Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 56462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 282(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 282(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
“I’m gonna kill you.”
“You can try,” she says. “But I’m simply too brilliant. You’ll miss me too much.”
Rolling my eyes, we hastily start climbing out of the fountain before we get hypothermia and everything starts to go numb. My teeth begin to chatter just like Carolina’s and the need to get home and in a hot shower becomes my only priority. “Gotta admit, this really isn’t how I pictured my night going,” I say.
Carolina pulls off her soaking coat, pinching a stray leaf stuck to her soggy thigh, both of us just moments from turning blue. “I know. I’m sorry. I really thought you’d be on your back right now, legs in the air, being railed within an inch of your life.”
I let out a heavy sigh, able to picture it so clearly. “Fuck, that actually sounds really good.”
Carolina puts her arm around me and we both stare at the offending fountain a moment longer, the two of us violently shaking from the cold. “You know, the best way to heal a broken heart is to let someone else dazzle it.”
“I thought the way to get over somebody was to get under somebody else.”
“Two things can be true,” she laughs before slipping her hand into her soggy pocket and pulling out a single penny. “Here,” she continues, handing it to me. “Toss it into the fountain and make yourself a raunchy Christmas wish. Get railed for the holidays. Finish the year off with a literal bang, and when you come back to work in the new year, you’ll be fresh as a well-fucked daisy.”
My heart starts to race, but that could be the hypothermia setting in.
After I saw Santa and who I assume was his son, I wished for that little boy to return every year. And call me crazy, but I’m almost certain he did. I never saw him again or woke up in the middle of the night to see if he was there, but every single time I’d wake up on Christmas morning, a tiny charm rested on my bedside table.
Sure, some might think it’s weird that every Christmas Eve, someone has been coming into my bedroom and leaving me a charm, but I know deep in my gut that it was him—the little boy who winked at me all those years ago.
Even now, I cherish those Christmas charms. I still have every single one of them and have put them together on a bracelet that I’m too afraid to wear for fear I might lose it. But what it really comes back to is that I’ve wished for him to return every year, and he’s done just that.
Only that little boy is no longer a child. He’s all grown up now.
I wonder if . . . hmmm.
Maybe I need to ask for something a little . . . more from my mystery Christmas Eve visitor. I already know he’s willing to return, but just how far can I push this?
And with that, I close my eyes and toss the little penny into the freezing fountain. “This Christmas, I wish to be dicked down so hard that my knees will shake for weeks after. I wish to be thrown around, flipped over like a pancake, and railed within an inch of my life. I wish to be dragged down my bed only to feel a warm mouth close over my clit and scream as he works me with his skilled tongue.”
“Oh, don’t forget making him come apart in your mouth,” Carolina suggests, her shivers shaking us both.
“Oh yeah. That too,” I say through chattering teeth. “But most of all, I wish to come alive, to feel things I’ve never felt before, and to be screwed so good that nothing will ever compare.”
2
NICK
Ahh, Christmas Eve, the busiest night of the year. For me, at least.
Believe it or not, but I am the big asshole in the red suit. Some may know me as jolly old Saint Nick or Father Christmas, but I’m more commonly known as Santa Claus.
There’s a catch, though. I’m not exactly the Santa Claus you’re thinking of.
You know the guy you see plastered across the malls every December? The one with the jolly Christmas spirit, rosy cheeks, and the beard? Yeah, that’s not me. That’s my father, Nick Sr.
He was the one that encompassed the whole Christmas spirit. He gets all hot and bothered for sleigh rides and Christmas carols, and for the better part of fifty years, he was the greatest Santa Claus to grace the planet. But unfortunately for me, as much as he’d like to think he’s invincible, he’s not, and only a few short years ago came the dreaded time to retire.
Fuck, he was a cranky bastard leading up to that, but now that he’s dedicated his existence to being a thorn in my side, the old man has regained his jolly spirit.