by Tory Baker
“Is it you? Because if so, I need to give my realtor a bonus for finding this house.”
“I uh… What? No,” I answer, completely flustered now. “I made you some cookies… you know… for Christmas,” I answer—rather lamely.
“Isn’t that a coincidence,” he says, bending his head to lean down closer to me. He’s so tall. So. Impossibly. Tall. And big. So. Epically. Big.
“It is?” I ask, biting my lip trying to remember if I’ve ever seen eyes like his before. They look like warm caramel.
“I was just wondering what your cookie would taste like,” he says and I’ve not dealt with many men before. I’ve had a boyfriend here or there, but my business always came first. This is the first man I’ve met that makes me feel like that might have been a mistake. Still, I get the feeling when he says cookie, he’s not talking about the ones I’ve baked and a shiver runs through me.
“I… they’re traditional sugar cookies,” I tell him, trying to get control of the conversation again.
“I knew they’d taste sweet,” he answers, grinning. He finally takes the box into his hand. The very hand he had wrapped around his cock. Jesus.
“My name is Joy. I run the local bakery in town. Comfort and Joy?” I tell him, at this point feeling like I’m blathering on like an idiot.
“Nice play on Christmas,” he says, studying me closely and this time I can’t really guess what he’s thinking.
“That was the thought. I’m kind of a Christmas freak.”
“Is that a fact?”
“Yeah. It’s kind of a running joke in town. They call me Christmas Joy, because I like to go around and spread the Christmas cheer…”
“Spread…”
“Anyway, I know moving can be hectic and things. I’m right next door if you’d like help getting moved in or maybe putting up your Christmas decorations or whatever. I’m your girl.”
“You certainly are,” he says and his voice is so intense, I step back on reflex.
“Well, I… I guess I should go. Remember my offer,” I tell him, feeling like a fool. I back away and he turns to watch me with a big grin on his face. I literally back all the way to my yard.
“Trust me, Joy. I’m not about to forget your offer,” he says and those shivers I’ve been feeling intensify all at once.
For some reason, that felt like a warning…
4
Eb
I hate Christmas. I always have. My grandmother used to say my parents jinxed me by making my middle name Eben. She hated it and always said it was too close to Ebenezer. I didn’t really give a fuck, though I found myself glad I didn’t pack around the name Ebenezer my whole life. That would suck fucking ass. I’m not too fond of Eben, but I also don’t spend much time thinking about it.
I write under the name E.B. Mason and that name I like, because that name makes money and really that’s the only thing that matters. I need to go finish my book, but little Joy has me wishing I could do something else. Her, actually. She’s a hot little package and I bet she’d be sweet as hell to sink into. She wouldn’t put up much of a fight either. She was practically begging to be fucked right here on my doorstep. I have the urge to tie her up and make her beg me to fuck her. That idea is infinitely more appealing than going back to writing.
Maybe I could take a few days off? I mean I have a deadline, but my brain is fried. It’s Christmas. Everyone deserves a little time off. It doesn’t matter that I hate the holiday. I mean I do hate everything about it, but that’s not important right now. I don’t hate my new neighbor. Hell, I’m liking so much about her, I’m willing to ignore her love of this god awful holiday. Who knows? Maybe she could make me change my mind. If she fucks as good as she looks…
I find myself grinning. I need a hook. I don’t have a lot of time, and I can’t afford to waste much on my hot neighbor. She definitely seems like she needs a good fuck, and that’s half the battle. She wants to help me decorate for Christmas? I can let her decorate her little heart out and then after I make sure she leaves my bed crying out, O’ holy night, I’ll get back to work.
That seems simple. And my cock is rock hard imagining it.
I go back inside, closing my door, still thinking about it. I go back to my computer, but for once, I ignore my manuscript. Instead, I find myself searching lingerie. Lingerie for a certain little blond neighbor that I’m going to enjoy putting on the naughty list. I know exactly what I’m looking for and almost laugh out loud when I find it. Sexy little red and white silk, barely-there, corset, panties and matching garters. If Santa was real, this is exactly what he’d make Mrs. Claus wear to their bed.
She likes Christmas? I can definitely make that work for me. And I definitely know that this Christmas, for once, I’m going to enjoy spreading Christmas Joy.
Fuck yeah I will.
5
Joy
I come awake with a start. I look over at the clock, my eyes blurry with sleep. It’s seven in the morning… on a Sunday. Two days after I’ve made a fool of myself in front of my new neighbor, and two days in which he still hasn’t put up one trace of a decoration. It’s a silly thing really, but ever since I moved into my house our street has won the annual Christmas trophy. At this point, it’s a source of pride. There’s no way we will win this year—not with my neighbor’s house being completely undecorated. There might be bigger problems in this world, but it makes me sad.
My doorbell rings again and I remember why I woke in the first place. I look again at the clock.
Who even gets up at seven in the morning on a Sunday?!?!
It’s my one day of the week to be sloth-Joy. I stand up, shivering without the covers as the cool air of the house hits me. I look mournfully at my sheets and favorite blanket as my doorbell goes off again.
“Alright! Hang on! Keep your pants on!” I grumble. There’s a terrible secret about me that no one knows. I may love Christmas and everything about it, but there’s nothing cheerful and joyful about me in the mornings. I have to have at least two cups of coffee before any of the real me starts shining through. I grab my ratty old robe off the side of my bed, wrapping it around me like a security blanket. It’s warm cotton, and at one time I think it was a vibrant red. It’s so old and has been washed so many times it’s a pale pink now.
I look through the peephole, and I have to hold onto the door to keep from falling.
My neighbor is outside! My sexy neighbor is outside my house at seven in the morning looking freaking amazing and, and…
And shit! I’m here without my hair brushed, in my ratty old robe, and I probably have morning breath! Shit!
I push my hand through my hair, trying to comb it with my fingers. I’m positive it doesn’t, but at least I tried. I try to make a mental note not to breathe on him, or talk a lot just in case he might be able to smell my breath. I paste on a fake smile and then I open the door—all while searching for something cool and fun to say.
“Um… hi,” I say and bang the side of my head gently against the door, wondering what it is about this man that makes my brains go as limp as a wet noodle.
“Hey Christmas Joy. You’re looking pretty this morning,” he says—obviously lying through his perfect, white teeth. Good gravy, how does one get teeth that perfect? Are they fake? I doubt anything on this man is fake.
“Hey… umm…”
“Eb.”
“Eb?”
“That’s my name,” he says, laughing.
“Oh… I’m Joy.”
“Yeah. You are.”
I’m wishing the ground would swallow me up. Is that really so much to ask?
“Why are you here?” I ask, and I wouldn’t have thought it was possible, but now I feel even more stupid.
“Is your offer still open?”
I really can’t think this early. I’m racking my brain trying to figure out I offered him. As stupid as I go around him, I might have offered to wash his body… with my tongue.
“Um…”
“If it’s not, that’s totally fine, it’s just I could really use Christmas Joy’s help,” he says, looking like a sad little puppy who lost his favorite chew toy.
Those eyes… those damn eyes of his.
“What offer?” I ask, drowning in deep pools of caramel.
“To help me decorate?” he asks and my heart speeds up.
“You want to decorate your house?” I question, shock coloring my voice.
“Well, everyone else is, I thought maybe I should.”
“For Christmas?” I add, like a fool.
“Is there another holiday I don’t know about?”
“Um… No. No, that’s the only one.”
God. I’m such a dummy.
“Then, yes. Definitely for Christmas.”
“I want to help!” I practically shout.
“I was hoping.” He laughs and he must think I’m a loon after all of this, but instead of making me feel worse, he gives this smile that reaches those caramel eyes of his and I feel like a big melted pool of goo.
“What did you have in mind?” I ask, and for the first time in a long time, Christmas is not what I’m thinking about.
“I was hoping you could go shopping with me and help pick out my decorations and…”
“And a tree?”
“A tree?” he asks, clearly surprised.
“You have to have a Christmas tree!”
“I do?”
“A big one! You have those amazing windows in the front of your house. A big tree would look awesome there.
“It would?” he asks, and I think I’ve shell-shocked him.
“Definitely. If you give me a bit to get ready, we can go to town today,” I tell him, suddenly very excited.
“That sounds good,” he says, but his voice sounds more reserved than earlier. For some reason I think he might be hesitant on getting a tree. Surely that can’t be it? Maybe he just doesn’t want a big one? Some people like small trees or even porcelain ones. The thought that Eb might be like that makes me sad. Hopefully, I can steer him the right way with a little work.
“I’ll get ready and come to your house in about an hour. Is that okay?”
“That sounds great,” he whispers, and he brings his finger up to touch along the side of my face.
It’s by sheer willpower alone that I bite into my lip and don’t move my mouth to suck his finger.
Sheer-freaking-willpower.
This may be a long day.
6
Eb
Shit, Joy has some fucking amazing tits. I couldn’t see them yesterday, but today they are up close and personal. She’s wearing jeans and another sweater today, this one gray, but it has a V-neck and every time she moves it dips into the valley of these perfect C-cup tits. They make me want to bury my head in them like a kid diving for apples. That view alone is enough to make this entire shopping torture worth it.
And then there are moments like this…
“Joy? What do you think about this?” I ask, leaning over to look at the most horribly, obscene tree I can find. It’s only about a foot tall, made entirely of pink foil and clearly hidden at the bottom of a shelf on purpose.
For some unknown reason, Joy has made it her life’s mission to help me find a Christmas tree. I don’t want a tree. When I decided to seduce little Miss Christmas Joy out of her Christmas cookies—so to speak—I felt it was a big enough concession to have shit littering my lawn. There was no way I wanted the decorating to infiltrate my house. I was going to tell her hell no. Then, the strangest thing happened.
I enjoyed my time with her. It was fun watching her get so hyped up about the decorations and I’m finding myself having fun. What’s even better, are times like this.
Joy moves in front of me and leans over to look at the sad little fake tree.
First my gaze goes to her tits, because if I angle my head just right, I can see her tits in that pale pink silk bra she’s wearing. It’s a damn good view and I love the way her tits are doing their best to get out of the bra. Overfilling the cups is a real thing and definitely a great problem for Joy to have. Still, even that isn’t as great as what comes next.
My gaze slowly travels down her back to her ass. She’s leaning over to look at the shelf. And she’s in the perfect position for me to fuck her doggy style. Those jeans are stretched across that juicy ass and it’s enough to make a man beg. I can’t tear my eyes away. To be honest, her ass is just that good.
“Damn that’s a nice view. Am I right?” I look beside me to see another man, his gaze trained on Joy’s ass and I don’t like it. It’s okay for me to look at her ass. Hell, I’ve been having her bend over the whole day to look at shit, for that sole reason.
It’s not okay for another man to be looking at her ass. It’s not that I’m territorial—or rather I haven’t been before. It’s just the fact, that this is the ass I’ve now invested time in and an ass I’m definitely going to tap and therefore… mine.
“Look elsewhere,” I growl, keeping my voice quiet, so Joy doesn’t hear us talking.
“Are you crazy? There’s nothing in this fucking store even close to that view. Damn a man would give his right nut to come home to that ass every night,” the guy says a little too loudly.
Luckily, Joy has no idea because she’s busy talking about the shelf being overcrowded and not seeing what I’m talking about. To quickly end this conversation, I hit this asshole in the stomach. When he starts to bitch, I hit him hard in the mouth and he goes back with a thud.
“Oh my God! What happened?” Joy asks, standing up and that’s another reason to hate this bastard. I didn’t get to enjoy her ass longer. People go around the man who is now lying on the floor—moaning, but that’s about it.
“Some guy passed out, hit his face on the way down,” I shrug. “I think I’d rather have a real tree,” I invent to distract her as I steer her away. I don’t really want to explain why I knocked the guy out and if he starts spouting shit again, I can’t be responsible for what I might do to him.
“Oh, okay…” Joy says looking over her shoulder at the man. Finally, she turns to look at me. A live tree is a great idea and they smell divine. Besides…” she stops with a frown, her face studying me. “You can’t have that tree, Eb.”
“I can’t?”
“No. It’s hideous and I say that with love. There is not one redeeming thing about that tree.”
“It’s made out of recyclable material,” I offer, feeling helpful.
“From what? An explosion at the Hello, Kitty factory?”
Her response makes me laugh. Again, it surprises me how much I really like being around her. She’s funny and cute, which is a strange combination when her body is made for sin.
I look at my watch and try to hide my smile.
“So, I guess we’re saying no to the trees right now, because the lot will be closed since it’s Sunday.” I tell her, slightly relieved.
“I guess so,” she sighs almost sounding broken hearted and making me feel guilty for not picking one of the fifty that she showed me. “I haven’t given up hope that eventually we will find one we can agree on. At least we got some lights and lawn decorations.”
“At least there’s that,” I answer, feeling sad that my lawn is going to look like Santa’s sleigh vomited on it. “I’m hungry. You feel like grabbing some lunch before we go back and start decorating?” I suggest.
I want to spend more time with her and there’s the added bonus that I really should eat now. If I wait until all that crap has to be put up in my yard, I’ll probably lose my appetite.
“I’d really like that,” she answers, smiling at me. She’s got dimples. I hadn’t noticed those before. And, her eyes sparkle a bright, deep blue that reminds me of the water in Cabo, and in that moment I almost like her eyes more than her ass.
It might be time to start worrying about little Miss Christmas Joy.
7
Joy
I can’t believe what a great time I’m having wi
th Eb. He’s funny and attentive and he keeps touching me. It’s nothing really out of the way. He puts his hand on my back as we walk, he brushes hair from my face, or he holds my hand. I’ve never had a man be this attentive before. It makes me feel… special.
I was delighted he asked me out to eat. I really didn’t want our time together to end. We walk to the local café and we find a small table by a window. Outside the window is a huge juniper tree that the city has decorated. I watch the lights twinkling and smile.
“You really love this Christmas shit, don’t you?” Eb asks and he sounds surprised. I turn to look at him in shock.
“It’s the most wonderful time of the year,” I answer, laughing. “Don’t you like it?” I ask him after a little bit of silence. I’m confused, if he doesn’t actually like Christmas then I don’t understand why I am here.
“Of course I do,” he says, looking around the café. “If I didn’t there’d be no reason for you to decorate for me… right?” he says, his gaze coming back to me.
“Right,” I tell him, but I feel like I’m missing something in this conversation. There’s like a strange undercurrent that I’m not grasping.
The waitress comes and takes our order and I try my best to shake it off. Today has been so great, I’m sure I’m just being silly.
“I hate that we didn’t find a tree, but your yard is going to look so pretty! Our street will definitely win the annual trophy!”
“Trophy?” Eb asks.
“The city of Juniper gives out a trophy every year to the street with the best decorations.”
“Who gets the trophy?”
“They have it on display at City Hall for everyone to see. Our street has a history of winning it,” I tell him proudly.
“There’s no money reward? You do it for a trophy?”