Chapter 13

CRISPIN

On the seventh day of Christmas, visions of Sugar Plum naked

Her mouth is so hot against mine, drawing me in and pulling me down. Ah. Hell yes. I’ve been fantasizing for days about kissing Cyan. Not because of Frost or Aspen, but that, too. It’s the faces she makes that I really like. Her expressions. She looks like somebody that deserves to be kissed like this.

A good girl. One who loves books. Who curses like a sailor and fucks like a queen (according to Frost).

My thumbs slide underneath her jaw, tilting her head up to me, so I can fully explore her with my tongue. I stroke my fingers gently down her throat as our mouths work together, curiosity and heat under the mistletoe. Mm. Fuck. She tastes like ginger and cloves, a bit of icing at the corner of her lip that I flick off with my tongue.

Cyan sways a little, falling into my embrace.

“You planned that,” she whispers as she draws back, her words shaky and her expression dazed.

“Nope. I just took advantage of a good opportunity. That’s what I aim to do with you, Sugar Plum.” I tug her down the hallway and into my room, pushing the door shut behind her and bracing my palm on it. She looks up at me, swallowing hard.

I smile at that.

“I don’t want you guys to think I’m sampling you like a box of chocolates.” She mumbles something under her breath that might be dick chocolates before continuing. “I swear that I—” She stops talking, pursing her lips and waiting to hear what I have to say in response.

“Wouldn’t blame ya.” I gather her up against me, curled over her and resting my forehead against her hair. She feels good tucked in there like that. After that thing with her mom, I thought she’d appreciate a hug first and foremost. “Is that what you want? See if things will work out between us?”

“Of course I do,” she replies, sputtering, like I should be upset that we’re agreeing to let her date all of us.

“This was our idea, Cyan. Remember? Don’t worry about taking advantage.” I turn my head and put my lips against her hair. She could really use someone treatin’ her gentle. It won’t be Frost. Aspen is adorable, but he can be oblivious. Vale … he’s done the best with Cyan so far. Until now. “We should be the ones worrying about taking advantage of you.”

I release her, letting my fingers trail down her arm as I step away. With a scrape of my teeth over my lip, I turn and walk to the bed, pulling down the covers and gesturing at the flannel sheets underneath. They’re ugly as sin, covered in deer and pheasants. I didn’t pick this room, with its hunting lodge furniture and taxidermied animals, but I feel like I was stereotyped into it. Never did I want to stay in a room with a bass fish on the wall, wearing a Santa hat. It sings at the press of a button.

Cyan is hesitant at first, kicking off her slippers and peering around the room with her hands clasped behind her back.

“You’re probably wondering why this room is tacky and shitty compared to all the others?” Cyan grins over her shoulder at me and then bounces over to a taxidermied bear in the corner, claws raised, Santa hat on its head, too. “This is my brother, Adam’s, original room. He decorated it in high school and it hasn’t changed since. He stays upstairs in a nicer suite now that he’s married.”

“It’s, uh, somethin’.” I move toward Cyan, drawn to her in a way that’s rare. It’s not often that you run into a person who captures your attention from the first moment you meet them. I come to a stop, my own slippers scuffing against the floor. Took me damn near a week to realize that Cyan’s dad wanted us to take our shoes off inside. He’s as freaked as his daughter at the idea we might realize he’s a fan. I chuckle and drop my chin, flicking my eyes up at Cyan. “But at least it comes with a real fireplace.”

“Oh. Yeah. Adam had to have a room with a fireplace or I wasn’t allowed to have one, since he’s older.” Cyan shrugs and moves away from the bear, almost as if she’s trying to stay just out of reach from me. Our eyes meet again, and the edge of her lip lifts. “It’s the only part of the room I like.”

“The bed is nice.” I step up beside her, and she closes her eyes. Our arms are just barely brushing, enough to signal awareness but nothing more. “The sheets.” I stretch my arm across her belly, putting my fingers on her hip through her cotton pants.

Halfway through our day, Cyan declared that we were going to wear pajamas. She left the four of us in the kitchen and then came back in … whatever the fuck this is, but she looks so damn good it doesn’t matter. Like a Christmas card or something. Green and black plaid button-down. Matching pants. Shapeless, but snuggly.

I could snuggle her. I bet she’d like that. I let my fingers slide off and squat down, using the supplies next to the fireplace to get a hot one going.

Cyan is still waiting beside me, but she’s turned around to watch.

“I think I should tell you that I thought you were—might still be—a ladies’ man who can make any girl feel the way you’re making me feel. You’re good at it, like Aspen is. Charming people.” Cyan sniffles, but she’s not crying or anything, just rubbing her nose with the end of her sleeve. Probably still hurts, what Donner did to her. I stand and turn, cupping the side of her face, my lips soft but not smiling. Neutral. My eyes are gentle though, and the sight reassures her. “If you are, it’s okay. You’re still nicer than my family.”

“I told you: I’m protective, Cyan. You want me to kick someone’s ass for ya? Starting with Dad, I think. Can’t beat up your mama.” I take Cyan’s hand, her fingers tangled in that plaid sleeve, and draw her over to the side of the bed. “Climb in.”

She stares at the bed, breathing hard, and then scrapes her teeth across her own lip. Cyan crawls onto the bed and flops back into the pillows, one arm thrown across her forehead, watching me with pink cheeks and dilated pupils.

“ Holy Spirit. ” I close my eyes and then crack one open. That was both a curse and the beginning of a conversation. “ Holy Spirit - Reimagined . I had to pay your dad for the value of it, since the two of you broke the canvas by fuckin’ that bed into the wall.”

Cyan sits up, frowning.

“Frost should have to pay for that. It was his fault.” She lifts her eyes back to mine. “But what does that have to do with you being a ladies’ man?”

“Frost doesn’t pick up women. At all. Period. It doesn’t happen. If we ask him to meet a girl, he usually tells us no immediately.” I tuck my hands in my pockets, also wearing plaid (not mine, but borrowed from Adam’s drawer since I didn’t pack damn near enough clothes). “He likes you, which is the first part. But the better part is that I also like you.”

I grin at her, can’t help myself. Here’s to hopin’ she isn’t angry with me.

“I found the jumper cables about ten minutes after you got on the bus, but I didn’t say anything.” I watch Cyan’s neck as her breath catches, pulse fluttering in the hollow of her throat. My eyes find hers again. “I’ll be right back.”

“Wait!” she calls out, and I pause, turning to look at her over my shoulder. She seems surprised that I actually stopped, looking down at the sheets like she’s embarrassed. “You should … get condoms from Vale.”

“Already have some—no yetis, Santas, trees, or candy canes in sight.” I step into the hall and close the door behind me.

Cyan is asleep when I get back.

I pause with a pair of hot buttered rums, one in each hand. Heeling the door shut, I make my way over to stand next to Cyan. Frost told me she faked sleeping to see what he’d do. Is this the same thing? I put both mugs down and kneel beside the bed, smiling as I reach out to draw some hair away from Cyan’s face. She uses it to hide behind, but I love the expressions on her face. Can’t have that hair blockin’ ‘em.

She doesn’t stir, not even when I lean forward and press a kiss to her forehead. Her breathing is soft and relaxed, and I give a little laugh. Poor Cyan. This might be the first time she’s truly relaxed since she set foot in this house. Is this the worst family in the world? Nah. Are they still annoying as fuck? Oh, yeah.

I’m honored that Cyan could relax enough to sleep in my room, so I don’t bother her. I get settled in the bed on the opposite side, reaching across her sleeping body to snag my mug and the book she brought in here with her.

Sipping my drink, I flick the cover open.

Several hours later, I realize I haven’t slept and that all I’ve been doing is reading a book about a woman who owns a Christmas tree farm.

Cyan stirs with a groan, blinking sleepily in the glow of the bedside lamp. She turns her head to look at me, finding the book in my hand.

“We never even had sex and you’re letting me sleep in your room?”

A laugh bursts out of me that I can’t help. I snap the book shut and toss it—as respectfully as I can—onto the table.

“Listen up, suga’.” My accent is getting thick with my irritation. Not at her. But with every idiot that’s ever made her feel like she needed to ask such an awful question. “I don’t need sex from you in exchange for me bein’ nice. You hear me? If you think that, then I absolutely will not fuckin’ fuck you.”

“Fuckin’ fuck me?” she repeats, trying to imitate my accent. Cyan claps both hands over her mouth, holding them there as we stare at each other. Me, I’m pissed, eyes dark as I look down at her. Never mind. This family is the worst for making this woman feel so horrible about herself.

“Oh, yea.” I lift my brow and lean past her, dragging my body across the front of hers and flicking the light off. I settle down in the pillows facing her, and Cyan does the same. The fire is still crackling, kept alive by my insomniac ass this whole time. I’m glad for it now, throwing dancing shadows across the walls. “I’m nice to people not because I’m always trying to fuck them, but because the default should be nice.” I pause. “And then if a person pisses you off, you deal with ‘em.”

Cyan is quiet for a few minutes, nuzzling into the sheets and sighing.

“Not everyone is like you, Crispin.” Cyan hesitates, gathering her courage for something. “But they should be.”

“Hm. That’s better.” I roll over and put my right forearm on Cyan’s left side, hovering above her. “I could kiss you and make you sleep on the other side of a pillow wall. That’d amp the anticipation up, I’d say.”

Cyan giggles and puts her arms around my neck, pulling my mouth to hers. Ahh. How could I resist? Her lips are so sweet, like the gingerbread we baked together earlier. I’ve never baked with anyone before, definitely not a woman. Not with the guys. I loved it. Bet Vale writes a hundred songs about that.

She tries to rush her way through the kissing, but I take her hands and gently force them into the pillow on either side of her face. Kissing is an art. Flirtation is a privilege. This is the fun part right here, the first taste of someone new. Someone with promise.

I ease myself away from Cyan’s lips, kissing her face, her collar bones, her breasts after I unbutton her shirt. One button at a time as I keep kissing down, running my tongue across the waistband of her pants and then grabbing hold of them. I tear them down, exposing her sex, and then I grip Cyan hard by the hips and drop my face. My next kiss lands between her thighs, causing her back to arch dramatically.

She’s panting as she lifts up on her elbows to look down at me.

“Did Vale write A Gift of Starlight about you?” she asks, but I shake my head, pressing another kiss to the inside of her thigh and causing her body to buck dramatically. Only my hands on her hips keep her from jumping across the bed. “Because your kiss is …”

“He wrote it about his dream girl, who he never even met.” I lift my eyes up to Cyan’s and press a defiant kiss to her pussy as I watch her arch her pale throat, painted orange by the fire. “Hell, maybe that means the song is about you?”

Her eyes are comically large as I stare her down.

“You’re … this isn’t real. This isn’t happening. ” She looks around, like she’s searching for something. “This isn’t like A Christmas Carol or anything? Like some glimpse of an alternate timeline?”

I flick my tongue against her pussy and Cyan collapses back into the pillows, the rumpled plaid of her pajama top bunched around her. My hand drags her pants down the rest of the way, pulling them over her feet so they don’t get in my way.

I want to see everything by firelight.

My mouth devours her pussy, one palm pressed flat against her lower belly to keep her still, the other cupping her ass from underneath. There’s no rush here. We’ll take as much time as we need to get to know each other.

Cyan’s fingers find my hair, exploring me with a rough massage, guiding and pushing when she needs it. I turn my head and rub my cheek against the inside of her thigh, drawing a sound from her that I don’t give a fuck if anyone hears. We’ll be as loud as we want over here. Ain’t no kids in this part of the house.

“If you want to scream, then scream.” I run my tongue up the length of her, from her ass to her clit. There’s enough lube down here for me to mount her in one thrust, but I lick it off and wait for her to make more under my touch. My finger presses against the entrance to her pussy, pushing that soft skin aside and making room for my body inside of her.

She’s unbelievably tight, so I slow down even more. No thrusting, not until she starts to buck her hips and ask for it. Little by little, I slip that finger in, kissing and licking and sucking on her with my mouth.

“ Please, ” Cyan groans out, and I look up to see her squeezing her own tits. Fuck. That’s almost too much for me. My cock twitches and I grind my hips into the mattress, looking for release. It feels fucking incredible, just that little bit of friction. “I need more. I need it so bad.”

I slam my finger knuckle-deep, and she throws her head back. Then I slide it out, all the way. When I breach her opening again, it’s with two fingers. Same slow in, same pleas from her, a pause from me. I nip Cyan’s thigh, and she thrashes, trying to force movement from me.

I sit up and slide my body over hers, bracing myself above her while I slam my hand into her body as fast and as hard as she wants me to. Faster. Harder. My hips churn against the outside of her thigh, pleasurable but frustrating, too. My intention here was to start with something a little lighter and work our way up to this, but … I can’t.

I fucking can’t.

I only have so much self-control.

“On your knees,” I pant out, sliding my fingers free. Cyan moves quickly, just as motivated as I am.

“Fuck me,” she begs, burying her face in the pillow. “I’ll die if you don’t.”

“I’m comin’, sweet thing. I’m comin’.”

Will definitely be coming soon because I’m strung up with tension and about to break this pretty sleigh bed in half with my hips.

There are condoms in my drawer already, plain ones. I brought them into this house because of Cyan. The entire time we sat next to each other on that bus, she was staring at my thigh through a hole in my jeans. Impossible not to be intrigued by someone lookin’ at me like that.

On my knees behind Cyan, I put the condom on and scoot forward, nudging my shaft against the outside of her. She rocks back into me, looking over her shoulder and biting her lip.

“Pull my hair?” she suggests, blushing, and I grin.

“You’re kidding me, right?” I grab a handful of her soft hair and curl it around my fist, not too tight. Not meant to hurt. Just to show her that I’m here, and that I know what I’m doing. It doesn’t have to be brutal to be good. “It’d be my pleasure.”

My cock slips inside of her by accident on her next wiggle, fitting us together seamlessly. We slam together with a pair of matching groans, her body pleasuring mine while I return the favor. It’s so good that I lose a little bit of finesse, moving fast and deep, stroking these sounds from Cyan that rile me up as much as the feel of her gripping me.

She gets tighter after dropping her hand to her clit, rubbing herself frantically while I put my hand on the wall to brace myself. And accidentally hit the damn fish. It falls off the wall to the bed and starts caroling. Without skipping a thrust, I snatch the decorative plaque up and toss it onto the floor, breaking it.

Probably have to reimburse someone for that, too.

Cyan almost laughs, but the sound never manifests. We’re fucking too furiously to care about interruptions. Not even the knock at our door interrupts us, and we keep going. My hands all over her, our bodies pressed tight together.

The firelight fades on our skin and a bit of dawn peeks through the curtains, white and stale and ice-wild.

My hips press tight to Cyan’s ass, and I feel an orgasm hit me in the stomach, pleasure and agony from my balls to the tip of my cock. Finishing inside the condom while my brain frantically cooks up a fantasy where I’m not wearing one. We’ll figure that part out soon enough.

I don’t pull out of her, keeping her tucked close while she uses her hand to expertly get herself off underneath me. It feels nice, to hold her there while she does it, to keep her upright when she would’ve otherwise collapsed.

Gently, I release Cyan’s panting body to the mattress, sitting back and dealing with my own mess for a minute. While I’m out of bed in search of the trash, I fix the curtains, cutting off the light and the cold seeping through the glass.

I climb back into the sheets and put my hand on her hip, enjoying the sound of her breath in the dark.

“You sure you’re good with me staying in here?” she asks, and I realize I’ll have to put Frost on my ass kicking list. I drag Cyan close and she spins, pushing her back into me, little spoon to big one. Flannel sheets. Warm bedroom.

A dead bear in a Santa hat and a broken fish that carols with the press of a button.

Feels like Christmas to me.

“I don’t know you,” she whispers, which is true. “But that was fun. ”

I laugh at her again, burying my face in her hair and breathing in the scent of that mistletoe shampoo. She badmouthed it to me, but I could tell she liked it. Her father gave me a bottle from her bathroom, after all.

“No, but you did agree to be my girlfriend. Suppose I’m just trying to show you what you’re in for by saying yes.”

“I could do this everyday for the rest of my life.” Cyan closes her eyes and falls asleep faster than I can think up a response to that one.

Insomnia ain’t a problem any longer, not while I’m wrapped around Cyan like she’s my favorite fuckin’ present.