by M. K. Moore
Her Christmas Wish
A Forever Safe Christmas Novella
M.K. Moore
Flirty Filth Publishing
Copyright © 2019 by M.K. Moore
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover created by KL Fast
Created with Vellum
Contents
Blurb
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Epilogue
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Other books by MK Moore
About the Author
“Are you sure that we are awake? It seems to me that yet we sleep, we dream.”
-Demetrius, ACT IV, SCENE I, A Midsummer’s Night Dream, by William Shakespeare
Dedicated to the magic of Christmas. May yours be a merry, bright, and sexy as hell…
Blurb
Hannah Hollybaker is a woman out of time.
But Christmas is a magical time of year and miracles do happen.
Brett Sleighton doesn't do Christmas, but for her, he'll do anything.
Dreams do come true in this is Forever Safe, steamy, and over the top short story about finding love at Christmas.
Chapter 1
Hannah Hollybaker
Boston, Massachusetts
Christmas Eve Eve, 1919
I am exhausted after yet another high society Christmas party. It went until well past midnight and my face hurts from smiling so much. I rub my jaw to try to loosen it. While I love Christmas more than any other holiday, the ridiculousness of the parties is getting to be too much for me to handle. Give me a tree, lots of decorations, a few presents, good food, and the people I love surrounding me. That would be more than enough. I manage to get my dress over my head, my panties off, and my nightgown on. God, how I hate this thing. It’s like a straight jacket. A cream-colored cotton monstrosity that has a high neck, long sleeves, and drags the floor. It gets twisted up in my sheets every night to the point where I can’t breathe. Will it ever be appropriate to sleep naked? I pull my hair down out of its elegant twist, well what’s left of the elegant twist I put it in at the beginning of the night and braid it. Then I sit down at my vanity and wipe off my makeup until my pale face pinkens with my efforts.
Then I move to my little writing desk in the corner. I go over the correspondence that was delivered today, but nothing is urgent enough to warrant a return response be written tonight. Most are invitations to New Year’s Eve parties, but I haven’t decided on which one I am going to attend yet. While I would like to forgo the hoopla this year, I know that I can’t. I will be expected to attend at least one party. I would give anything to be able to remain at home and play a card game or something.
Grabbing a fresh sheet of parchment, I dip my fountain pen into the inkwell in order to begin a list.
I am writing down my Christmas Wish List because I am a firm believer in sending what I want out into the Universe so that it comes back to me. I have a feeling something huge is on the horizon for me, but I am running out of time. My father is breathing down my neck to get married to his grotesque business partner, Ethan Pennyworth. I have heard that he murdered both his first and second wives if the rumors are to be believed and I do believe them. I would rather die first; you know before I marry him, but I am running out of time. I have begun to feel as though I am a woman living in the wrong time. I don’t take heed of what men tell me to do, at least the ones that I don’t find worthy.
Once I turned sixteen, my mother, a leading advocate for women’s rights, and I have been marching the streets of Boston with other like-minded women in order to obtain the right to vote, amongst other things. I don’t want to marry a man for anything other than love. Or at the very least marry a man on my own terms. As I am an only child of only children, it gets pretty boring around this huge house. I know that one day, I want to have as many children as humanly possible.
Which brings me to the man that I know I love, even though I have never met him. I set my pen down and sigh wistfully. For as long as I can remember, I have dreamt of the same man. He is dressed very differently from the men around me and while I think he’s in Boston, it’s unlike any part of Boston I’ve ever seen. He haunts me on a nightly basis. Everything in me tells me that I have to find him in order to give him the love he needs. Everywhere I go, I look for him, but in all my years I’ve never once seen him. He’s tall, dark, and handsome with an abundance of facial hair. I fold my list in quarters and put it in the pocket of my nightgown. I may have a need to refer to it later. Why I would need to do that, I have no idea.
I finish preparing for bed and pray for him, whoever he is, to come and find me, to rescue me. I thought I'd never need a man to save me, especially with all the basic rights women are getting, but as long as it's him doing the rescuing, I'll be happy.
Once in bed, I turn out the lights and pull the covers over me. My braided light hair is already coming loose. That figures, it never stays. By morning it will look wild and unbrushed.
Just as I am about to fall asleep, I feel the house shaking. At least, I think it’s shaking. Things are rattling off of my shelves and my vanity, crashing to the floor. We don’t get massive earthquakes here, but something is definitely happening. I can’t even manage a scream before I am hurtling through the darkness. I squeeze my eyes shut tight to stave off the urge to vomit. I am in what can only be described as a vortex, devoid of light or sound. I have no idea how much time passes while this is going on. Just as suddenly as it began, my body slows down before I crash into a hard surface, face first, with a loud thud.
“Ow,” I groan, rolling onto my back. As my eyes adjust to the near-darkness, I realize that I am sprawled out on the floor in a completely empty room. There is bright moonlight shining through the curtain less window, illuminating what I am seeing. The room is somehow familiar. It dawns on me that this is my bedroom, but it’s different. The fireplace that was once in the center of the wall opposite my bed has been completely bricked over. The mantle remains, but there’s no way to light a fire. Why would my father do that? Where are my things? Something is not right. I am beginning to panic. In what I can only call my flight, my nightgown has ridden up obscenely, but I am too frightened to move it down. I jump and gasp when the door slams open against the wall and a bright light comes on overhead. That is definitely new.
“It’s you,” a man says. I shiver because I know that voice. It’s somehow harsh and soothing at the same time. My eyes roam over his shirtless form and I shiver in anticipation. This is familiar. It feels like home. He feels like home.
Suddenly, all of the changes in my room let me know that I must be dreaming because the man of my dreams is standing above me, staring straight down at me and my very much on display naughty bits.
Chapter 2
Brett Sleighton
Boston, Massachusetts
December 23rd, 2019
Why did I do this? It’s not like me to be so rash, but I had to. The actual reason I made such a move has not become clear to me yet, but I am beginning to think that it has to become clear soon, right? I am sitting in my chair before a roaring fire, watching some late-night junk TV when I hear a loud thud come from somewhere up above me. Brutus, my Irish Wolfhound, is lying beside my chair so I know he’s not up to no good somewhere in this massive house. As there is no one else here yet, I get up to investigate. My younger sister, Anika, is in college in California, but she lives with me when
she’s on a break from school.
Our parents died when I was eighteen and she was twelve. I was named her guardian and we made a little family together. The last seven years have been hard on us, but our parents made sure we were both taken care of. I had to learn how to be a father well before I was ready. I managed to invest more than half of what was left to me and have made a pretty penny. I put Anika’s in an interest-bearing bank account which she has always had access to. I used my own money to take care of our home and anything she needed, so she is pretty well set these days as well.
Back to the problem at hand, it’s probably just an animal or an open window, but I don’t want to be listening to that shit all night. I just bought this place three days ago. I can’t really explain it, but I saw this house on the MLS listings and I knew I had to live here. I wasn’t even looking for a new place, but when I tried to click out of the website, my computer froze on all the specs of the house. The more I read, the more I thought I had to live here. It was like the house was calling to me, so I called the real estate agent and put in a cash offer that was accepted before the call ended. It was a quick sale and as such all of my things aren’t here from Virginia yet, but I am making do with the few pieces of furniture I bought once I arrived. I climb the stairs to the second floor. Since I am not sure where the noise came from, I start by opening the master bedroom door. This is the only room that is fully furnished, but nothing looks out of place here. I move down the hall and open each of the doors to the other five rooms and find nothing in those either. Climbing the flight of stairs that leads to the third floor, I try all the doors on that level until I reach the last one.
Opening it, I find a girl lying on the floor, spread out to my gaze. Her old-fashioned nightgown has risen above her waist and her pussy is exposed to me. I groan inwardly and swallow thickly. She makes a noise and my eyes fly to her face.
“It’s you,” I say harsher than I mean too. Somehow, the girl I’ve dreamed about for as long as I can remember is lying half-naked on the floor of my brand-new house.
“It’s you,” she repeats back to me. I reach my hand down to help her up off the floor.
“I’m Brett Sleighton and you are?” I ask, my curiosity peaked. How is this possible? My dream girl is somehow in my house.
“Hannah Hollybaker. You’ve never asked me my name before,” she breathes, moving about an inch from me. Weird, this house is called Hollybaker Manor, I think to myself. I put that from my mind for now.
“I haven’t?” I ask.
“No, normally at this point, you’re already inside of me,” she says, dragging the fingers of her left hand down my chest and abs. Her words remind me of my dreams. She isn’t wrong. Most of my dreams don’t ever have us speaking unless it’s filthy talk. Suddenly, I begin to think that I’ve fallen asleep downstairs and am in the middle of a dream.
Without thinking, I lean down and take her lips with mine. She responds to the kiss like we’ve been doing this forever, and I guess in a way we have been doing this forever. She pulls back from me and reaches down to her thighs and uses both hands to pull the nightgown up slowly. Eventually, she whips it over her head and tosses it. I watch it sail across the room and land with a whoosh.
“Brett,” she breathes. The first time she says my name tingles go down my spine like I am about to come without a single touch. My cock hardens in my shorts and I wrench them down and kick them away. She licks her lips and looks at my hard-on like she’s about to devour it.
Suddenly, she jumps up in my arms and I have to catch her. My hands tighten on her lush ass and her legs wrap around my waist. My cock is thick on her lower belly.
“Hannah,” I growl.
“Take me. Claim me. Own me like you always do,” she breathes placing kisses all over my face. “This feels different this time.”
“It does.” If this is a dream, I don’t ever want to wake up. For some reason, I know that I have to take her to my bed. I carry her down the stairs, and into my room. I toss her gently on the bed. This is fast, but if it’s a dream, I am ready to get to the good stuff. As crazy as it seems, I started having dreams about her when I was thirteen. I knew she was the one for me, the one woman I would love forever, so I refused to allow myself to seek comfort with women who weren’t her. I am prepared to wait for the rest of my life to actually find her.
If dreams are the only place I can have her, so be it.
Chapter 3
Hannah
I can’t figure out why everything feels so different. I can actually smell his cologne and hear insects outside the window. Did a dog just bark? This is my parent’s room, but nothing is the same. There’s no fainting couch. Their two small beds have been replaced by one giant one. I want to know what’s going on, but I don’t want to stop what’s about to happen between us.
He crawls on the bed between my spread thighs. He kisses up my body starting at my ankles. His fingers follow suit. He avoids my lady bits altogether. Maybe in this dream, he doesn’t like it. My mind goes blank as his wet mouth finally encircles my taut nipple. Moving away from my breast, he finds my lips again. His kisses are quite amazing. I can feel them in my toes. He leans back and pulls my legs up so that they rest around his hips. He grips the appendage from between his legs and glides it through the wetness that has gathered between my thighs.
“Is your pussy ready for my cock, Hannah?” he demands.
“What?” I ask in confusion. I think I know what he’s talking about, but I’ve never heard those terms before. He looks at me weirdly before answering me.
“My cock,” he says shaking his thick, menacing-looking appendage. I definitely don’t remember dreaming about that. “Your pussy,” he says running a finger through my folds. Yes, yes. I want that. I need that.
“Oh,” I giggle. “Yes. I am ready,” I tell him, committing the terms to memory. He drags his cock through my wetness before slamming into me. “Holy God,” I shout as pain sears through me. He takes my virginity savagely, like he didn’t know it would be there. He pauses his movements and looks down at me.
“I am not asleep,” he groans.
“Me either,” I agree.
“Fuck. Your pussy is so tight. When I dreamt of you, it was never like this,” he says pulling himself out of me.
“I dreamt of you too,” I tell him. “Where are we?” My confusion goes through the roof. How is this possible? I rack my brain trying to figure it out, but it’s no use.
“Boston,” he replies.
“This is my house, but it’s different. What’s that?” I ask pointing to a flat black square mounted to the wall opposite the bed.
“It’s a TV. Have you never seen a TV before?”
“No,” I admit.
“When were you born?” he suddenly asks.
“A lady never reveals her age,” I tell him.
“Yeah. I am going to need to know that,” he says chuckling.
“1901,” I respond.
“Holy shit. Do you know what year it is now?”
“I would assume 1919.”
“It’s 2019,” he says emphasizing the two.
“What?” I shout, getting out of his bed. “It can’t be. When I went to bed a little while ago, it was December 23rd, 1919.”
“It’s December 23rd, 2019.”
“How is that possible?” I murmur.
“I have no idea.”
“Oh my God!” I exclaim. “My list,” I say walking out of the room and back up the stairs to my room. I know this house like the back of my hand.
“What list?” he asks following close behind me.
“I wished for you,” I tell him locating my discarded nightgown. I fish around in the pocket until I locate the piece of paper and then toss the gown again. He’s been inside of me. I think propriety is gone at this point.
“You wished for me?”
“Yes. My Christmas Wish List,” I say unfolding the list. “Look,” I say handing him the paper. He reads the list out loud.
>
“Number one, loves me for me, not because he owes my father something. Number two, never loved another before me. Number three, loves Christmas as much as I do. Number four, loves me at first sight. Number five, must be the man that I dream about every night. You think this brought you to me?”
“It has to be the reason,” I reply.
“You really believe this list let you travel through time to me?”
“I think the list had something to do with it, but God, the Universe, or something big like that did it.”
“Do you think it will send you back?” he asks. He looks upset or sad and I don’t like that look on his face.
“I don’t want to go back. Do you want me to go back?” I ask, tears already welling in my eyes.
“Hell no,” he says coming closer to me.
“Oh, good. We just found each other. I am not ready to say goodbye.”
“We are never saying goodbye, Hannah. For twelve long years, I have dreamed of you. Now that you are here, flesh and blood, I am never letting you go.
“What if I have to go back? What happens then?” He moves closer to me.
“We go on as we have done. Being content with dreams, but I know for sure that we are one pussy for life and one cock for life.”
“Are you saying that you have never been with anyone else?”
