Merry Me (Santa's Coming Short Story) Page 3
“I don’t think any of Santa’s elves walk around naked in the North Pole.”
“Lucky for us,” he says with a grin, pushing down his pants. “We aren’t in the North Pole, we’re in Mistletoe.”
I nod. “Will you let me see your candy cane?”
He chuckles. “You were always so sugary, I was the spice. But with a mouth like that you’ll end up on the Naughty List.”
There is heat on my cheeks but I don’t care. I am being flirty and sassy and saying all the words I’ve always held back. Always dreamed of uttering.
“I may have been a preacher’s daughter, but I’m no nun.”
“I see that,” he says, pulling off his flannel and stepping out of his boxers. “And I’m not Saint Nick.”
“No?” I ask with a smile. “Then who are you?”
He takes my hand and places it on his big, thick cock. “I’m yours.”
Hunter
Her body is perfection, more beautiful than imagined, and when she strokes my shaft, my cock burns with need for her. She is standing here naked, her tits so round and perfect, her ass bare and ready to be squeezed.
“God, I’m glad I came back for you,” I say as I pull her to the carpeted floor. I want to take her virginity in front of the fireplace, next to the Christmas tree. I want to pop her cherry and frost her cookie right here, under the twinkling lights.
“Why now?” she asks, as I lower her to the ground.
Then I spread her knees and begin to massage her creamy cunt. She is so pure and untouched -- so fucking tight, my balls ache at the slightest touch of her sweetness.
She aches too. “Oh, I’ve waited so long for this.”
I take my time, wanting to kiss every inch of her skin, wanting to savor this night for what it is, our first time together.
I kiss her pussy, my tongue lapping up her creamy slit. She tastes so good, sweet like Christmas treats, but not minty like my candy cane -- no, she is royal icing. A gumdrop. A fucking peanut butter cup.
“Oh Hunter,” she murmurs as I massage her thighs, as I press a finger in her tight little cunt and begin to ease my baby open, the way she needs.
I make love to her pussy, taking control of her body the way we both crave. When she is moaning from a deep place, I move against her, offering her my cock, needing her to feel my weight, my thickness.
“It’s not going to fit.”
“We will go slow,” I promise, kissing her softly on the lips.
“It feels so good when you touch me. It feels like I’m awake,” she whimpers, my finger opening her up, her juices slick against my hand. “Alive.”
“I’ve wanted you for so long, Holly,” I tell her, easing my tip inside her slit. “And now I will finally have the girl I always wanted.”
Her eyes meet mine as I enter her and it feels so special, so sacred. I never thought I was enough for her, and yet here she is, choosing me.
“Oh, Hunter,” she whimpers clinging to me. I cup her face with my hand as I ease myself inside her, knowing this is a lot for her body to take.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I tell her, my cock throbbing with pleasure as I fill her tight little cunt. God, she is so perfect. So pure. Mine.
“Don’t hold back. I want you to fill me up. TO make me yours.”
“Oh, baby, you always were.”
We finish, both of us gasping for breath as my come fills her up, nice and good, as her breath goes raw and ragged and as my cock pulses with life. With love.
“This night … it’s changed everything,” she says, as I roll to her side, cradling her in my arms. I don’t ever want to let go.
“I wish I hadn’t waited so long, but I needed to find out who I was, who I wanted to be.”
“And did you do that?” she asks, nestling her curvy body against mine.
“I came back because I’m opening a business here.”
“In Mistletoe?” She stills, and I nod, hope pounding in my chest..
“Yeah, here.”
She props herself up on her elbows. “You’re staying?”
“Where the fuck did you think I’d go?”
Tears fill her eyes. “It seemed too good to be true. Having you come home, for keeps.”
“I’m not leaving you ever again, Holly. I swear it.”
“What kind of business?”
I swallow. Wasn’t exactly planning on discussing this when I was five seconds from sucking her sweet little clit, but she asked, and I’ll answer. “I’m opening a wilderness program for at risk teenage boys. We will summit Mistletoe Mountain, do bonding exercises, learn how to be men. Real men. Men who can take ownership for their lives, who can step up and take responsibility.”
“Hunter.” She shakes her head, pulling me to her. “That’s incredible. You’re incredible.”
“Your dad was hard on me, but in some ways, I’m grateful.” She shakes her head, but I persist. “I mean it. It was tough at the time, the idea that I wasn’t good enough for you -- but in truth, I wasn’t. I was still fucking around in school, smoking pot -- shit that was taking me down a bad road. I needed to grow up. To be the man you deserve.”
“I loved you though, even then,” she says. Her body is a silhouette against the backdrop of the roaring fire. Her long red hair flames, her soft freckled skin a constellation in its own right.
“I know you did, and that is what got me through.”
“And now you’re back.”
I smile, pulling her into my lap. “For keeps.”
She closes her eyes, the conversation stirring something so deep inside of both of us, skin to skin, we hold one another, but I need more.
I reach for my jeans and pull out the treasure I’ve stored. The present I dreamed I could give her.
Now I can.
“Your love was unconditional back then, Holly, no strings attached. You saw me as the man I could be, not the boy I was.”
Tears splash down her cheeks as she realizes what this moment is. What it will always be.
“I’ve loved you since the day we met, the day your father took me in. And I will never, ever stop loving you. I want to spend this Christmas with you, but also, every Christmas of the rest of our lives. Marry me, Holly. Be my wife.”
I offer her the diamond ring, the one that was my mother’s. One of the very few possessions of hers I was left in a safe deposit box at the local bank. I came back in town and got it this afternoon.
“Yes, Hunter. Yes I will marry you.”
I slip the glittering stone on her finger, her hands shaking, her words practically causing my heart to burst from my chest.
“We’re really doing this?” she asks in a whisper. “You really want--“
I cut her off. “Yes. We are. You are my forever now, Holly.”
I ease her down to the floor, needing our bodies to entwine the same way our hearts did all those years ago.
When I enter her for a second time, she is crying happy tears, my cock opening her up, and her perfection taking me. “I’m your fiancée,” she whispers as I begin to fill her up, moving against her in a slow and steady rhythm. I want her first time to be sweet. To be gentle.
“Merry Christmas, Holly,” I say giving her everything I have to offer.
My heart, my soul, my forever.
Epilogue
Holly
One year later….
I sit on the velvet sofa, watching as Hunter reaches to the top of the Christmas tree, placing the star on top.
“That good?” he asks, looking over his shoulder at me.
“It’s perfect,” I say. “Thank you.”
He steps off the ladder and returns to a tangle of lights. “We are running behind. Christmas is in a few days.”
“We’ve had a lot on our minds,” I say laughing, looking down at the newborn bundle in my arms. I gave birth to her two days ago, and just got home from the hospital this afternoon.
Hunter walks over to his wife and daughter, leaning over and kissing me on
the lips, then kissing Merry on the forehead. “Her name is so fitting. She has made our lives so merry and bright.”
I shake my head in wonder at my mountain man of a husband, this man who takes out vulnerable teenagers for so many weeks of the year, helping them grow up. He spends the off season working with families, using his psychology degree to help facilitate hard conversations between teens and their parents. I’m so proud of the man he is. The husband he is.
Now, the father he is.
“Why are you crying?” he asks gently, setting down the strand of lights, and sitting down beside me. My heart stirs for him, it always does. It always has.
“I’m just so happy. Having a home with you, making this life. It’s the best Christmas gift in the world.”
He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear, kissing me again, his mouth warm and familiar. His body comforting, strong. Mine.
“I thought last Christmas was the best Christmas?”
I smile, remembering the pastor who agreed to marry us on Christmas day. Giving us the best anniversary in the world. It wasn’t Truman, of course, it was a colleague of my father’s in a neighboring town. It was simple, I wore white and Hunter wore a suit and we kissed under a ball of mistletoe after we said our vows. My friends Lila and Sarah were there, but that was all. Neither of us have family — instead, we made our own family.
“I suppose, when I’m sharing my life with the love of my life,” I say, “every Christmas will top the last.”
“I’d marry you all over again,” he tells me, his arm wrapped tight around me, our precious baby girl in my arms.
I rest my head on his shoulder, the roaring fire warming the room, the tree glittering in silver and gold, and the magic of Christmas all around.
Then I close my eyes, so tired from the day, having just given birth. Hunter knows that and he takes our daughter from my arms. I blink, sleepily, watching my husband hold his baby girl.
“Merry Christmas, Hunter,” I say, before falling asleep with visions of sugarplums dancing in my head.
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Frankie Love writes filthy-sweet stories about bad boys and mountain men.
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