by Lacey Black
“Yes,” she whispers.
“Good,” I say, just before ripping them from her body. Her gasp is one of shock and pleasure, and it’s the sweetest music to my ears.
“That’ll cost you,” she shoots back, her legs wrapping around my waist.
“You can bill me, Counselor.”
Bending down, I take her lips again in another bruising kiss. My cock is throbbing, lying heavily against her stomach, waiting. Noel’s legs tighten around my waist, shifting until I feel her wetness against me.
And that’s when it hits me.
I don’t have my wallet.
“Shit,” I grumble, dropping my forehead to rest against hers.
“What?”
“I don’t have my wallet. I left in such a hurry, I left my pants at the community center.” My eyes connect with hers. “I don’t have protection.”
“I have some,” she says softly.
“You do?” Instantly, I’m thinking about all the other assholes she’s been with since I walked away. It’s a picture that floods my mind, and brings me absolutely no comfort. I know there’s no way she’s been celibate since our time together, and Lord knows I haven’t been, but that doesn’t mean I want to actually think about some other jackwad’s hands all over my Noel. Jealousy is a mean bitch.
She turns and reaches for her nightstand. Inside the small drawer, I spot three foil packages. Noel takes the first one and flips it over, reading the back. “Okay, they’re still good,” she says, handing me the rubber.
My eyebrows arch as I gaze down at her beautiful face.
“Umm, I’ve had them for a while, so I just needed to make sure they were still okay,” she says, her face blushing a fierce shade of pink.
“Define a while.”
She clears her throat, a sign I know she’s nervous. “Two years.”
“Two years?” Why does that make me happy? Because I’m a jealous asshole, that’s why.
“Yeah.”
Without saying another word, I bend down and take her lips once again. My hand reaches for the package, and without breaking contact with her sweet, intoxicating mouth, I sheath myself in the protection.
Noel’s arms wrap around my neck as I slowly move to her entrance. Our eyes lock and I wait for her silent approval before I slowly push inside. She’s hot, tight, and so fucking wet that it takes all the strength I possess to keep from ramming home and claiming this woman.
Instead, I move deliberately, slowly, and smoothly, while keeping my eyes locked on hers the entire time. Her eyes are glassy, a look of pure ecstasy written on her face. My pace starts to quicken, and she meets me thrust for thrust.
Eventually, my body’s need for release becomes too great to ignore. I feel her start to grip my shaft, tightening with each drive. Her nails score my back as she moans in pleasure. I’m unable to hold back any longer as I slam into her sweet pussy once, twice, three times until she’s gripping me so tightly my eyes cross.
It’s my name that slips from her lips like a curse and a calling, all at the same time. It’s what drives me to claim those lips as I finally let go. The base of my spine starts to tingle as I thrust into her one last time. I’m completely still as I come for what feels like days, aftershocks of pure pleasure rendering my body boneless.
“Wow,” she whispers, mimicking her earlier response.
I’m lying on top of her, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Her hand absently toys with the hairs on my neck as I struggle to get my breathing under control. “Mmmhmm.”
I nuzzle her neck, which results in a giggle. “That tickles.”
What? I almost ask aloud, when suddenly, I realize I’m still sporting the Santa beard. Funny how you get so used to having some itchy dead animal glued to your face that you completely forget it’s there.
Laughing, I slide my jaw against the exposed column of her neck once more. “You don’t like it?”
“Actually,” she starts before hesitating.
“Actually…”
“I do kind of like it. Maybe not the gray factor, but the roughness is kind of hot. It reminds me of when we were in school and studying for finals. You didn’t shave for a week.”
“And you liked it,” I recall, getting momentarily lost in the pleasure of the memory.
“I did.”
“Maybe I’ll grow a beard,” I suggest, kissing down her throat and across her collarbone.
“I wouldn’t argue if you did,” she whispers, gasping as the beard tickles her chest. “Just not as long as this one.”
“Definitely not as long as this one,” I confirm, making my way to her nipples. “Mmmm,” I groan, lavishing each peak with plenty of attention. “I have an idea. Why don’t we take off the beard. Then we can shower. Together.”
“I like that idea,” she chirps, sliding her leg up my thigh and swinging it over my ass.
“I can tell.”
Together, we head to the shower, where Noel helps me remove the final traces of my Santa appearance. And I help her remove the lingering traces of doubt that may remain, because I’m not going anywhere.
Not now.
Not ever.
I’m right where I belong, and that’s with my little Christmas angel in my arms.
Chapter Twelve
Christmas Eve Redo
Noel
Christmas Eve
We meet in the hallway one last time as we prepare to enter the auditorium of the community center. It’s hard to believe that only five short weeks ago, we were thrown in to this mess together. Well, he was thrown in. I was blackmailed. But anyway, the point is, I couldn’t imagine any of this happening before that fateful court date.
Maybe I should be thankful he ran over that Barbie doll and accosted an elderly woman.
Brandon’s already waiting for me, looking ever so handsome in his costume. No, I would never say I’d find Santa so attractive, but when it’s this one particular man, well, all bets are off. Santa is smokin’ hot.
“Wow, Mrs. Claus, I do believe you look downright naughty in that dress today,” he whispers, taking in the shorter and sparklier dress of the two in the closet.
“Why thank you, Mr. Claus. I happen to believe you’re not looking so bad yourself,” I say, grabbing that thick black belt and tugging it until it’s perfectly centered.
“You know, I think there’s a supply closet down the hall. We could sneak away and maybe have a quickie. I’ve had this image of you bent over a table and I can’t get it out of my mind,” Brandon wiggles his bushy eyebrows, making me laugh hard.
“Sorry, big guy, but the kids are waiting.”
“Damn,” he mumbles before placing a sweet kiss on my still-swollen lips. From the moment we woke Sunday morning, neither of us have been able to keep our hands off each other. We ended up spending the entire day at my apartment, wrapping presents, snuggling on the couch, watching television, or naked and working our way through the box of condoms he ran out and purchased. It has been a wonderful, exhausting twenty-four hours.
Walking down the hall, hand-in-hand, I turn and face the man I’m pretty sure I’m still in love with. “I’m sorry I made you work with kids.”
His eyebrow raises and he gives me a questioning look. “I’m not. It was the best punishment I could have ever received. It gave me you.”
“Yeah, but it also got you peed on, almost puked on, snotted on, and I stopped counting after the thirty-fifth time someone yanked on your fake beard.”
“I did, but do you know what? It wasn’t so bad. I’ll admit, I wasn’t looking forward to any of this, but I don’t know, this whole Santa thing wasn’t so terrible.” He steps forward and wraps his arms around me. I try to return the gesture, but the fat suit beneath his jacket makes it a little difficult. “And it got me thinking.”
“About?”
“The baby.”
I swallow hard. “There was no baby,” I whisper.
“I know, bu
t if there were, she would have been the cutest little blonde with big thick ringlets in her hair and the brightest blue eyes, just like her mother.”
Tears gather in the corners of my eyes. “You think?”
Brandon runs his nose along the side of mine. “I know. And if I’m ever given the chance to be in that situation again, I’d show you just how excited I’d be for you to carry my child. I’d tell you every day how much I love you and how lucky I am that you chose me.”
“You love me?” I whisper, the tears clogging my throat and making it hard to breathe.
“More than I could have ever imagined. Five years hasn’t changed a damn thing,” he answers, kissing the corner of my lips. “In fact, it made me love you even more.”
“I love you too,” I confirm, knowing that I mean those words with every beat of my heart.
“Then let’s go see the kids one last time. It’s Christmas Eve, you know.”
“I do know.”
“This might come as a shock to you, so brace yourself. Even though I look just like him…” Brandon glances around to make sure no one is within earshot. “I’m not the real Santa.”
I gasp, playing along with his big reveal. “You’re not?”
“No. In fact, as soon as the clock hits three, I’m jobless until January second. My law firm always closes for the holidays. For the last few years, I’ve always spent the time playing golf or taking a trip to avoid all that merriment crap. But not this year.”
“No?”
“Nope, I have a delivery to make. I heard you were a naughty Mrs. Claus and so I have something special wrapped up just for you.”
“You do? What is it?”
Dropping his voice, he whispers, “It’s in my pants.”
Laughter bubbles from my throat, and his quickly follows.
“Seriously, I don’t have any plans except to spend as much of the holidays as I can with you.” He places a firm kiss squarely on my lips.
“I’d like that.”
“Good,” he says, taking my hand and leading me towards the entrance, “because you’re not getting away from me this time around. You gave me a second chance, and I’m damn sure not going to fuck it up.”
“I’m going to my parents’ house for Christmas tomorrow.”
“Fine. I’ll go too.”
“My grandma will probably want to pinch your butt.”
“It’s a nice butt. I wouldn’t blame her.”
“She always liked you,” I say with a smile.
“I really liked her. Your entire family, as a matter of fact. And if you’ll have me, I’d love to accompany you to visit your family tomorrow.”
“Okay.” I can’t stop smiling.
“Are you ready?” he asks, grabbing the handle to open the door.
“As I’ll ever be,” I confirm.
“Mrs. Claus?” he asks, moments before pulling it open.
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
“I love you too,” I reply, a wide smile on my face that matches his.
Chapter Thirteen
My Noel
Brandon
She looks up at me with so much love in her eyes that it hurts. It’s a look I hope to always see written within those hypnotic blue orbs. How in the hell did I get so lucky?
Before I open the door, I steal one last kiss from the woman who owns me. Hell, I’m not just talking about now, but for years. From the first moment I saw her in the library (You know, when she told me to get lost?) to now, and all the years we were apart in between, there’s never been anyone but her. And I’m damn lucky she took the chance on me once again.
There’s no way in hell I’d let her down a second time.
Her lips are soft and sweet, and might even be a bit swollen from our earlier Christmas Eve indiscretions. It’s been a long morning already, considering we were up half the night. But after a round of sex in bed after waking up, one in the shower, and one at the front door that resulted in us being fifteen minutes late getting out the door, we’re both standing here with those big cheesy looks on our faces.
It’s her smile that holds all of my attention right now, because this smile is real. Its genuine and happy, and best of all, aimed directly at me. I’m the reason she’s smiling, and for as long as I live, I’ll make sure I keep it that way.
No, it may not be your classic fairytale love story, but this one’s ours. And sometimes you have to fall apart so that you can come back together, better than before. Noel and I aren’t perfect, but we’re perfect for each other. We’ve both made mistakes, and we’ll continue to do so, but as long as we stick together, we can make it through anything.
She’s my Christmas miracle.
The one that got away.
My Noel.
My sexy Mrs. Claus.
Instead of ravishing her in the supply closet the way I’d prefer, I know we have a job to do. Or a community service order to complete, as the judge would say. So instead of throwing her over my shoulder, I open the door. With the woman I love’s hand firmly in my own, I raise my hand to wave and take a step inside the room.
“Ho Ho Ho! Merry Christmas!”
Epilogue
Christmas Eve
Mrs. Claus (AKA Noel)
5 Years Later
This is, by far, my favorite time of year. The lights, the tree, the Santa pin placed poignantly over my heart all contribute to the joy I feel today: Christmas Eve. But, for as wonderful as those things are, they aren’t the main reason I love this holiday.
Brandon holds our three-year-old daughter, Olivia, up and helps her guide the star up to the top of the tree. Even though the decorations have been up for weeks, we started a tradition four years ago on Christmas Eve when we, together, placed the star at the top of the tree on our wedding night. Our own version of a unity candle.
When I think back over the last five years, I smile like a loon who drank too much spiked egg nog. Brandon changed the course of our future at that community center five years ago. Ever since that day, we were inseparable: engaged over the summer, married on Christmas Eve, and even giving birth to our sweet daughter exactly one year after we said I do.
Our dark haired, blued eyed angel came screaming into the world after only fourteen hours of labor. The moment that red, wrinkly girl was placed into my arms, I knew what unconditional love was. With the exception of the color of her eyes, Livie is the spitting image of her father. They have the same mannerisms and stubborn disposition that when they go head-to-head over little things like bath time or putting her socks on, it’s comical just to sit back and watch.
Brandon glances at me over his shoulder, waiting for my approval of the star’s placement. It’s crooked, of course, but I don’t care. “It’s perfect,” I tell them with a big smile.
“You’re perfect,” he whispers, placing a tender kiss on my temple before placing a matching one on Livie’s forehead.
“Hardly,” I retort, reaching down to grab the empty box.
“Maybe not, but you’re perfect for me,” he says with his own big grin.
I can’t help myself. Dropping the box, I step into his arms and tuck myself firmly at his side. Livie reaches over and grabs the pin on my sweater. “Santa!” she exclaims, which brings matching smiles to our faces.
Brandon made partner at his law firm two years ago. He works hard, billing as many hours as he can without selling his soul to the business. He’s home most nights by six o’clock, and even takes vacation days leading up to Christmas to help with the Christmas shopping, and holiday gatherings.
I cut back my hours at the DA’s office when Livie was born. Even though I have a successful career, my focus shifted with my pregnancy. I still work two to three days a week, depending on the caseload, and that’s enough for me. I’m available to take Livie to daycare and pick her up every day. On my off days, we spend time together reading books, baking treats, or just playing in the blanket fort
she insists on building almost daily.
But for as busy as our lives have become, there’s always one thing we still make time to do: volunteer at the community center. Brandon and I have played Santa and Mrs. Claus since that fateful winter, five years ago. Even on our wedding day (which was technically night, since the ceremony was at eight p.m.), we still made time to volunteer. It’s our thing.
“You about ready for bed?” Brandon asks our daughter.
“Cookies!” she exclaims, pointing to the end table where we just set out three freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and a tall glass of cold milk.
“The cookies are ready, sweetie. Santa is going to love them,” I confirm, glancing at my husband.
“Santa does love mommy’s cookie,” he says with a naughty smirk and a waggle of his eyebrows.
I laugh and reach for the book that is sitting on the couch, waiting to be read. My heart rate kicks up a million beats per second as I hold the newer version of my favorite book, ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas. (Remember the copy Brandon had in his bag at the bookstore? He gave that to me for Christmas that year, and I’ve read it every year since.)
Together, as we’ve done on her birthday for the last three years, we sit down on the couch. Brandon sits Livie down on his lap and wraps his arm around my shoulder. Opening the first page, I snuggle into his embrace and begin to read.
‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house…
I read with excitement, but this time, it’s not just the book. There’s a surprise waiting for Brandon and Livie on the last page. As I turn each page, getting closer and closer to my surprise, I notice a slight tremor to my hands. They’re nerves of enthusiasm and nothing more. There’s no need to worry about his reaction. I already know what it’ll be.
Finally, I flip that page.
And read the slightly edited ending of the story.
“But I heard her exclaim as she hugged those she holds dear, baby Frost will be making his or her appearance next year.”
Right below the new words is an ultrasound picture from yesterday’s appointment.