Dear Santa: A Bad Boy Christmas Romance

by Lulu Pratt

  “Picky never lasts that long,” Dad counters.

  “Obviously it does,” I tell him. “Seeing as how she isn’t with anyone right now.”

  “Speaking of which,” Dad says, “when are you going to get tired of the merry-go-round and settle?”

  “Not anytime soon, I can tell you that,” I reply.

  “I get the allure,” Dad says, finishing off his meatballs. “But at some point, whatever your career trajectory, you’re going to appreciate having someone who can make things stable, hold everything down.”

  “I don’t even know what my ‘career trajectory’ is,” I tell him. “I don’t know what I’m going to be doing in the next six months.”

  “You’ll figure it out,” Dad says. “I mean, after all, whether or not you’re seeing someone seriously will probably figure in whether or not you decide to reenlist.”

  “Whatever, old man,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I’m nowhere near figuring that out yet.”

  “You should figure it soon,” Dad says to me. “And expect that people are going to ask you about it this week.”

  “Not if you and Mom don’t tell them about it,” I point out.

  “People are going to do the math, son,” Dad counters. “They’re going to figure you’re close to finishing your time. Even if they don’t, you’re going to get the question of what you plan on doing after the army anyway.”

  Before I can say anything to that, there’s a knock at the door and I get up to answer it. The first of the guests is one of my dad’s coworkers and his wife. Mom comes out of her room before I have any chance to say anything other than hello, and I move out of the way to let my parents take over.

  It’s going to be rough until some people’s kids get here, I think. At least Harper should get here soon, and I’ll have someone to talk to.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  HARPER POLSEN

  I follow my parents across the lawn to Bev and Nolan’s home where the party’s already in progress. The tables look great, the candles lit, the flowers all perfect, and with the sun starting to take on the gold-yellow glow of late afternoon, it’s magical. A few people are milling around outside, smoking cigarettes and chatting, eating the snacks that either Bev made or people brought with them.

  Most of the people at the party are folks I recognize more or less immediately. The neighborhood party would be in a few days, and then my parents were going to have the Lewises over for dinner after that.

  I’m carrying some stuff that Mom and I prepped for the party — pasta salad that I made, and Mom’s yogurt dip with some veggies and some pita chips. I hurry into the house while Mom and Dad are saying hello to everyone outside, and spot a handful of people my own age.

  “Hey, good to see you,” one of Bev’s coworkers’ kids says to me, and I smile at her. She helps me open up the yogurt dip and snags a taste of it, leaning in closer. “Be on the lookout,” she murmurs, “the parentals are trying to play matchmaker.”

  “Oh God,” I groan, opening my pasta salad container and shaking my head.

  “I know, right?” I remember suddenly that her name is Natasha. “I haven’t told my parents I’m seeing this guy, so they think I’m still single, and they have not got off my case all night.”

  “Probably something about how ‘romantic’ it is that we’re all celebrating a twenty-fifth anniversary,” I say, shaking my head again. “Ugh. At least we’re all drinking age.” I spot the table with the pitchers of red, white and rosé sangria, along with bottles of Champagne and soft drinks and I suddenly want nothing more than to mind the bottles and stay out of the way. But I know that’s not an option.

  “Harper! Good to see you, girl!” I give Natasha a wry grin and let myself be hugged by one of Zane’s aunts.

  “You too! Oh wow, it’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” I manage to stop her at the drink table and at least pour myself a glass of the red sangria before she’s steering me to other people in the room, reminding everyone that I was “Marshall’s daughter.”

  “You’ve been living in New York all this time, right?”

  “Since I graduated, yeah,” I reply, keeping a smile on my face.

  “How are you liking the city?”

  My attention is torn in five different directions. I’m not sure whether I should try to find my parents or try to make a break for it altogether. Instead, I tell everyone I’ve suddenly been surrounded by about my job with the publishing company, keeping mum on the big news I haven’t even told my parents about yet. Finally, my parents appear, and for a second I think I’m saved.

  “There you are, Harper!” Mom cuts through the crowd around me and pulls me away, saying that the guests should all be swarming the couple of the evening anyway. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

  “Mom,” I say, pulling my hand free of hers.

  “Just meet him, sweetie,” Mom says.

  “How am I going to meet anyone here? I already know everyone,” I point out.

  “There are at least six people at this party this evening that you don’t know,” Mom tells me. “Nolan’s department just hired four new people since you were last in town, and three of them have sons.”

  “Mom, don’t do this,” I insist.

  “Just meet them, sweetie. I’m not, like, trying to plan your wedding or anything,” Mom says. “I just thought you might like to meet some nice boys while you’re in town.”

  “So that I’ll go on dates with them, fall in love and move back from the city, I’m sure.” I roll my eyes at her. “Don’t you think it’s going to look really weird if my mother is introducing me?”

  “Not at all, sweetie,” Mom replies. “That’s what people do at parties, introduce people to folks they might not already know.”

  “Mom, let me meet people on my own,” I protest. “I’ve got a drink, I’m going to get something to eat as soon as I can get away from people trying to corner me, I’ll be fine. Go… meet people with Dad, or something.”

  I spot Zane. I can only hope that he’ll save me from the situation. I duck out of my mom’s sight and try to take the least obvious course to get to him. On the way, I grab some crab dip and some of my pasta salad, and make sure Mom isn’t following me.

  “Oh-my-God,” I mutter as I get close to him. “Are your parents going crazy with introducing you to people too?”

  “All the parents are trying to play matchmaker,” Zane replies. “Most of us aren’t having it.”

  “Most of us?” I look around the room. “Who’s the turncoat?”

  “Chelsea,” Zane says, pointing her out. “Apparently half the girls from her sorority are married or engaged, so she’s looking to get on the fast track.” He sips his sangria.

  Zane then looks at me with a smirk, “It’d be better if my parents had thought to have something other than this to drink. Beer or some liquor.”

  I roll my eyes at him. “You didn’t get enough of that during your party year? Or at base bars?”

  “When a man finds his best option, he doesn’t vary the tune,” Zane says, looking at his glass of sangria with distaste.

  “Sangria is perfectly fine,” I insist. “Especially with everything else going on food-wise.”

  “Yeah, if you’re a woman,” Zane counters.

  “Get a life, Zane,” I say, turning away from him. In spite of myself I can feel a little jolt of warmth working through me. It’s because he’s dressed up and all muscly from being in the army, that’s all it is. That and because you’ve been deprived so long, I tell myself.

  I wander around the party, chatting with a few people, drinking sangria and trying to ignore Zane. I hear people asking him about the military, and every so often, we catch each other’s eyes and make faces at how ridiculous the whole situation we’re in is.

  I manage to get a decent buzz going on after a few glasses of sangria, and I actually start to loosen up a bit. I keep seeing Zane and can’t help but notice how hot he is, over and over again. I try to keep my mind on
the party, and maybe even try to meet a few new guys, but by the time the party ends and Mom, Dad and I walk back across the lawn to the house, I don’t find anyone else worth really investigating.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ZANE LEWIS

  I finally walk into my room after the party, feeling almost as tired as I normally do after a personal training session, and almost as jazzed at the same time. I turn on the lights and untuck my dress shirt, kick off my shoes, and sit down in front of my TV, starting up my old PlayStation to play a few rounds against the computer to tire myself out.

  I’m playing by autopilot, reacting to the action on the screen without even really thinking about it, since I’ve played the game so many times I don’t need to focus. I start thinking about the party. For the most part it was silly, but I have to admit to myself that Harper was looking really good, even better than when I’d seen her the night before, or even that morning.

  I see movement in the corner of my vision and pause the game for a second. The movement is in my window, or more accurately, it’s across the yard, in the other window. Harper’s room. I start to go back to my game, but as soon as I see what she’s doing, I forget about the game altogether. She’s taking off her dress. Apparently she doesn’t remember her curtains are open.

  I know I shouldn’t watch, and I tell myself to get back to the game, because I shouldn’t even be interested in seeing Harper get naked. But I am. I move a little closer to my window and watch her as she wriggles and squirms, pulling the fabric over her head, revealing her panties and bra. Goddamn. Harper is practically spilling out of her bra, and as she reaches around to her back, I’m already almost mentally begging to see what she looks like without it.

  I get my answer in less than a minute. Harper unhooks her bra and slides the straps down her shoulders, and then tosses it aside. Her back is still to the window.

  “God, take the panties off too. Take them off.” I’m already starting to get hard, my cock coming to life in my pants. Somewhere along the way, Harper hasn’t just become more mature, she’s also got a terrific-looking ass and a killer rack to go with it. It’s all on display for me right there, without her even knowing.

  Of course, I know she’s probably not going to take off the panties. She’s probably going to put pajamas on over them, or something like that. I hold my breath anyway, watching her take her hair down, seeing it fall past her shoulders. My cock gets harder, and I can feel all the blood pooling in my hips while I wait to see if Harper’s going to get naked.

  She hooks her thumbs in the waistband of the tiny, lacy panties she’s wearing and tugs them down over her hips. There’s no part of her I can’t see. She bends over, her back still to the window, not even aware of me sitting there watching her right across the yard. It’s all I can do not to run downstairs, dash across the yard, and break into the Polsens’ house to go up to her room and ask if she wants a little help.

  The next moment, though, she’s not at the window anymore and I groan. She’s gone, and either she’s getting in the shower, or putting more clothes on again. The magic spell, for the time being, is over. But I can’t get the sight of her out of my head.

  I try to turn my attention back onto the game, but the sight of Harper’s hot, firm ass plays through my mind. I figure if I wait it out long enough, my erection will go away. But the longer I play the computer the more certain I am that I’m going to have to take care of myself.

  I turn off the PlayStation after a while and start stripping off my clothes. My cock is straining at the front of my boxers, and I can feel it throbbing. The only thing I can think about is the sight of Harper naked, only yards away from me. Before I know it I’m imagining what it would have been like if I’d followed through with my instinct to run over there.

  I picture her looking at me in shock and that smile I saw her give me a few times during the day. She’s hesitant at first, but she moves closer to me, and I take my boxers off. I wrap my hand around my erect cock and stroke myself slowly, imagining it’s Harper’s hand instead of mine, that she’s touching me. No, no, she’d be hesitant at first. I smirk to myself.

  I imagine Harper sinking to her knees and looking up at me, nervous but eager, and wrapping her lips around me. Taking the head first and then slowly sucking more of me into her mouth. My hand starts moving faster on my cock, and I tighten my grip as I think about her mouth on me, her hand at the base of my erection. I imagine her finding her rhythm and taking me gradually deeper and deeper, until she can’t anymore, and backing off a little bit.

  My little fantasy deepens, and I look across the way, hoping to catch some sight of Harper, but she’s not back in the window, at least not that I can see. I imagine pulling her onto her feet, letting my hands wander over her body, teasing her while she moans and squirms from how hot and ready she is for me.

  I imagine laying her down on her own bed, pinning her there, claiming her tits with my mouth, one after the other, stroking her soft skin, feeling her respond to my touch and then her hot, wet pussy. My hand starts moving faster on my dick as I think about thrusting into her, taking her all at once and feeling her hot, wet center clamp down on me. I groan, closing my eyes tighter and picturing her, imagining the sensation of her tighten around my cock, her hips moving to take me deeper.

  I try to hold myself back as I get more and more into the little fantasy of Harper, but I can’t help feeling more and more turned on imagining having sex with her. She’s so hot and seeing her naked made it impossible not to think of what it would be like with her. Before I know it, I am right on the edge.

  I groan out as I come, shooting off onto my abs. It hits me hard, harder than the last time I came with a woman even. I keep shooting off, barely able to contain it, until I’m shaking a little bit from the force of it all. I lean back in my chair panting and gasping.

  When I look over at Harper’s window again, the lights are off. Whatever else she did after taking off her clothes, I certainly hadn’t seen it, and there wouldn’t be any more to see.

  CHAPTER NINE

  HARPER POLSEN

  In spite of how tired I was when I finally got up to my room, I feel restless now lying in bed. I’d stripped off my clothes and thought about taking a shower, but settled instead for just cleaning the make-up off my face and brushing my teeth and hair.

  My mind is spinning with everything that I have going on. I have the big project waiting for me back in the city. A major novel by a famous author, and I’m the one in charge of it. I’m the one whose name is going to appear as the editor. I’m the one who’s going to get listed in the acknowledgements.

  But that’s not all that’s on my mind as I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling. I can’t stop thinking about Zane, and that fact, all on its own, is enough to drive me nuts. Of all the people in the whole world to catch the hots for, it has to be him? I think about the sight of him up on the ladder, tacking down the strings of lights for the party. I think about the lean muscle rippling under his skin, at his arms. The times his shirt rode up and I could see his abs.

  I toss and turn in bed, not sure whether worrying about my first major book project or thinking about how hot Zane is is the worst thing. I turn over again and notice there’s light coming from the house next door. I realize that I left my curtains open — I’d changed just like I normally do in my apartment, but there the blinds are never open.

  I tell myself that there’s no way that Zane saw me. He probably wasn’t even in his room yet, probably still downstairs talking to his parents or something. But I’m still naked, and I don’t want to risk being seen getting dressed in the morning, so because I’m not falling asleep anytime soon, I get up out of bed.

  Before I can close my curtains, though, I see him. Zane, I hope, can’t see me, since I’ve turned the lights off in my room to try to get to sleep, but I can see him plain as day. He’s naked, and for a moment all I do is stand there and stare, he’s just as lean, just as muscular, as I had thought.

  And
then I notice what he’s doing. His hand is wrapped around his thick, fully hard cock. His eyes are closed, and I watch, fascinated, as he strokes himself steadily, his thumb and forefinger really working the tip. Heat washes through me and I can’t even remember the last time I wanted to be in the same room as someone else as much as I do right now.

  Normally the idea of a guy jerking off doesn’t really appeal to me. It seems so crass, so gross in some way, but watching Zane work himself with his hand, I can almost hear him moaning and it makes me instantly wet.

  I feel more than a little guilty watching him, but at the same time a little voice in the back of my mind asks the question, is he getting himself off because that’s a thing that guys do, or is it because he saw something? And if he saw me, is he getting himself off because he thought I was hot? As hot as I think he is right now?

  Almost on their own, my hands start moving over my body. I imagine Zane’s hands instead of mine, tweaking my nipples and rolling them slowly, sending little tingling jolts of pleasure right to my pussy. I feel the tightness deep down between my hips, feel my muscles flexing and my knees feel wobbly in a way they haven’t in ages.

  I pull a chair over to my window as quickly as I can and sit down, still watching Zane playing with himself in spite of how guilty I feel. “God, I’m sick,” I mutter to myself, even as one of my hands slips between my legs to start sliding along my folds. What would it even be like to have sex with him? I’d heard the usual rumors from girls at school. But that had been years ago, and besides, I never trusted rumors.

  I imagine a stupid fantasy, something out of a bad porn, of going up to Zane’s room and asking him if he’d like a little help. Even as I shake my head at how corny the idea is, I’m pressing my fingers deeper, finding my clit by touch. Just the lightest brush of my fingertips against the little bead of nerves is enough to make me instantly hotter, instantly wetter, and I let the fantasy play out in my head without even questioning it.