Christmas Carol

“Obviously I had a lapse in judgment,” she mutters, her cheeks blooming with color. “Carol, I know you won’t believe me, but I’m sorry I made such an utter mess of something so beautiful. I just… Hell, Bebé, I’ve never met anyone like you—”

“Damn it, Cyrus. I’m not—”

“I’m not talking about the virginity, Carol. I’m talking about everything as a whole. You’re beautiful, smart, sexy as fuck, caring…”

“Cyrus,” she responds, but she doesn’t sound as mad, so I’m hoping that at least means she’s listening to me.

“I grew up in a group home and the assorted lot of foster homes, Carol. My whole life has revolved around proving that I’m not trash to be thrown away like my parents did.”

“You’re not trash, Cyrus.”

“It’s good you think so, Bebé, but I can’t rewrite the past—even for you.”

“Stop it. You’re a good man. I haven’t had a lot of time with you, but even I can tell that. Besides Ida Sue likes you so there must be something to you,” she jokes.

“Ida Sue likes me? From the conversation I had with her, it sounded like she wanted to shoot me.”

“Is that why you’re here, Cyrus? Because Ida Sue made you?”

“Fuck no. I get how you might not have faith in my, Carol, but I promise you I’m here because I care about you. I want you in my life. I want a relationship with you.”

“You do?” Carol asks, and it might be my imagination, but she sounds hopeful.

“More than you would believe, and I think you want the same thing, Carol—despite how bad I fucked up.”

“I think maybe I do, and I guess I’m not a virgin anymore so you can’t get scared and run for the hills,” she breathes.

“You’re still a virgin in every way that matters, Carol and that gift, when you give it to me, will be something I will cherish for the rest of my life.”

“Does that mean you’re going to give me more time this go around?” she jokes, coming a little closer. When she stops, I close the remaining space between us. She takes the flowers from me, staring down at the roses.

“I can give you a couple of days to get used to the idea,” I concede, making her laugh. “And to prove I’m not going to turn into an idiot again,” I add.

“That’d be good,” she laughs. “The flowers are beautiful.”

“Da’Nika assured me they were your favorites.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” Carol asks, her eyes twinkling again for the first time since I hurt her.

“I want to know all of your secrets, Carol, and I want you to know mine.”

“She makes me these flowers when people buy them to thank me or for presents, because they remind her of Christmas.”

“But?” I prompt when she stops explaining.

“Daisies are my favorite flowers, it’s just that no one has ever tried to find that information out before.”

“I won’t forget it,” I promise, and I won’t. I make a vow that my Carol will have daisies often.

“What do we do now?” she asks.

“How about you let me take you home and fix you my world-famous spaghetti?” I suggest.

“You cook?”

“Well, I can boil pasta and open a jar of sauce. What do you say?”

She laughs. “Best offer I’ve ever had,” she says and that’s when I wrap my arms around her, pulling her to my body and kiss her. And that’s the exact moment I know.

I’m falling in love with Christmas Carol….CyrusI’ve tried my best to go slow. I made such a mess of things the last time we were together, that I truly wanted to give her a chance to get accustomed to everything. There’s just one slight problem.

Carol is dressed in a tight red top with white fur that imitates a sexy Santa suit. She has red and white striped leggings that she normally wears with them, but since we’re at home, she’s not wearing them at all. Which means most of her body is on display, slowly torturing me. Hell, she’s dressed as Santa’s naughty helper and has been wrapping gifts and stacking them in the corner all day—torturing me. She keeps muttering about having to get a Christmas tree soon. I don’t really do trees, but if it makes her happy I’ll put up a whole damn forest. She comes into the kitchen, her arms overflowing with wrapped presents. Her outfit seems to have grown shorter.

When she bends over to put the presents in place, that tight red dress she’s wearing stretches over her ass. My cock is throbbing like a drum—ready to bang her into the New Year.

“Fuck, Carol you’re killing me,” I growl, unable to take anymore. My hand goes down to the crotch of my pants to squeeze my dick as if the pain can contain the mountains of cum that’s been building in there from watching her the last couple of days.