by Jax Hart
“Where’s my room? I need to change and get some rest if I need to worry about the boogie man coming out here to get me.”
“We have one of those, too. He could show in town tomorrow.”
“Good Lord. What is this place? It looks like a town inside a snow globe but filled with characters from one of my mom’s films.”
“It’s paradise. You’ll see. Come on.”
I follow her down a wide hall and up a set of wide stairs. “This is the back staircase that leads right to the kitchens. She takes me to the top floor and down the hall to a corner room. “Welcome home.”
“Har-har.”
But as the door slowly opens. I wonder if she’s right.
A welcoming fire blazes across from a four-poster canopy bed covered in soft cream linens with a plush red velvet throw. I had taken off my boots downstairs and my feet sink into the snow white faux-fur rug as I cross to the windows. I gasp in awe at the sight below. More garland with lights wrap around a dock and to my right an orchard is lit up since every tree is covered. “This is incredible. Why did you decorate the entire property if the place isn’t full?”
“Oh well… just because we’re hosting Springdale’s first New Year’s Eve ball in the newly renovated grand ball room downstairs.”
“That wasn’t on your website.”
“Oopps. Electronic devices give me migraines. Sue me,” she shrugs.
“I didn’t bring anything fancy.”
She eyes my designer jeans and sweater. “Somehow I think even your pajamas are fancier than anything most girls wear around these parts.”
“Are there any single men in Springdale?”
“Loads,” she winks. “It’s a paradise of testosterone.”
“Well sign me up. After the chump I was with, I need a good lay. He never cared about making me feel good. I faked everything.”
“Why did you put up with that then?”
“Because I’m pathetic,” I groan sinking down on the bed. “All my friends are married with their two point five kids, golden retrievers and picket fences.”
“Marriage is a crock of shit. All my friends used to complain the sex was non-existent and their husbands turned into fat lazy assholes three years in.”
“God. I hope not. What’s the point then?”
“Did you come here to husband hunt?”
“No. I came here to get laid and find my life’s calling.”
“There’s plenty of men willing to do that.”
“Good. Maybe it’ll be a Merry Christmas for me after all.”
“Luce and Dev are going to love you. Thank god, you aren’t ashamed to say what you what.”
“You don’t think I’m a slut?”
“Honey. My bra was the first to burn back in the seventies.”
“You never got married and drove off into the sunset?”
Her eyes cloud over. “I had my chance and missed it. I never swung at my pitch. Don’t make the same mistake I did. If the right one comes, swing for the fences.”
“Thanks, I’ll remember that.”
After a long hot shower, I pinned my hair up in a bun put on a fresh pair of jeans, a white tee and got to work. Sally and I drank and baked. She even convinced me to take a hit from her “princess pipe” a.k.a medicinal marijuana. We laughed until we cried. She told me her life story including how she met Luce, who married the President of the local MC last summer. Their tumultuous love story was so hot I ended up using the dish towel to fan my face.
Snuggling under the covers, drunk, high, and exhausted. I murmur as I fall into the most delicious dream.
Her walks me back until my ass is pressed flat against the wall. He grins. His lips half hidden by his full beard. I gasp as he bends his head and nuzzles my neck. The beard tickling my sensitive skin. The sensation hardening my nipples to painful diamond points. “You need me, sugar? You need this?” He grunts, pulling my hips into his.
“Yes,” I moan, as his lips kiss their way to my parted mouth. He grunts, planting his feet wide and my hands roam up his thick, muscular back until they reach the back of his head. I gasp as he uses his tongue to part my lips even wider before barreling his way inside.
He kisses like a man.
Takes what the fuck he wants.
It’s raw. Primitive and exactly what I need. His kiss is possessive as his tongue slides over mine again and again. My hands fist in the front of his soft flannel shirt. “More?”
“I want it all.”
His mouth lowers to my collarbone. His hands pull the hem of my sweater up. His meaty palms find my aching breasts begging for his rough touch. I throw my head back not caring we’re in a secluded alcove of the MC’s clubhouse.
“Does it turn you on? … knowing everyone’s watching, listening to you beg for me to make you come?”
“Y-esss.” I bite my lip as he grunts, removes my bra and brushes his beard all over my heated skin. He rolls both my nipples. One with his tongue the other between two fingers. It. Hurts. So. Good.
I thrust my hips needing more of him.
He chuckles. The sound vibrating from my nipple straight down to my core.
He slips a hand inside my jeans.
“Fuck, kitten. You’re so wet for me.” His index finger teases up and down my slit while his thumb skims across my clit screaming for his attention. I cry out loudly as three fingers plunge deep and curl up, teasing me.
His answering growl sounds almost feral against my swollen lips as he kisses me deep while his hand slides in and out of me, pinches my hot button and slides back in.
“Are you gonna come for me, California girl?”
“You…bet…your…backwoods…. ass,” I moan, nipping his lip as white lights explode behind my eyes. He continues to pump his fingers in and put through it all, drawing out the longest orgasm I’ve ever had.
“Good girl.”
My eyes snap to his. His beard is gone. My bad-ass mountain man is none other than the shady dickhead who lent me his overpriced designer coat. My body is plastered to his.
“What? You’re not my type.”
“You sure about that…fur baby?” He rasps, his fingers still moving in and through me.
“Get out of my dream!”
“Glady,” he mocks.
“Arrrrghhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” I’m sticky. Hot and unsatisfied. The digits on the alarm clock glow red: four a.m...
My fists beat the pillow as I rollover, pissed at the throbbing ache between my thighs. Well hell. I won’t be able to sleep until I take care of it.
Fumbling through my suitcase, I find the vibrator. It’s nine inches of heaven. I straddle it, slowing taking in every inch until it’s firmly planted inside me. Rolling my hips, I pinch my nipples, pretending I’m riding my mountain man.
In less than three minutes, I throw my head back coming like a hurricane. Finally sated, I slump against the pillows dreaming his thick arm is thrown across my waist. I just need to find him. I blink, face turned toward the window where the blue-black sky fades into the whisper of the coming dawn. He’s out there somewhere. I’m sure of it.
Maybe I am a man-crazy whore. But I don’t care. I want what I want and Sally’s right; I won’t apologize or pretend otherwise any damn more.
5
DARE
“THIS THING IS MAKING MY BALLS ITCH.”
“Stop,” Devon smacks my forearm. “Santa can’t be seen scratching his balls.”
“I really hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Well,” I sigh, “you do make a better omelet than Rog does.”
“I heard that,” he growls, entering the small supply room behind Luce’s art gallery.
“God, his ego is huge.”
“…isn’t the only thing about me that’s huge,” Rog smacks her ass.
“Just admit that you’re not king of the kitchen.”
“Nope. I’m the best goddamn cook in the county. I could kick Iron chef’s ass.” He cracks his
knuckles and rolls a shoulder.
“Seriously, babe?” She rolls her eyes. I glance between the two of them and fiddle with the buckle on these friggin’ pants.
“You know it’s true wench.”
She quirks an eyebrow, “Is that anyway to speak to your baby mama?”
He sputters. Stops mid-retort with his mouth hanging wide. “What did you just say?”
“You heard me, big daddy.”
He swoops her up in his arms and swings her around. Neither of them notice me holding the beard and felt hat in my hands as I leave. Witnessing their private moment was awkward as shit. But I guess she just couldn’t wait to tell him.
“Stop right there.”
A sexy, pixie steps in my path. “Hello, Luce.” Luce married Smith, the Prez of Creed, the summer before but I don’t know how he landed her. She’s too good for him and we all know it.
“You can’t be seen. It’ll ruin everything. Santa is kinda the main draw tonight.”
“Fuck me.”
“Tssk. That’s not very Santa like, Dare. There’s already a line fifty kids deep waiting to sit on your lap and tell you what they want for Christmas.”
“Christ. I need a drink.”
She hands me a bottle of water.
“Pass. I need the hard stuff.”
“That’s a no. We can’t have a drunk Santa at Springdale’s first annual holiday festival.”
“It’s almost Christmas. Why are you doing this shit now anyway?”
“Because the mayor wouldn’t approve it.”
“How come?”
“Because he was fighting with his woman,” Rog bellows from behind me. He still has Devon caught up in his arms as he walks out of the supply room. “What the fuck?” I mutter taking in his black pants, shiny- black low-heeled boots and crisp white shirt. “Seriously?”
“Yup. I’m now the official mayor of Springdale.”
I shake my head and close my eyes. “This is one fucked-up holiday season so far. I’m in an alternate reality, right? My plane went down and I’m trapped in purgatory or some shit, right?”
“Here.” Rog reaches inside the pocket of his blazer and hands me a flask. “You look like you need this, brotha.”
“Thank fuck.”
“No.” The she-devil, Luce, is fast and swipes it from Rog’s outstretched hands. “Too many of these kids smell liquor on the breaths of their parents. Not Santa’s, too.”
She’s right.
Sighing, I accept defeat and sit down letting the two women fuss over my transformation into the jolly fat man.
6
Shiloh
WITH BLURRY EYES, I shuffle down the hall following the scent of coffee and sugar. I’m hungover. Tired AF and still pissed at my dickhead stranger for ruining the best damn sex dream I’ve ever had.
“Well…hello darlin’.”
Blinking rapidly. I peer up at the giant standing in the inn’s kitchen. “Holy shit! Either I’m still dreaming, or my Christmas wish actually came true.”
He shoots a cocky grin and pours coffee into a mug. I flush to the roots of my hair as he inspects me over the rim of the mug in his hand. He’s tall. Built. Muscles bulging under the skintight black Henley. He’s wearing worn in jeans and big biker boots.
“See something you like, darlin’?” He drawls.
“I do,” I sigh, but I’m about ten years too old for you.
“My name’s Mac and I like cougars.”
“Excuse me?” My spine straightens. My back bristles. I mean damn I know I must look like shit this morning, but no one’s ever put me in the cougar category.
“Retract your claws, cupcake.” He grins and picks up a large garment bag and unzips it a few inches. Inside is my faux-fur coat looking brand new.
“How did you get that?”
He winks. “You’re welcome.”
I reach for the pot of coffee and pour it almost to the brim leaving just enough room for cream and sugar while wracking my brain. I guess he must’ve taken my coat when he wrapped me in his. But then how does he know this guy? They couldn’t be more different. My dickhead was all Armani and smooth skin and this guy screams badass tattoo dude.
“Tell Sally I’ll see her at the Christmas festival.”
“I thought it was a tree lighting.”
“It was…it kinda snowballed into an all-day event. Don’t be late, you don’t want to miss Santa,” he winks stuffing more than one cookie into his mouth as he saunters out.
Wrapping the cozy robe I found hanging in my bathroom tighter around me, I add my cream and sugar and practically inhale my coffee wondering who the hell that was.
“Good morning.”
I manage a grimace and pour myself my second cup. Sally putters around and I shriek when she screams.
“They’re gone! What did you do? Binge at midnight?”
“Me?” I squeak.
She hold up an empty tin that was full of a least two dozen cookies the night before.
“It was him.”
“Who?”
“The big man who was in your kitchen about three minutes ago.”
“Hmmm,” she takes her rolling pin and smacks it across her palm. “Was he movie star handsome with a shit eating grin and dimples.”
“Yeah,” I sigh, swallowing my coffee too fast.
“That’d be Mac. Damn him. We’re going to be late and if I don’t have enough cookies Devon is going to freak. And pregnant woman are hell on wheels.” She throws her hands up and starts pulling ingredients from cupboards. “Don’t just stand there we have two hours to replace three dozen frosted cookies.”
My eyes roll. “I’m one starring you on Trip Advisor for this.”
She pauses mid tirade. “You do that, and you’ll be on his radar.”
“Whose?”
“You didn’t Google Roque Salvatore last night.”
“Nope.”
“It’s probably better…you’d have never gotten a wink of sleep.”
“Because he’s the boogie man, right?”
She shrugs…, “who happens to be sex on a stick.”
“Wow. I’m so impressed.” I bring a hand to my chest in mock feeling faint.
“I’ll be the one laughing when he shows up and scares your tits off.”
“If that happens…it’ll be a point one star.” We don’t speak much as we both bake bleary-eyed and manage to pull the last tray from the oven with thirty minutes to spare.
“I’m going to shower.” I yawn.
“There’s no time. I’m sorry.”
“Fine. I don’t really want to go anyway.”
“Of course, you do. Santa’s going to be there.”
“I stopped believing years ago.”
“You’ve never seen a Santa like this. Trust me. I might even sit on his lap.”
“What makes him so special?”
“You’ll see,” she winks, shooing me upstairs.
7
Shiloh
HAPPINESS FLOOD THROUGH ME. Main Street in Springdale, Oregon is a dream. All the Christmas dreams I had while staring out my window at swaying palm trees. A fresh coat of snow blankets the ground while clinging to the limbs of trees. Evergreens wear it like a coat. The police closed the street and it’s a winter festival full of piping apple cider, hot chocolate stands, coffee, donuts…the smells swirl around me with the snow.
But the lights make me believe in the magic of it all. The late morning is gray and overcast but the thousands of twinkling lights make it shine. A bonfire is lit, and people stand around chatting and munching all while waiting for the big, fat man to show. A sleigh is set up behind velvet ropes. There’s even a small pen with reindeer munching on hay. Vendors are set up along the main street hunkered under pitched white tents and string lights; their outdoor winter’s market the perfect touch.
“What do you think?”
“It’s a surreal. The town really went all out. I mean reindeer?”
Sally chuckles. “No
one stops Devon when she puts her mind to something. You’ll meet her soon. She’s married to the mayor and one of my good friends. My shop’s over there next to the art gallery.”
“You have a shop?”
“It’s seasonal. I’m closed for winter but yeah, I have a small coffee and bake shop.”
“It’s no wonder I’m going to gain twenty pounds by the time I leave.”
Sally smiles “If you ever leave. I thought I was just coming for a visit and I ended up staying.”
“I have students to get back to. I would never leave them.”
“You enjoy teaching?”
“I do. It’s fulfilling. Watching my students learn and grow, helping them figure it all out…I do my part and push them forward on their way.” I pause, letting my gloved hand pick up a crocheted scarf that has the same cream color yarn as the cream in my “fur” coat.
“How much?”
“Twenty, Ma’am.” The woman sitting behind the booth smiles.
“That’s a steal.” I hand over a crisp bill and put the handmade scarf around my neck, throwing the ends over my shoulder. A warm smile comes easy as many people make polite greetings. Everyone knows each other that much is clear.
“You’re getting quite the amount of attention.”
“It’s my coat. It’s warm but now I feel silly. I’m a fish out of water.”
“Nonsense. All the woman just wish they could look as good as you.”
My heads turns at the sound of revving engines. I gasp as about twenty men wearing leather cuts over plaid flannel, jeans and sturdy black boots ride through the barricade and park their huge chrome bikes.
“Wow.”
“That’s Creed, the local MC. The town’s mayor was an original member.”
“It’s just like TV.”
“Shhh. It’s our little secret.”
I look from one to the next while pretending to look over the bottles of homemade maple syrup the next vendor has on display. “They’re all so…huge. Who’s that one?” I motion over to a large man with caramel skin, closely shaven dark hair with a heavy five o’clock shadow covering his strong jaw.
“That’s Federico, the VP.”
“Wow.”
