Under the Mistletoe

Family values still flow through my veins. I never found my dad, despite looking a lot and talking to everyone I could. One reason I got into such a lucrative business was to try to pay people to find him or to talk, but that never worked.

So, I shifted my focus to philanthropy and trying to make other people happy. All the money in the world can’t make up for what I lost. But some of it can make someone smile a little brighter.

It was a little past midnight when it hit me: this was my first Christmas not spent with Ma or Carly, but instead spent with someone I actually wanted to introduce to them.

I ordered the clothes once she fell asleep, hoping I wasn’t too far off on her sizes that I guessed, and the drones were fast. In an hour they had everything noiselessly delivered at my doorstep. And so, I had taken the box up, knelt and placed it at her doorstep, when I heard her moaning my name.

I knew then that it was no mirage.

I was not dreaming.

It was happening.

Nellie wants me just as much as I want her, and she is going to be my Christmas gift.Chapter SevenNellie"Something smells really good in here."

Denue spins around, snaps his fingers and licks the dripping sauce off the wooden spoon. Then he smacks his tongue in delight, and waltzes towards me, swinging his hips and swaying his shoulders. He stops a few feet from me, grinning his cheeks off.

"You look stunning in that," he says breathlessly.

"Thank you. I was wondering how you got my exact measurements?"

There’s a twinkle in his eyes, but he rolls them. I’m following their upward motion when I notice something. That twig of mistletoe was not on the doorjamb last night. I could swear it.

"I took a guess," he says. "And I wasn’t wrong, huh?"

"Not in the slightest. Thank you."

“You’re welcome. I’m glad I did— that looks stunning on you. You look incredible wearing it. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” I say, wanting to add a joke about how anything would look better than the beige robe I’d been forced to wear last night, but deciding against it because I don’t want to ruin the moment.

"A lot of things have changed since last night," he adds, taking one step closer to me.

I can smell his aftershave. It’s woodsy and minty.

“Oh yeah?”

"A lot," he emphasizes.

"Whatever could you possibly mean?" I ask with a whisper, tingling at the tender touch of his fingers on the small of my back.

His lips answer me back quietly, sweetly. Lost, and falling into his arms, I feel a shudder of air escape up the robe's slit and browses my upper thigh. I breathe him in and out, loving the taste of his tongue as it’s wrapped around mine.

He knows how to touch a woman, that much is for sure. He knows when. In the present moment, his passion lingers all over his movements, which include the squeezing of my naked ass underneath the robe.

The hunger growls through his thick lips, and his fingers graze all over my back, tenderly traipsing along the curve of my inner thigh, and tracing its way back to my neck, where he holds me close, like a trophy finally in his possession.

For weeks, our slightly naughty conversation has led to this massive payoff right here under the mistletoe, in the softest robe I have ever worn, under the touch I have wanted the most out of any in my life.

Sweat perforates my forehead. I feel as if I could faint, but I don’t know if it’s because the room is hot, or because we are. I pull away. He holds me in place, visibly sad that the fire between us is momentarily quelled, but the real one is still burning.

"Nellie, I need you.”

He pulls me closer to him. Our lips collide once again as his tongue digs deep into me, his fingers kneading my breasts to the rhythm of our crotches grinding.

I wrap my arms around his shoulders and let gravity feel my defiance. He pulls me off the ground and onto the dining room table. Now I’m the one to feel him pull away.

"What?" I say, ready to go on.

"I have to turn the gas off," he laughs.

Once he does, the sizzling slows to a halt and he returns to the task of kissing me. Fuck, he tastes so good.

"I should have told you this, but I heard you last night.”

"You did?”

"Yes. When I was making that delivery to your doorstep."

Unfazed, I say, "Then it was your lucky night, wasn't it?"

"How so?" he asks.

I inch closer to his ear, lick it like I like his dick in my dreams, and whisper, "Because this is my thank you for your Christmas delivery."

He sighs into my mouth as I lock his ass in with my feet. I help him disrobe and pull him away every two seconds just to see his face. This is really fucking happening.