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 Thirteen
The 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.”
“Yeah, looks like I missed thirty-eight texts from my sister, fourteen from my neighbor. Three voicemails. Oh, and my friends who I was supposed to go to the party with, left me angry messages. Until they apparently heard my sister, then they were apologetic,” I tell him, laughing.
“So no one’s worried?”
“No,” I tell him reading through the texts. “Sounds like the state patrol got in touch with my sister pretty quickly.”
“So you’ll go over to her house later today?” Everett asks.
“Yeah, I mean after I deliver the wreaths and get cleaned up.” I look out the window, my stomach in knots. “Would you want to come to her house for dinner?”
“Oh, I should probably get back to my place before another storm hits.”
“Oh, right. That makes sense.” I swallow back the tears. He is just straight up rejecting me now.
I text my sister and tell her I’m okay and that I’ll see her later tonight. She immediately calls me.
Pressing accept, I hold the phone to my ear. “Are you okay? We’ve all been worried sick.”
“I’m good. Really. I’ve been very well taken care of in what could’ve been a terrible situation,” I tell her, my eyes on Everett’s profile. His face turns towards mine.
“You swear to God everything is okay? Talk about a freak storm.”
“Everything is just perfect. Is Tommy good? Is he having a good Christmas morning?”
“We’re having a perfect Christmas morning. In fact,” she says, practically squealing, “now that you’ve told me you’re okay, I’ll tell you my big news. I’m pregnant!”
“Wow,” I tell her, stunned by the news. Though, there’s no reason for me to be surprised. Of course, my sister’s pregnant. Of course, she’s having this life that is perfect. “I’m so happy for you.”
We say our goodbyes and I hang up the phone, my hands shaking.
“What were you pretending to be happy about?” Everett asks in a steady way, seeing through my fake enthusiasm.
“My sister is pregnant.”
Everett nods but doesn’t say a word. Neither do I. We drive down the mountain in silence, the whole time I force myself to look out the window, and blink back tears for what isn’t mine.
Chapter Fourteen
The drive to her place is fucking torture. I know she’s upset.
Damn, I know I haven’t known Evie forever, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to put two and two together. Evie has this wild life, but it sounds like she wants something different.
I can tell by the way she looks out the window, not wanting to talk -- which isn’t like her at all. And I swear to God she’s been blinking back tears for the last hour.