How My Neighbor Stole Christmas

The houses were dark; fluffy snow filled the air.

Cindy and Taran dreamed sweet dreams without care.

“I must be quiet, and I must be quick,” Storee hissed.

Tonight, she was resolved to have her pussy kissed.

I bounce on my feet, the cold seeping through my pajamas since I didn’t wear a jacket out of fear of it being too loud as I escaped.

I waited until Taran and Aunt Cindy both retired to their rooms, then texted Cole for a good hour and a half. When I heard nothing coming from Taran’s room, I snuck down the stairs, sliding on the banister because the stairs were too creaky, and then slipped out the front door, leaving it unlocked. I sent up a prayer for it to still be unlocked when I returned.

“What the hell is he doing?” I mutter as I shiver all the way down to my bones.

Just then the door unlocks and opens. I don’t give him a second to say a thing. I’m in the house and in front of the fire before he can even welcome me inside.

“Jesus, man, it’s freezing out there.”

He chuckles and shuts the door. “Sorry, I was making you some hot chocolate.” He lifts a cup from the coffee table and hands it to me. I quickly wrap my hands around the warm ceramic, letting it heat me.

“Thank you, this smells amazing.”

He guides me back to the couch, and before I can protest at being pulled away from the fire, he places a blanket over my lap and then slides in next to me, where he drapes his arm over my shoulders and pulls my back up against his chest, offering me some body heat.

“This okay?” he asks. “Are you comfortable?”

“Very,” I say as I snuggle into him. “Thank you.” I take a sip of the hot chocolate after blowing on it a few times and let the warm liquid flow down my throat, warming me from the inside out.

When I lower the mug, he nudges my head to turn toward him, and when I do, he lightly presses his lips to mine, sweetly taking the kiss he so rightfully deserved when I snuck into his house a few seconds ago.

When he releases, he sighs with a goofy grin. “That will never get old.”

I lean into him again and take another sip of my drink. “It won’t.”

He loops his free arm around my waist, his hand resting on my stomach as we stare at the tree we decorated together.

“I know I said it a million times in text messages, but your tribute to your parents was so heartwarming, Cole. I get emotional every time I think about it. How did you hold it together?”

“Barely,” he says. “Any time we practiced, I was fine, but something about what we wore and having my parents projected behind us got to me. Originally, it was supposed to be just a picture frame, but at the last minute Max remembered they had a projector and made it happen. We went last because he was trying to figure it all out with the café.”

“I think the projected picture made it that much better. Seriously, it was amazing. How do you feel afterward?”

“Good. Relieved that it’s over. But also proud. My mom always loved listening to me sing when we were in the car together. She would turn the music down subtly so she could hear me better.”

“I don’t blame her. You have such a rich voice. Very sexy.”

“Sexy, huh?” he asks, his hand splaying across my stomach. “Should I sing for you some more?”

“You know, I wouldn’t be opposed to it. Do you know who you sound like?”

“Who?”

“Hayes Farrow. The same rich voice, deep and sultry. I swear you two could do a duet and sound like the same person.”

“Are you a Hayes Farrow fan?”

“Yes,” I gush. “I love him so much. And he just came out with a Christmas album this year. I’ve been listening to it a lot.”

“Yeah?” he asks. “Let me pull it up.”

He leans forward, shifting us as he reaches for his phone, then settles us back on the couch. He connects his phone to the Bluetooth speaker in the living room and searches for Hayes Farrow’s Christmas album. He stares at the cover art for a second and then leans forward to look at me.

“You know, I never knew what he looked like. Is this why you like him?”

“I mean, I like him for his music, but his face doesn’t hurt to look at.”

Cole chuckles and presses play on the first song, a slow, melodic rendition of “Let it Snow.”

“The entire album is acoustic, so it’s a very chill sort of Christmas, none of the bells and whistles that go into a big production of Christmas albums. Probably why I think you sound so much like him.”

“Yeah, I can hear it,” he says as we listen to the song together. “He has a much better voice than me, though. More controlled.”

“I bet if you practiced as much as he does, you wouldn’t think that.”

“Are you saying you want me to get into the music business?” he asks, his lips briefly finding my neck.

“No,” I say, chills racing down my arm from his mouth. “I like you the way you are. The grump who takes care of the reindeer and plays with candy canes during sex.”

He chuckles. “Would you still classify me as a grump? I don’t think I’ve had very grumpy tendencies as of late.”

“That’s because I’ve blown joy back into you…through your penis.”

He nearly chokes on his hot chocolate, sputtering and coughing as he leans forward, a chuckle in his throat.

“Jesus,” he says after a few seconds. “Warn a guy, Storee.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” I smile over the rim of my mug before taking another sip of my hot chocolate.

“Clearly none. And since you brought it up, yes, you’ve blown me a lot, and I’ve liked every second of it. Best blowing of my goddamn life.”

“I’m oddly proud of myself.” I laugh.

“I’m proud of you too, especially the use of your hands while said blowing is being done.”

“You know, that’s a new addition to my process. Particularly the massaging of the balls. There was something about your balls that really made me want to try. I’m glad it was enthusiastically accepted.”

“Very,” he says, mirth in his voice. “Like, very well received.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear it. It’s always nice to get positive feedback about your work.”

“It is…which leads me to see if there is any sort of feedback you want to give me.”

I turn just enough to see the smile tugging on his lips. “From the way I came on your face last time we were together, I don’t think you need any feedback. I think you know you’re doing well.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, I know, just fishing for compliments.”

“You’re better than that, Cole.”

“I’m really not.” He kisses the top of my head. “So, change of subject because if we keep talking about this, I’m going to want to test out the theory of how good I am, and I’m trying not to maul you first thing.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you did, but I get it. What’s your change of subject?”

“What are your family’s Christmas traditions?”

“Umm, I mean, we always came here to Kringle. We would make gingerbread with Aunt Cindy. We’d sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to Baby Jesus Fonz on Christmas Day.”

“Really?” Cole laughs.

“Yeah, that was Aunt Cindy’s doing.” I sip from my mug and stare at the lights of the tree as I continue. “Aunt Cindy brought out her scrapbooking supplies every year, and we’d have a day where we’d make pages for the pictures we took the year before. There were pictures of us on Christmas and everything that we did that holiday season, but there would also be pictures of what Aunt Cindy did before we arrived. A good mixture. I enjoyed the scrapbooking. That was fun. And then on Christmas, Taran and I would have to wait in our rooms until we were called down. Mom, Dad, and Aunt Cindy would stand at the bottom of the stairs, recording us as we came down the stairs and saw all the gifts. I don’t know how Mom and Dad did it, but we always had the best Christmases with the best presents. What about you?”

“Same,” he says softly. “Well, about the presents, not about the scrapbooking or singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to the Fonz masquerading as baby Jesus.” We both laugh. “They were thoughtful with their gifts. Some of my favorites were things I never thought about wanting.”

“Like what?” I ask.

“Well, there was this marble baseball game my dad got me one year. It’s a piece of wood that has been lasered into, turned into a baseball field, with a scoreboard, and a little chart spelling out different rolls of dice up top and what they meant. So if I rolled two ones, that would be a home run. Or a two and a three, that would be a strikeout. It was all luck, but oh my God, we had so much fun playing. And we would play every Christmas Eve eve.”

“Christmas Eve eve? Why then?”

“Because Christmas Eve was about the town, but Christmas Eve eve was about us as a family. For the past ten years, I’ve taken the game over to Max’s place, and we usually play until very late at night. We’ll do a whole playoff bracket. We name the teams and work through the bracket until we get to the World Series. The last three years, Max has won, but I’m thinking this year I can claim the title.”NôvelDrama.Org copyrighted © content.

“I love that,” I say. “Is that the one thing you kept doing every year?”

I feel him nod. “Yeah. But it wasn’t my idea. It was Max’s. He brought me over to his house one Christmas Eve eve, and he’d got his own board because he wasn’t sure I wanted to play on mine. But yeah, we always play, eat junk food, drink, and then pass out in his living room.”

“Right on the floor?” I ask.

“Nah, Mrs. Maxheimer has blow-up mattresses for us that she insists we use after the one year we slept on the floor and woke up with bad backs, despite being in our mid-twenties. She said never again, so yeah, now it’s blow-up mattresses. The last two years, Max has purchased us matching pajamas, and of course Mrs. Maxheimer has eaten up that opportunity to take pictures.”

“That’s so sweet. I love your relationship with Atlas. You guys seem so much closer than Taran and me, and she’s my actual sister. We’ve just always been sort of different. Ever since we were little. We aren’t that far apart in age, but she’s more rigid, more serious, and I’ve kind of just gone with the flow. I think it’s hard for us to relate. That doesn’t mean I don’t love her, though. Just kind of wish I was as close with her as you are with Atlas.”

“Maybe you can be. Have you tried to get closer with her since you’ve been here?”

“I mean, there have been moments, but as soon as Taran’s fixated on something, she won’t let it go, so it’s hard to actually hang out. So now that she’s all in on this competition, nothing else matters. Of course, Aunt Cindy gets the treatment she needs, so Taran’s priorities right now are Aunt Cindy and the Kringle competition. I don’t think there’s any bonding with her sister on that list.”

“Well, maybe after the competition is over,” he suggests.

“Possibly. I actually got her a few puzzles for Christmas since we used to love doing them together. Maybe we can do one Christmas Day and chat.”

“That’s a good idea. Ease her in with a puzzle. Is she seeing anyone?”

“Yes, she has a boyfriend back in Denver. His name is Guy. He’s nice, from what I’ve seen. She doesn’t talk about him much, but I think that’s because she’s also pretty private. I don’t know, she’s just different. Or maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m the hard one to talk to.”

“No, that’s not the case. I’ve had no problem talking to you over the years.”

“You are the one person I seemed to always be able to talk to,” I say. “I’m a bit of a homebody. I talk to my ficus, Alexander. But he’s not much of a conversationalist.”

He chuckles, his chest rumbling against my back. “Maybe he’s just a good listener.”

“The best kind.”

We’re silent for a moment as Hayes Farrow starts singing “White Christmas” in the background.

“What about your parents? Are they going to come here for Christmas?” he asks.

“No,” I answer. “They have a timeshare in Cancun that they visit during the holidays. They’ve become accustomed to Christmas on the beach, decorating a palm tree with ornaments, and being able to get a nice holiday tan.”

“Wonder what that’s like,” Cole says. “I don’t think that’s something I’d want to experience. I’ve just always seen Christmas as a time when you cozy up in front of the fireplace, under a blanket, with some hot chocolate.”

“Same,” I reply. “Like this right here, this moment with you, it’s ideal, and I truly hate that I stayed away for so long. I love everything about this, about being here, about feeling the spirit of the season.” I curl in closer to him, and he kisses the top of my head. “I never want to leave.”

Cole

I never want to leave…

That sentence has been on repeat in my head all night.

Because I don’t want her to leave either. I want her to want to stay here in this year-round Christmas town. I want her to love it here like I do. And I want…hell, I want to be with her.

And the unknown of whether or not that’s an option is scary. Terrifying, actually.

“Where do you plan on spending Christmas?” she asks, now resting her head on my lap while I play with her hair.

“With the Maxheimers. They’ve taken me in, and we’re family at this point. When I spent my first Christmas with them, they showered me with gifts. I told them it wasn’t necessary, but Mrs. Maxheimer doesn’t really listen all that well when it comes to gift-giving. As Max and I got older, she began lessening the gifts, and now it’s usually some homemade cookies, a new flannel shirt, and then a special gift she saw sometime during the year that she thought I would like. She really enjoys getting Max and me matching flannel shirts.”

She chuckles. “God, I love that so much. I wish you’d both wear them together.”

“We’ve accidentally done it before, and of course Max then goes around town asking who wore it better. Let me tell you, it’s always me.”

“Oh, you would get my vote.” Her beautiful eyes stare up at me.

“I’d better.”

My other hand rests on her stomach while I casually run my fingers through her hair, which she seems to enjoy.

“Did you get your aunt Cindy anything for Christmas?”

“No, actually.” She tugs on her lip. “I probably should. Hmm, maybe I should go to Baubles and Wrappings and find something for her. It’s like a Christmas emporium there.”

“That’s what the Dankworths were going for.”

“They’re odd people, yeah?” Storee asks.

“The fucking weirdest,” I say, and we both laugh.

“And they live across the street, right?”

“Yup,” I confirm. “During the summer, they will march out into the yard like the Von Trapp family in their matching outfits and practice their caroling.”

“Are their outfits made of old curtains?”

“You know, sometimes I wonder.”

She chuckles. “So they just sing out front? Weird.”

“Yup, at oh-six-hundred hours.”

Her mouth drops open. “Six in the morning?”

“Oh yeah. Martha and Mae lose their shit about it. They never say anything because it wouldn’t be very Christmas Kringle-ly of them, but they bitch to the entire neighborhood. Between me, your aunt, Frank, and Thachary, they are ready to start buying T-shirt cannons and blasting them from behind. Their words, not mine.”

Storee snorts. “Oh, that’s not very Christmas Kringle-ly of them at all.”

“Nope. But I don’t blame them. There have been many weekends when I wake up to their singing, and it makes me want to crack my skull. I don’t even know why it’s during the summer. They’re homeschooled, so it’s not like they can’t do it any other time of the year. But it’s torturous.”

“How many kids do they have?”

“Seven,” I answer.

“Seven?” Storee’s eyes widen. “My God, what are they doing with seven children?”

I chuckle. “You make it sound like they collected them.”

“Didn’t they? Seven children, my goodness. That’s their own choir. A basketball team with two extra players. A full-on tug-of-war team.”

“Tug-of-war?”

“I don’t know. That’s just a lot of kids. What do they do with all of them?”

“Have them sing Christmas carols in the front yard at six in the morning during the summer.”

“A travesty.”

“Yeah, well, they also put on part of the Christmas festivities at Ornament Park. They sing a few songs, and Bob Krampus loves it. He sits on his Santa throne, drinks hot chocolate, and delights in their melodies. Not to mention, the Dankworths also are judges in the Super Santa Speed Round.”

“They are?” she asks.

“Yup, well, just the parents—not the whole basketball team. Along with Bob himself and Martha and Mae.”

“Is that why you’ve been buddying up to Martha and Mae and feeding their hearts with this romantic farce between us?”

“I would hardly say the way we’ve been fucking has been a romantic farce.” I slip my hand under her shirt, letting my palm press against her warm skin.

“You know what I mean. The whole situation is so convoluted. It started as a farce, became a reality, but is still a farce to some, a reality to others. I don’t know what the heck is going on.”

I slide my hand up her stomach, loving how warm she is. “It has been confusing, but I think I’ve been doing a good job playing the role of the enemy in front of your sister.”

“Uh, have you not witnessed my incessant eye rolling whenever you’re around Taran and me? I’m surprised my eyes are still attached.”

“You’ve done a good job, but I think I’ve been winning for the both of us with my quick barbs and then out-of-the-blue kisses. They always seem to catch you off guard.”

“They do…but I love them.”

“You do, do you?” I ask as I slide my hand below her breast. Since she’s not wearing a bra, I run my thumb over the underside, reveling in her soft skin.

“I do,” she says as she wiggles against me, trying to get my hand to go up farther.

“What do you think it’s going to be like when we tell everyone the truth?”

“You know, I haven’t really thought about it,” she says as I glide my thumb a little higher, right below her nipple. Her teeth pull on her lip.

“I have. I’ve thought about how people from all over, including your aunt and sister, will cheer for us and tell us what a marvelous couple we make.”

“Marvelous?” She lifts a brow.

I take that moment to graze her hard nipple with my thumb. She exhales loudly.

“Am I not allowed to use the word marvelous?”

“I mean, it doesn’t fit the lumberjack aesthetic you have going on.”

“Oh, sorry.” I pause, letting my thumb graze over her nipple again. “Uh, how about a growl with an added People will like us.”

She laughs. “Much better.”

I then return my hand to her stomach and love the disappointment in her eyes. But she’s not disappointed for long as I play with the waistline of her pants. My fingers drag over the fabric, occasionally dipping under.

“Are you trying to turn me on?” she asks.

“Is it working?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” I say, then just rest my hand on her stomach, not moving north or south.

“Cole.”

“What?”

“What are you doing?”

“Thinking about the cheering and how Taran will shake my hand for a job well done with our faking—but then tell me how happy she is that I’m with her sister.”

“Wow, you’re living in a dream world. Taran would never.”

“Never say never. I can see the way she looks at me. She wants to welcome me into the family.”

She chuckles. “You’ve lost your—oh God,” she moans as I slide my hand down, stopping just above her pussy, toying with her. Her legs spread, and she presses her hand on top of mine, trying to make me go further, but I don’t.

“Cole…please.”

But I don’t listen. I take the hem of her long-sleeved shirt and drag it up. Thankfully, she allows me to take it off and drop it to the floor. I stare down at her bare chest and feel myself go hard.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” I say as I gently dance my fingers across her breasts, loving just how fucking hard her nipples are. “I love seeing you like this, surrendering to me, letting me play with you.”

“I love it,” she says with a sigh as she brings her hand between her legs.

“No,” I say. “Don’t touch yourself.”

“But Cole…”

“No, that’s my pussy. You don’t come until I tell you.”

I continue to draw gentle circles around her breasts as she groans, then starts moving around her bottom half. When she pushes the blanket down, that’s when I realize she was taking her pants and underwear off, leaving herself completely bare to me.

“That’s my girl,” I say as I drag my fingers down her stomach and to her pubic bone. Her legs spread even wider, and her pelvis thrusts up, seeking friction, but I don’t give it to her.

“I want your cunt squeezing my cock tonight, Storee. And I want you to spend the night.”

“I…I can’t,” she pants as my fingers find her breasts again, but this time I circle around her nipple, her chest heaving now, her pelvis wiggling.

“You can. I want you in my bed.”

“But—”

“But nothing,” I say as I pinch her nipple. She groans loudly, her chest pushing into my hand.

“Yessss,” she drags out.

I pluck at her nipples, playing with them, watching her writhe beneath me, looking for so much more.

“Yes, you will stay?”

“I…oh God…Cole.”

“Answer me,” I say, driving up her pleasure by bringing my free hand to her pussy and cupping her. She tries to wiggle against me, attempting to create some heat.

“You know…I…can’t.”

“Not what I want to hear,” I say as I move one finger along her seam.

“Oh God. Please, Cole, I’m throbbing.”

“Then you’d better answer me,” I say while playing with her nipples.

“They…they’ll find out.”

“We’ll wake up early and get you back to the house before they wake up,” I reply as I swipe at her slit again. She doesn’t answer, so I swipe again…and again, already feeling how aroused she is. I bring my finger up to my mouth and suck on it. Her eyes go wild. “Say it, say you’ll stay.”

“Pr-promise we’ll get me home?”

“Promise,” I say as I return my hand to her pussy and slip my finger all the way against her clit.

“Fuuuuck,” she draws out. “Yes. I’ll stay.”

“Good girl,” I say as I move two of my fingers inside her. I play with her clit, massaging and circling it, applying just enough pressure with my thumb to make her pleasure climb.

“You’re so good,” she says as her hands go to her breasts.

“Don’t touch yourself. That’s my job.”

Frustrated, she lowers her hands as I take over with my free hand, playing with her breasts. Cupping them, squeezing them gently, then running my fingers around her nipples.

“This pussy is so greedy. I can feel you squeezing already, wanting more.”

“Because I’m close,” she whispers as her chest arches and her legs wiggle.

“Do you usually come this fast?”

“Never,” she says. “It’s you, Cole…all you.”

And that does something to my possessive soul as I move my fingers faster, playing with this woman’s body, wanting her to come so goddamn bad that it feels like my next breath depends on it.

“Yes, Cole…oh my God, right there. Right…there…” She groans, her hips thrusting into my hand, her lips parting. Just as I feel her starting to tighten around my fingers, I pull away.

“No!” she yells. But I lift her, strip my pants down, and let my cock spring up.

“Fuck me, Storee. Fuck me hard.”

She straddles my lap, places me at her entrance, then slams down, making my eyes roll in the back of my head from her sweet, tight warmth.

“Fucking hell,” I whisper as her grip falls to my shoulders, and she starts bouncing up and down on me. The sound of her ass hitting my thighs fills the air, mixed with her beautiful moans. “That’s it, Storee, ride me.”

She moves her pelvis back and forth, up and down, in circles, seeking out every angle she can. All the while, her breathing grows heavier and heavier.

Her need goes wild.

Her pussy tightens with every thrust.

“Fuck, I’m close,” I breathe out as I grip her hips and help her move. “Jesus, so close. Take my cock, Storee. Fucking take it.”

She lifts off me, and it’s my turn to protest, but then she turns around and sits back down on me. The angle must be hitting her in a different spot with her back to my chest because her thrusting has become feral.

I help her, shooting my cock up into her, meeting her pace. My hands find her breasts, and I play with them while she rubs her clit.

“Fuck yes, fuck yes,” she says as her pussy clenches around me. “Oh my God, Cole. I’m…I’m coming.”

She tightens.

She contracts.

She arches and grips the back of my neck as she shatters on top of me, pulling and tugging on my dick in such a delicious way that my balls tighten, my cock swells, and I’m coming inside her with such force that I bite down on her shoulder.

“Fuck,” I yell when I release her and let my head fall back to the couch as she leans into me. “Jesus Christ,” I mutter, coming down from the best high in the world.

“Cole,” she whispers, her hand falling to her chest. “Oh my God.”

“I know,” I say, my breathing ragged.

“You…are amazing.” Still on my lap, she turns around and leans her forehead against mine. “No one has ever made me feel the way you do.”

“Same,” I say, stroking her hair.

“You are ruining me.”

“That’s the plan,” I say, then I notice the bite mark on her shoulder. “Shit, Storee. I’m sorry.” I smooth my hand over where my teeth imprinted her skin.

“Don’t be…I hope you do it again.”

Our eyes meet, and I smile right before I bring her lips to mine.