome with pleasure. Her pussy dripping sweet juices down her thighs, and my cock explodes inside of her.

“God yes,” I tell her, thrusting myself deeper inside of her, her pussy tightening around me as I cum.

I run my hands down her back, her body slick with sweat; our hearts beating fast.

I shake my head at this Christmas miracle. “Who knew being on Santa’s naughty list could feel so fucking good.”Chapter ThirteenThe next morning, I wake to an empty bed. When I open my eyes, I instantly wish Everett were beside me. But then I smell bacon. And coffee. And I realize it’s Christmas morning.

I pull on Everett’s robe and pad out into the hallway toward the kitchen.

The fire is going, the Christmas tree in the corner. Snow framing every window.

It’s early, but I can tell Everett must have completed his chores. His coat is wet and hangs by the fire. His boots are there as well.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” he tells me. I walk up behind him, wrapping my arms around his torso, resting my cheek against his back.

“Merry Christmas,” I tell him.

As he turns around, he offers me a cup of coffee. I wonder how in the world I ended up here. How in the world my regular life is ever going to compare to this?

“I was out this morning, for a few hours,” he tells me. “I was able to get the path for the truck cleared, so I’ll be able to get you home. The storm has passed, but I reckon your little car is probably buried awfully deep. You can get that towed later, for now, my truck will get you home. I know how much you wanted to be home for Christmas with your sister and nephew.”

A tight knot is growing in the pit of my stomach, but I don’t know how to put words to it. I want something that isn’t mine. I’m certainly not going to ask for something no one has offered.

“Thank you,” I say before taking a sip of the coffee, not knowing how to tell this man exactly what I want. Him. “So after breakfast we should...”

“Yeah.” Everett nods. “Yeah, after we eat I thought we could get in the truck and down the mountain. It’s a ninety-minute drive to your place, so we should get a move on. I should get back here before dark.”

“Right, I wouldn’t want you to get stuck.”

Our eyes meet, and I know there is so much unsaid.

But maybe that is just me. Me who wants to say more, but is scared.

“Okay then,” Everett says, breaking eye contact. “The bacon is ready, and eggs too.”

I smile tightly, swallowing words that I don’t even know. Pushing back the longing I can’t understand.* * *Once we’re in his truck and headed down the mountain, I try to focus on what is, instead of what could be.

What is: I’ve had an amazing two days. What is: I should stop taking my life for granted, and start doing something more meaningful with my time. What is: I suddenly know what I want, a man as good as Everett, and nothing less. Those stupid guys I’ve dated will never have me again. From here on out, I’m not settling.

How could you have Everett and ever go back to anything besides a man from Mistletoe Mountain?

“Bet your cell phone is working again,” Everett says, his eyes on the road.

I pull it from my pocket and power it on. It starts beeping and ringing and singing immediately.

“Damn, you said you are a busy woman,” Everett whistles. “But that’s a lot of people beating down your door to make sure you’re okay.”