by F. G. Adams
“Bless you, Santa.” She offers me a tissue from her bag.
“Thank you, Holly. Please, continue.”
The complete reverence in her voice when she talks about her parents, especially her mother, tugs at my heart strings. There are so many layers to this tiny woman. More than I imagined or realized. She’s courageous and tenacious in helping those unfortunate, yet gentle and loving. Herding even the hardest heart to her whimsical nature. She’s a rare find, a one-in-a-million treasured gift.
She finishes sharing the rest of her tradition with me. “The best part was my dad dressing up as Santa. For the longest time, I didn’t realize it was him. Momma kept that part locked down and top secret. She would tell me, ‘You’re a very special child, Holly. That’s why Santa chose you to be his helper again this year.’ She dressed us both up as elves.” She models her outfit with her hands, spinning around for the full effect.
“Now I understand. Alright, then, Santa’s little helper. Lead the way.” I moderately bow as low as the fluffy pillow belly will allow, grab the sack of candy canes she’s prepared for the children, and extend my hand forward, ushering her through the hospital front door.
Room to room, child after child, smile upon smile, we deliver the presents Holly had sent ahead to the hospital. Little by little, the facts come out about the gift-giving process. I learn that her family works with several children’s charities around the metro area to collect and pass out gifts to the ailing kids at St. Jude.
My cup is running over from the joy Holly filled me with today. It’s not every day you get the chance to look into the eye of a sick child and see hope. Each and every sick face brightened when we visited, giving them a small piece of their own Christmas miracle. Resembling the way I’ve felt the past few weeks with Holly a lot.
“That was absolutely amazing, Holly. These children… I mean, did you see the one little girl with the pink bow? She was precious, pixie. I can imagine having a little one just like her.”
“I’m so happy you enjoyed it. You really got into the character there, Santa. I was impressed.”
“Were you now? Come here. Santa needs help scratching an itch, little elf.” I pull her close, nearing her, our breaths mingling, and I slowly, tenderly devour her plush lips. Riding the high of goodwill to all men, all thanks to my little Holly.
“Mmmm. Wow. I like this new and improved version. My Christmas magic is rubbing off.” She leans her body closer to mine, rubbing her perky little breasts against me, and my mind is swamped with what’s underneath her tight little elf costume.
Until I think about the little bald-headed child with the pink flower bow. The sickness in her precious expression created an ache in my hardened heart. The heart I thought had lost all feeling.
“Ella and I always dreamed of having a house full of children,” I recall, and half of my mouth turns up from the fondness of the impression. Yet at the same time, reality slams the door in my face, because it won’t happen with Ella. However, this time the ache doesn’t mean quite as much. It’s bearable due to the woman in my arms. I look away quickly and confess, “But now she’s having a child with someone else.”
“I’m sorry about that, Michael. I really am.” Holly gently caresses my furrowed brow, easing the tension from me.
“It’s okay, pixie. For a while, talking about her always made me sad and hurt. Now, I’m indifferent. I don’t know, maybe you are rubbing off on me.” I cuddle her in my arms and squeeze her tightly, not wanting to let go of this moment.
“So, you want to have a house full, huh? I could totally see that happening. I mean, you were so great with every one of those kids in the hospital. You’ll make a wonderful father someday.” Her attempt to lighten the mood works, and I’m breathing a little lighter.
“Yeah, crazy. I’ve always thought a big family was the way to go. I didn’t have any siblings, and if and when I do have kids, I want them to have someone, besides just the parents.”
“Hey, you turned out pretty good.”
“Glad to hear you approve. I was alone most of the time. Except for when I was with Kyle and you. It helped having my best friend living next door. You both helped fill the void.”
“Oh, Michael. Momma always claimed you as part of our family. We loved you. Still do.”
“You love me, huh?” I tease her with a little tickle along her ribcage.
“Ugh. Men. Is that all you heard?” She swats my arm. She’s forming a habit of touching me at will. I think it’s her favorite thing to do because of the frequent pats I’ve received since running into her. “I care about you a great deal. More than you know.” Holly quietly mumbles the last part, but I heard it and want to hear more.
“What was that?” I ask, squatting down so I can see her face.
“Never mind, egomaniac. My point is, you can have that large family with the house on the hill, full of love, and the holidays. It’s all within your reach, Michael. All you have to do is take it.”
“Maybe you’re right. Funny how a few weeks can change your entire outlook on life. I’m looking at things a little differently now. Because of you.”
“Come on, Saint Nick. You’ve been a really good boy. It’s time for your reward.”
“That’s what I’m talking about, baby. Lead the way.”
Chapter 8
“Christmas is forever, not just one day out of the year. It lives in each of us. It’s for sharing and giving the impossible gift of unconditional love to someone possibly incapable of reciprocating the feeling, but I’m hoping for a miracle.” ~ Holly Edwards
I’m falling fast and hard for Dr. Michael Barnes. Faster than I had the first time I laid eyes on him in my momma’s kitchen when he came home with Kyle. He’s everything a woman could possibly want or desire gift wrapped with a velvety red bow. There’s a deep inner strength he projects with every subtle action. I saw beyond the smile on his handsomely rugged face and caught the pain he hid from everyone. It’s fading now, and I’d like to believe I’ve had a hand in helping him move on.
I twist the key to unlock my front door and usher him in, closing it quickly to keep the warm, toasty air inside.
“Brrr. I think the temperature dropped between the subway and here. I’m chilled to the bone. Can I offer you a drink, maybe hot chocolate? I could add a little peppermint schnapps or Bailey’s liquor. It’s so good. Delicious, actually, but I have coffee or a soda if you prefer something else. I just thought something to warm the inside would help take the chill away faster.” I ignite the gas fireplace. Orange and red flames leap up from the logs, and warmth spreads throughout the room.
“Yeah, I believe you’re right,” he agrees, placing his hands in front of the fireplace to warm them. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve had hot cocoa. Think it was my last year of med school.”
“Well, then, it’s been too long. I’ll be right back. Make yourself at home.”
I return to find Michael minus the Santa garb sitting on the rug in front of the fire, his expression distant and faraway. I take a moment to sate my appetite and study his rugged masculinity. The perfect male specimen, well-proportioned and pleasing to the eye. I could get lost for hours just watching him breathe. The piping-hot mugs of cocoa begin to get heavy. Steadying them, I walk slowly, not wanting to lose a single drop of the delicious goodness.
“Here we go,” I say and carefully offer it to him.
He takes a sip as I grab a fluffy pillow and sit down beside him to enjoy the warmth. I teeter balancing the mug and hastily place my lips on the rim to swallow the hot chocolatey goodness down a little before it spills over. I don’t want a drop to go to waste. Plus, he probably wouldn’t let me live it down. When I turn to him, he’s wearing an adorable smirk. My insides melt a little, similar to the whipped cream and candy-coated sprinkles in my mug.
“What?”
He lightly rubs away the whipped cream mustache and leans in. “Here, let me.” He takes the mug from me and places it on the table. Chil
ls consume me, not from the frigid weather outside but from the first touch of his velvety, hot tongue as he leans forward and licks a line across the top of my upper lip.
“Mmm. Simply divine. Even better than I imagined.”
I simply stare at him, words escaping my bewildered, hazed brain and over-sensitized nerve endings. He only touched my lips, but I felt him down in the tip of my big toes. It’s magical. Beautiful. I need more. My body aches, a burning gnawing in unusual places that are foreign and unknown. I want him to show me more. The desire to belong devours all my common sense.
In the past, I’ve put my sexual needs on hold, staying true to myself to wait for the right man to come along. In my heart, I want to believe Michael is the one for me. I’ve craved him from the beginning, wanting him in my life. Seeing the compassion he showed with the children earlier confirms the goodness rooted inside of him.
Boldness erupts from a woman in need. “Touch me, Michael. Make me yours.” I push my shyness aside.
“All I want is you, Holly. Here and now.”
He removes my costume tunic and caresses the tender mounds, painfully erect and needing his touch. When he finds the front clasp, they spring free of the binding. The molten-hot cavern of his mouth closes over the tip of my breast, and the alien sensation completely overwhelms me. A noise escapes me. I arch into him, begging for more when the loss of him assails me and I protest until I feel him laving the other breast, paying homage to the twin mounds. I’m spinning upward, floating on a cloud of intense pleasure.
Michael tenderly nips the skin under the globe followed by a stroke of his tongue, ensuring every inch of me is on fire with desire and burning for him. Only him.
He slowly rolls down the leotards, the only remaining item from the elf costume, and then I’m lying on my plush rug in only my panties with the man I want more than my next breath of life-giving air. His eyes caress my nudity, creating sensations of want and deprivation.
His thumbs hook under the lace on my hips, and he slowly edges them downwards over my thighs, knees, and ankles, removing the last piece of clothing.
“Holly, you are…” He pauses, cocking his head slightly, and bites his bottom lip. “Absolutely breathtaking.”
I want to squirm. Cover myself from his penetrating eyes. But I don’t give in to the urge rushing over me. I remain still, following his direction.
Light, barely-there touches stir my attention to my painted toes.
“Santa? Really, Holly?” he tsks, joking at my choice of holiday garb. I shrug, not giving up the web of pleasure I’m caught in.
His fingers continue to tenderly taunt me, advancing up the curves of my calves and over my smooth shins, his palms landing on top of my rounded knees as he parts them for his viewing pleasure. Overcome from watching the desire build in him, but at the same time apprehensive at his actions, I try to close my knees, but he holds me steady in an unbreakable grasp.
“Michael, please. I’m really not comfortable with that. It seems too personal. To intimate.”
A raven eyebrow lifts as he lowers himself, trapping my knees under him. Firm flesh collides, physical contact of two vessels aching for release.
“Angel, before this night is over, I will have touched, tasted, and branded every single inch of your downright luscious body. You’ll be begging me for more. I promise you.”
My breath hitches and I quiver in anticipation. My heart somersaults. I relax into him, relinquishing control to his desire and experience. Lifting up, he removes his white tank top and oversized costume pants; silky ruby boxers are all that remains between him and me. Slowly, seductively, he edges the material down his muscular thighs, freeing what I’ve longed to see, to touch.
Impatient, I ease up onto my elbows, offsetting the smoldering man, and catch a glimpse of his massive member.
“I’m not sure that’s going to fit in me,” I barely murmur under my breath. My naïvety and lack of experience overwhelm my unpredictable, meandering thoughts.
He seductively answers, “There won’t be a problem, little one. It will fit. Trust me.”
I slowly incline my head, a little concerned, but it’s quickly forgotten when he lowers his solid body onto mine. We blend. His hard planes fit into the softness of mine. Two jagged pieces connecting and melding to form a single entity. There’s no ending or beginning. No longer separate.
I’m aware of him stroking and touching me, continuing to catapult me onward to paradise.
He brushes against my thigh, his hand seeking my feminine center, hot and welcoming his efforts.
Slowly and gingerly, a single finger penetrates my molten core, heightening my desire for him. A stifled moan escapes from somewhere deep inside me. Fire and ice. He delves into my womanly center, preparing me for his entry. A second finger seeks refuge.
My hands have a mind of their own as they trace his form and over his perfectly shaped buttocks. I hold him closer. Wanting more of him. Not satisfied with only his fingers. Awareness bubbles in the recess of my mind, like a mountain spring fizzling and churning. A promise of paradise. There is much more to come.
I’m mindless to his ministrations. He’s working me over into a puddle of blissful pleasure only to be left hanging and for him to start all over again. I’m withering, quaking from the onslaught.
He removes his hands, and I feel him probing with his large member. This is it. The moment I’ve dreamt of. Long lashes cascade over his cheekbones, lifting to focus on me.
“You are exquisite.” He gently kisses me. “I want you so bad I can taste you deep inside of me.”
Slowly, with infinite tenderness, he enters me. Cautiously watching for any sign of discomfort. My face remains blank. I don’t want him to stop, which he would if he knew the painful pleasure he’s inducing. I launch myself upwards, tangling our tongues. Needing the added connection. He doesn’t waiver in his efforts as he calms me with his gentleness.
When he meets resistance, dawning spreads across his face, and for a slight moment I believe he will stop and call a halt to our lovemaking, but he doesn’t. An expression of male satisfaction forms. He holds my stare and withdraws slightly only to move forward quickly, breaking the barrier of my virginity and nestling himself deep inside me. He stops, breathing heavily, allowing moments to pass. My body feels like it’s been invaded and impaled, but it’s not discomforting enough to want to stop and end the mounting pleasure he’s created already. Testing my pain, I hesitatingly move my hips in an upward motion. A strong grip lands on the curve of my hips, halting my progress.
“Give me a minute. Your body is squeezing me tightly. You feel too good to be true, Holly. I want this to be good for you. Need you to enjoy it as much as I am.”
“I need you, Michael.”
“I’m right here, love.”
His hips begin to gingerly move at an excruciatingly slow pace, and the pleasure he created earlier rekindles almost instantly, causing little ripples inside to form into waves upon waves of intense ecstasy. He delves inside, thrusting hard and strong. Bodies slap together as we join in mind and body on a search for the ultimate goal. We move together in perfect unison. Oblivious to anything else but our cozy little world.
I’m on the edge looking down, a firestorm spreading through me. And out of nowhere, my body explodes and multiple colors shine brightly as I violently shake from the fiery onslaught. His hoarse shout follows mine as ripples of intense pleasure pulse between us. I’m overwhelmed at our closeness and the desire to never be without him. Ever. We are both panting, attempting to catch our breath.
Michael gathers me into his large, caring arms and reverently peppers me with kisses, feathering them along the side of my temple. He lifts my chin so I’m staring into his smoldering eyes.
“You are so beautiful, Holly. Inside and out. Thank you for the priceless gift you bestowed upon me. Not only have you shared your fondest memories, reliving them for me, but you’ve healed a part of me I thought was broken and dead.”
&
nbsp; There’s so much meaning expressed in his words. I want so badly to believe there’s a future for us, but then he didn’t mention a future, only the here and now. I can be happy with the small steps as long as I’m with him.
“I only want you to be happy, Michael.”
“I realize it’s not a declaration of love, but please don’t give up on me. You’ve got me rethinking my life, wanting more than where I was going.”
“Not my style. You should know that by now. I’ll be here for as long as you need me.”
He pulls me close, hugging me tightly. “You’re too good to me, Holly, but I’m not complaining. Thank you.”
This may be the biggest, clumsiest move I’ve ever made, but my heart is leading the way, not my mind. Trusting myself with my feelings perched on my shoulder, I pray for my Christmas miracle to never end. This might have started out with the idea to help him find Christmas again, but it’s quickly become my salvation. He’s filled a void inside of me I didn’t realize was there.
Michael is my Christmas future.
Chapter 9
“Where there is hope, there is faith. Where there is faith, miracles happen. Holly has shown me that life is a series of thousands of tiny miracles. Yet it’s up to us to notice them.” ~ Michael Barnes
Millions, no billions and trillions of glistening stars scatter across the endless night sky, lighting up the evening as we walk along the lit-up streets of the city. My arm is wrapped around the most beautiful little thing in the whole world. My world, anyway.
I'm still having a hard time grasping that Holly was an innocent, saving herself for her special someone. Me. She gifted me with her most precious possession. I’m humbled as another chunk of the solid walls I’d built around my heart crumbles. I’m the only man to have possessed her body. Piece by piece, second by second, the little pixie wormed her way into the blackness, carrying her bright light. Replacing the darkness with goodness and… love? Crazy talk from an unpredictable, willful heart. But I’m riding this train and am not looking for the end to come.