Dear Santa

by Lulu Pratt

  Grappling for words, I open my mouth then close it.

  My plan worked?

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say stiffly.

  His insinuation makes me want to chuck up my breakfast. I didn’t trick Andrew into being my client by sleeping with him.

  And why are we ignoring the fact that these two men are brothers? I don’t appreciate being kept in the dark about that. I open my mouth to tell him as much but he beats me to the punch.

  “Don’t be so modest. I’m sure you’ve figured it out on your own but my brother is motivated by… physical thrills, to put it simply. So kudos to you for playing into that. Genius,” he remarks but the compliment leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

  He’s got this all wrong. I would never manipulate someone for my own personal gain.

  But isn’t that exactly what you’ve been doing all summer? You’re a teacher not a financial advisor. Remember?

  The unwelcome reminder from my conscience makes me worry my bottom lip with my teeth.

  “Anyway,” Edward says, moving right along. He doesn’t pick up on my unease and I’m not surprised. The man is incapable of reading body language or maybe he just doesn’t care.

  Whatever the case, he doesn’t look fazed by the shock etched across my face.

  “I just wanted come by and tell you to keep up the good work.” As always, a folder appears out of thin air and he slides it in my direction. “Look these over for the remainder of the day and I’ll be in touch.”

  When the door closes behind him, I shove the folder away from me and swivel my chair in the direction of the large window.

  Well, I still have a job which means hope isn’t completely lost for the donation Edward vowed to make at the end of the summer. That alone should make me happy, but I can’t ignore the new questions that have surfaced.

  “My life is a fucking freak show,” I mutter and turn back to my desk.

  Thirty-two

  ANDREW

  A theater employee hands over the movie tickets and I head to the concession stand to purchase the snacks Lilah requested before she went to the bathroom.

  I get in line and rock back on my heels as I stare up at the menu.

  Typically, I’m not a moviegoer. But Lilah’s been on edge lately and I want to help her relax. She’s been talking my head off about a thriller that just came out and I figured a trip to the movies would be just what she needs to take her mind off whatever it is that she won’t tell me about.

  Something’s wrong, but she won’t open up to me. I tell myself that she just needs time to sort it out on her own.

  Reclining seats and greasy food in a dark room should be a step in the right direction. I just want her happy.

  Before I have a chance to examine how I’ve never felt this way before, a commotion comes from the lobby area. When what sounds like Lilah’s voice reaches my ears, I abandon my place in line and rush to find her.

  I’m floored when I reach the lobby.

  It is Lilah. My Lilah. Standing in front of a small group of teenagers and talking animatedly about something that I can’t hear.

  Judging from the stunned looks on their faces I know they aren’t talking about the damn weather. Something’s ticked her off and she’s letting them have it.

  Who the hell had pissed her off? I could wring their necks. Tonight is supposed to be about unwinding, not giving her another reason to stress out.

  Moving in her direction, I clench my jaw ready for war.

  My initial shock turns to admiration when I get close enough to hear what she’s saying.

  “You know, it’s people like you who make this world such a shitty place to live.”

  She moves slightly, just enough to reveal a young woman in a wheelchair who is staring at Lilah with equal parts admiration and astonishment on her face. And that’s when the puzzle pieces start falling in place for me.

  These teens were no doubt poking fun at this young lady and probably would have gotten away with it due to people’s largely apathetic attitudes in today’s world. But they’d clearly met their match in Lilah.

  “Your parents really raised some gems,” she scoffs disgustedly, looking at each of them in turn.

  Her face grows redder by the second as her anger mounts and all I can think about is that I’ve never been more turned on in my life. My initial instinct to intervene has been replaced by raging desire as I watch her handle herself like the powerhouse she is.

  “Chill, lady. It was just a joke,” one of the apparent culprits intones moodily, pushing his long bangs off his face. The humiliation present on his pimpled face is amusing.

  But Lilah doesn’t find it amusing. She’s still pissed and proceeds to chew them out individually. The poor kids are helpless to do anything but stand there and take it as the crowd around them thickens.

  Using her body as a human shield, Lilah remains stationed in front of the woman in the wheelchair and opens her arms wide as if to welcome an attack.

  “Come on,” she invites, her dark ponytail swinging wildly as she looks from face to face. “All the nasty things you had to say about this woman, say it to me. I dare you.”

  I swear one of them gulps. But words aren’t forthcoming as she makes a show of waiting impatiently by tapping her foot.

  Damn, look at her go. I’ve never witnessed this side of her and the level of respect I already had for her grows by leaps and bounds as I watch the scene unfold.

  Sure, I’ve always known Lilah was a spitfire who didn’t take shit, but seeing her so fiercely protective on behalf of a complete stranger unleashes an emotion inside of me that makes my heart miss a beat as my palms grow sweaty.

  After a pregnant pause, Lilah clucks her tongue and nods knowingly.

  “That’s what I thought. Just remember this the next time you open your mouth to belittle someone — whatever insults you hurl at them says more about you than it will ever say about them.”

  The three guilty parties look mortified if not remorseful as they turn to walk away.

  When they’re out of sight, a switch seems to flip for Lilah because she looks around bewilderedly. It’s like she doesn’t know how she got there.

  The woman in the wheelchair says a few quiet words to Lilah and she smiles and blushes in response. They shake hands and the woman makes her way through the thinning crowd. Lilah stands there looking at the woman wheeling herself away and appears lost in thought.

  I step forward and kiss Lilah’s forehead soothingly.

  “You okay?” I ask quietly against her hair. It smells like tangerines today and I inhale deeply not caring about the onlookers in the lobby of a crowded movie theater.

  “I’m fine,” Lilah assures me, looking sheepish.

  “What happened?”

  Granted, I’ve already pieced things together on my own but I still want to hear it directly from the horse’s mouth.

  “Sorry. I don’t know what happened. I was leaving the bathroom one second and the next second I see these assholes harassing an innocent woman. I lost it,” she recaps, avoiding eye contact with me.

  Red stains her cheeks and this time it doesn’t stem from anger. She’s self-conscious.

  What the hell for?

  “God, I’m sorry, Andrew. You must be so ashamed to be out with me. I was already having a shitty week and this pushed me over the edge,” she murmurs under her breath as if she’s talking to herself.

  “Never apologize for being passionate, Cupcake.”

  For the first time since I’ve known her, her full lips quirk at the sound of my nickname for her.

  “Good, because I can’t stand bullies. They make my blood boil.”

  The contempt behind her words lets me know that there’s more to that story but now isn’t the time or place to unpack it all.

  Eyeing the tickets in my hand, Lilah pulls in a calming breath and asks, “Have I made us miss too much of the movie?”

  “Nah, I’m sure the previews are just w
rapping up.” I throw my arm around her shoulders and steer her to the long hallway that houses all the theaters.

  Pride swells my chest as we make our way to theater nine. With Lilah on my arm, I feel like I just won the fucking lottery. You couldn’t wipe the smug smirk off my face if you tried.

  Though I wish she would open up to me about whatever’s got her on edge.

  Thirty-three

  LILAH

  Andrew is breaking traffic laws left and right as we speed to his house after the movie. It feels like we’re in a video game trying to escape after robbing a bank. The only thing missing is the screeching tires.

  I’ve never been more relieved to see his horseshoe driveway come into view.

  He’s out of the car and rounding the front to my side in no time.

  “What’s gotten into you?” I ask when he takes my hand to pull me to him.

  Slamming my door closed, his smoldering eyes bore into mine and make my insides melt.

  He wants me.

  Without a word, his eyes and energy convey the message and I feel my body reacting to this knowledge as my panties grow wetter by the second.

  I’ve never met a man quite as insatiable as Andrew. It doesn’t matter where we are or what we’re doing, if he wants me he will find a way to get us alone so that he can quench his thirst.

  It’s hard not to relish in the fact that it’s me he wants. And so frequently.

  At the door, he makes quick work of the locks and ushers me inside like I’m his prized possession. He doesn’t speak as he closes the door behind us and scoops me into his arms.

  With a small yelp, I wrap my arms around his neck. “Give a girl some warning next time, will you?”

  But I know that my request is pointless as soon as I say it. Andrew is impulsive through and through. When he decides he wants something, he goes after it without the courtesy of notice.

  His extravagant entryway is a blur as he carries me deeper into the house.

  My eyebrow rises when we bypass the grand staircase leading to his bedroom. Instead he stops in front of the door that opens to his studio in the basement.

  Over the course of my countless trips to his house, I’ve never been down there. I just know it exists.

  “Tell me you trust me,” he whispers against my ear, his warm lips teasing me.

  Shivering at the contact, I don’t think twice before saying, “I trust you.”

  It’s true. I trust him with my entire life.

  That’s all the confirmation he needs because he opens the door and starts walking.

  The trip downstairs is smooth as Andrew holds me like I weigh nothing. When we reach the landing, he flips on a light and walks me over to a huge table with tons of canvases and paintbrushes spread out.

  As we get closer, I see the vibrant colors covering each painting and notice that each piece is in a different stage of progress. From conception to completion, they’re all scattered about. The chaos is actually breathtaking.

  Andrew sets me down on my feet and cups my face in his hands.

  “I want to paint you again,” he tells me.

  A swarm of painful memories attack me as I remember how badly this ended the first time we tried this.

  “The last time we did that…” I start, my eyes downturned.

  The last time we did that you left me, I finish in my head.

  “I was an asshole,” he says lowly, expertly reading the expression on my face. “I’ll never do that shit again.”

  The dark promise in his blue eyes in convincing and call me crazy, but I kind of believe him.

  We were in a different place when that happened. We’ve both grown. Right?

  Right.

  “Okay,” I concede, watching him intently.

  His eyes darken to match the night sky before he says, “And you’re going to paint me, too.”

  ***

  Well, this isn’t what I expected.

  At all.

  With Andrew’s lips pressed firmly against my collarbone, my head lolls back, opening me up even more to his onslaught of kisses.

  My body is pure liquid as I yield to what’s happening around me. I am a ball of nerve endings, the intensity of every little action magnified by ten as I savor Andrew’s unwavering touch.

  “You’re a work of art, Lilah.”

  His words are hot against my naked flesh and I quiver as they sink in. I’ve been called beautiful countless times in my life but no one has ever called me a work of art.

  Especially not a man who is a masterpiece himself.

  When he first hands me the bottle of black body paint, I am hesitant. I’m not sure I want to cover the beautiful contours of his physique. But in the end, I take the paint and squirt some onto my hand.

  I cover everything from his shoulders down in inky blackness. Everything except his stiff cock that is…

  He uses a deep crimson color to paint me as I work my hands over each dip and slab of muscle on his body. My heart races from the activity.

  It’s the most sensual foreplay I’ve ever experienced.

  The end result is magnificent. Once we’re both cloaked in paint, he pulls me over to what looks like a white cotton sheet on the floor.

  Anticipation ignites a fire in the pit of my stomach as I wait for what’s to come next.

  Without warning, Andrew drops down onto the sheet and pulls me with him.

  Slowly, he pulls me to a sitting position on his lap and the friction as I slide across his hard thighs is dizzying.

  “Ride me.”

  A torrent of wetness floods my walls at his words, and I don’t think I’ve ever been wetter in my life.

  He kisses me. Hard and deep.

  I return the kiss with both passion and desire. Andrew grips my hips in his powerful hands and raises me above his throbbing shaft.

  As he lowers me onto him, my slick opening stretches to allow the thick head of his dick inside. No matter how many times we fuck, his size is always something I have to get used to.

  Sinking lower, my eyes slip shut as he fills me in the most tantalizing way. From this angle, I’m filled to the hilt and the delicious sensations flitting through me are damn near unbearable.

  Another wave of moisture floods through me, making his girth easier to take as I glide over him.

  Moving tentatively at first, I watch hypnotized as Andrew’s guiding hands fall away from my hips and he leans back slightly, supporting himself with his palms splayed against the white sheet beneath us.

  “Fuck me,” he commands in a raw voice as he waits for me to obey him.

  Pleasurable pain shoots through me as I move down hard on his swollen cock. Spreading my thighs open over his muscular legs, I push myself down as far as possible burying him deep inside of my wetness.

  As I adjust to this new fullness, I’m rewarded by Andrew’s guttural groan.

  “Shit, baby,” he swears throatily, “you feel fucking amazing.”

  I wind my hips in a circular motion and stimulate my engorged clit, needing to feel every inch of his throbbing length. The hair covering his pelvic area adds to the delectable friction, drawing a contented sigh from my lips.

  Reaching back, I brace my hands around his ankles as I begin bouncing up and down with a fervor I can’t explain. But the reckless feeling is becoming familiar now. It’s never too far away whenever I’m within reach of him.

  He ignites a fearless side of me that I never knew existed.

  Hot and sticky, I moan as I slide over him chasing the orgasm that’s building deep in the pit of my stomach.

  The torture playing across Andrew’s face as my tight walls clench all around him spurs me on.

  I open my mouth to announce my impending climax, but I don’t get the chance.

  Without a word, Andrew rolls us over and I find myself on my back.

  Thirty-four

  LILAH

  My body instantly mourns the loss of his cock filling me.

  I’ve never been a beggar b
ut I’m on the brink of pleading with him when Andrew’s hand comes down on my thighs.

  Shoving my legs open, he nudges my swollen opening teasingly, driving me insane. When I lift my hips to close the excruciating gap between us, he moves back at just the right time, denying me the thing I want most.

  His cock.

  That damn smirk is on his face and I could scream.

  He chooses now to play games?

  Inadvertently, my lips form into a pout as he brushes the head of his length against my needy clit.

  “You’re cute when you pout, Cupcake.”

  I roll my eyes and want to give him the finger, but he moves unexpectedly again and flips me onto my stomach. The wind is knocked out of me at the sudden movement.

  As soon as I make contact with the sheet, his hands are at my hips pulling me back to his waiting dick.

  He pushes inside without any resistance from my slippery walls. My hands reach out to grasp the sheets as he begins pumping into me with reckless abandon.

  I writhe underneath him, my body twisting against the sheet in an attempt to escape the pleasurable assault but Andrew reigns supreme when he stills my hips with one skillfully placed hand.

  His cock fills me and then vanishes before he pushes back inside again, forcing a moan from my throat.

  As my head snaps back, I catch a glimpse of the mess we’ve already made. The red and black paint is smeared from one corner of the sheet to the next, evidence of our wild lovemaking.

  I’ve never seen anything like it, and the erotic masterpiece fills me with more desire.

  I never want this to end.

  Andrew’s treatment is fast and hard, his long cock brushing against my nub, providing the perfect amount of friction with each movement.

  I’m on the brink of coming.

  How does he make me feel this way so easily?

  He has complete and total control over my body. I’m powerless to fight the pleasure he gives me and I don’t want to.

  It feels so good. Too good.