Hale strokes my hair lightly as he flips through the channels, while Ash's hand falls to my calf, tracing a circle against my leggings and leaving a tingling sensation wherever he touches.
Before the twins can get back to us, I’m lulled to sleep between the two men and their gentle touches.
My head rolls against a hard chest and I murmur something incoherent in my haze of sleep, drawing a deep chuckle from the man holding me. The rumble through his chest makes me want to purr against him.
I’m snuggled against thickly corded muscles, making me feel secure within the grip of whichever man is holding me. Finding that sweet spot between shoulder and neck, I nuzzle into the perfect nook and inhale the spicy scent that I associate with Ash.
"Ash," I mumble against his neck.
"Go back to sleep, babe. You'll be in bed in a minute."
Babe. I like the sound of that.
True to his word, I'm lowered into my bed moments later and the thick, white comforter is pulled up to my shoulders just the way I like it. A featherlight kiss lands on my forehead and instinctively, I reach my arm out towards him as he moves away from me.
My fingers find his and I lock our hands together, my grip soft with sleep. "Thank you."
He rubs his thumb softly against my skin. "Go to sleep, Lana."
Something in his voice sounds sad, making my sleep-addled brain wake up a fraction.
I open my eyes, whimpering when his hand leaves mine. He’s already halfway out the door when I call out, "Ash, what's wrong?"
He doesn't turn around. "Absolutely nothing. I'll see you in the morning. Merry Christmas, Lana."
The door clicks shut behind him. For reasons I can't comprehend, my heart hurts. It’s the type of pain that just can't be physical, but the emotions are so intense, it feels like a piece of my heart might actually be breaking.
Why did his voice sound so broken? Why do I feel like it’s my responsibility to fix it?
Will I ever be free of the spell these enchanting men have cast on me?
Chapter 6
Leo
Grabbing the towel from the rack next to the shower, I wrap the thin material around my waist before stepping out. My brother, the only one of us who can match Lana's Christmas spirit, is brushing his teeth and humming jingle bells to himself.
He spits out his mouthful of toothpaste before he starts using the toothbrush as a microphone, singing almost inaudibly to not wake anyone up. He flings his head around as he dances, droplets of water from his wet hair smacking me in the face with the motion.
I chuckle lightly before grabbing my own toothbrush and joining in with him.
He sways his hips back and forth to the beat. "Jingle balls, jingle balls, jingle all the way."
I sing into my own mic and make a jacking off motion with my free hand as I continue the song, "Oh, what fun it is to jerk, in my fucking underwear, hey!"
Luke doubles over wheezing at the words, trying to keep his laughter down, and just barely succeeds. I’m thankful or our plans would be ruined.
Last night was the first step of our elaborate scheme. We lulled them all into a false sense of security by being angels and doing the dishes, encouraging them to relax and enjoy Christmas Eve. We've bided our time since our last prank months ago, so they won’t be on their guard. It’s set the perfect stage to allow us to wreak havoc this morning.
Really, we just want to get Lana since her reaction to our pranks is always priceless. If we get the guys, it’ll just be the icing on the gingerbread men. Gotta keep with the Christmas spirit.
Putting our toothbrushes away, we head back to our room to change into our Christmas clothes that are not at all immature in any way. We would never.
Okay, we would.
A few weeks ago, we saw a trend online where girls would wear a one-piece bathing suit that had a hairy man's chest and stomach on it. It was a total mindfuck and got our brains turning with ideas.
So we custom-ordered Christmas onesies very similar to that theme but instead, our suits have a fully naked, larger man with white body hair and wrinkled skin painted on. Our version of what we think Santa would look like naked.
Luke turns around to wiggle the ass of his suit at me and I almost lose it at the "Property of Mrs. Lana Claus" tattooed like a tramp stamp on the cheeks, an arrow on his back pointing to the words.
With her Christmas spirit, Lana’s Christmas moniker is Mrs. Claus so the suit is fitting.
Grabbing the bags of fake snow that we stashed in our closet, we head to her room to execute our plan. We push the door open slowly, peering in to make sure she’s still asleep, and stop dead in our tracks.
She’s on her stomach, her comforter haphazardly thrown off her and half on the ground, with her sleep shorts riding up her ass. The tanned skin of her perfectly round ass and long legs make my cock instantly hop to attention, like it did last night when she wiggled on my lap on the couch.
I need to have a stern conversation with my dick about how this is completely inappropriate, but I have a feeling he'll just tell me to fuck off.
Reaching down to adjust myself in the onesie, I take note of my twin doing the same.
Interesting. So it’s not just me that’s into her.
We exchange curious glances with furrowed brows and pointed looks.
I try to mouth my words to him. "Do you like her?"
He shrugs. "I think so. Is that fucked up?"
She stirs on her bed, rolling to her side and showing her lightly toned midriff, her tank top riding high on her torso. Before my eyes can latch onto her bare breast, I groan under my breath and walk into the room on silent feet. Grabbing a corner of the comforter, I gently place it back onto her.
The last thing either of us would want is for her to be uncomfortable or trigger her at waking up in a compromising position. Especially with her history.
A soft snore comes from her as I back away a bit, reassuring me that she's still dead to the world. We begin to scatter the fake snow around on the ground and pull our Santa hats on before getting to the ground and into position.
We lay on our sides, one arm propping our heads up, one leg bent, foot flat on the floor, while keeping the other leg flat on the ground. Placing one hand on the bent knee, we catch each other’s eyes and count down from three, mouthing.
When we reach one, we yell in unison, "Ho, ho, ho!"
Lana bolts up in bed, her head snapping to us. When her eyes land on us, her jaw drops open as she stares silently. It takes a count to two before her hands fly to her mouth and she erupts into a fit of laughter.
I wink at her. "The hot mess express has a delivery for Mrs. Lana Claus."
Luke cuts in. "Do you think you can draw us like one of your French girls?" Holding her gaze, he licks the length of his index finger before pressing the tip of it to his butt and making a sizzling sound.
Tears stream down her face as her laughter becomes soundless, save for a concerning wheeze.
It only gets worse as we slowly, seductively, get to our feet—well, as seductively as we can in a naked ass Santa suit. Humming the Macarena song, we begin to dance, going through the steps before whirling to show her our backs.
She squeals at the sight and throws every pillow on her bed at us. "Oh my god! I don't want to own a wrinkly, saggy old man's ass!"
Luke and I laugh and back all the way up to her bed, twerking as close to her as we can get.
I expect her to push me away but she surprises me when she jumps onto my back, knocking the air out of me. "Well, if you're my property, I demand a ride downstairs!"
I can't help the shiver that goes through me as I reach back to secure her legs around my waist, the heat of her mound against my back.
I look at Luke in alarm as my dick springs up, painfully hard. He frowns in confusion at me and I nod my chin to my traitorous cock for him to understand.
Instead of helping me, he falls to the ground, overcome with laughter. Some brother he is.
This is going to be an
interesting Christmas.
Chapter 7
Lana
One of my wrinkly Santas drops me off downstairs before running back upstairs to his twin so they can wake up the rest of the sleeping beauties.
Alone in the kitchen, I head towards the coffee machine and brew a large pot for everyone. Grabbing the ingredients for pancakes, I set them on the island counter before moving on to pull out the bowls and measuring cups.
A shrill scream from one of the guy’s rooms makes me jump and drop the large mixing bowl, my hand flying to my frantically beating heart.
It's too fucking early for screaming. I need at least one cup of liquid gold in my system to be ready for the fucking screaming.
Pounding footsteps sound on the stairs and I wonder which one of the guys it will be. Probably Zedd.
Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner.
His dark and floppy hair is sticking in random directions while a scowl twists his face. He’s only in a pair of red-and-green, plaid, flannel pants, his upper body bare. I can't help but admire his slimmer build.
I cross the kitchen to the coffee pot before he can and pour him a cup of coffee, before spinning around and facing him, blocking his way to the elixir of life.
His eyes narrow on me and the coffee held prisoner in my hands while I smile cheekily up at him. "For the low, low cost of a smile, this coffee can be yours."
I think I'd make a great salesman. I certainly wouldn't be a rich one though.
A dimple appears in his left cheek when he smirks down at me.
I tut at him and shake my head. "Now, now. You can do better than that."
He leans in close to me and smiles, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "Merry Christmas, Lana."
The proximity has my defenses lowered and he takes advantage, grabbing the coffee in his greedy hands and turning away, but not before I spy the light blush staining his cheeks.
My chest radiates with happiness at the gesture. Of the group, Zedd is the least physically affectionate with me so that was very unlike him.
Pushing the exchange from my mind before I can read too much into it, I start work on the pancake batter as the others slowly trickle in. The twins take up omelet duty while Zedd cooks the bacon. Hale is pouring glasses of OJ and setting the table as Ash comes downstairs.
He isn't a morning person but I can tell he's trying to suppress his inner Grinch for our sake. His smile looks pained—he half looks constipated—but the effort is cute and appreciated.
"Do you guys need help with anything else?"
His voice still sounds gravely from sleep, and I can't help but wonder why that’s such an immediate turn on for most women.
I am no exception to that.
Stuttering out my response, I say, "Morning, hey, uh—yup. Can you go wake Beth and let her know everything will be ready soon?"
He rubs his eyes and nods at the same time, shuffling off in the direction of her room.
Once we were old enough to be trusted in the kitchen alone, this became our new routine. We enjoy making breakfast for Beth since she does everything else for us. The first time we did it, she cried and we thought we’d upset her. Turns out, she said it was the best gift she could have ever received from us—to be cared for in such a simple, thoughtful way. So, with that, the tradition was cemented and persists to this day.
Hale starts to take all the food to the table and I follow his lead. As I'm walking over with the syrup, he takes a few, quick steps backwards. I attempt to sidestep him but it’s too late to prevent the collision and he walks straight into me.
Before the squeal is fully out of my throat, he whirls around and wraps his arms around me, holding me to him before I can topple over.
"Geez, Little One. If you wanted a hug from me, you could have just said so. No need to go out of your way to run into me."
I scowl up at him and beat on his chest with a balled-up fist. "I'll have you know that you're a danger to society, walking around backwards without a care!"
His eyes widen and he pouts, his bottom lip quivering. "Forgive me?" he pleads, his voice soft.
Lifting my chin in the air, I huff, pressing my lips together into a scowl.
"Fine,” he says, dropping the act and his arms from around me. “You'll have no choice but to forgive my poor walking skills when you open your gift.”
I straighten at the words but before I can launch into an inquiry, Beth walks into the room with a loud ‘good morning’ and begins her rounds of hugging everyone, wishing us all Merry Christmas individually.
Hale smirks at the interruption, well aware of how I’ll hate the suspense, and I flick him off like the lady I am.
Resigning myself to my fate, I follow the crowd like the sheep I’m forced to be and settle in to eat with my family.
As I devour the food, I think of all the gifts I got for each of them. Excitement and nerves course through me. Giving gifts is my absolute favorite part of this holiday, but I’m always nervous they won’t like them. There’s something beautiful about seeing the spark of joy light up someone's face and knowing you had a hand in making that happen, but it’s no small responsibility.
Once I’m done eating, I push the plate away and rub my stomach, moaning at how painfully bloated I am. Why can I never make myself stop when I know I'm getting full? Oh, wait—because food is life.
Beth goes to her room to grab the presents that she’s stashed away as I continue my complaining. "I think I'm having twins by the size of this food baby." Rubbing my bump, I add, "If I went on the Maury show, I think the two baby daddy options would be bacon and pancakes. I just can't get enough of them."
Ash chokes on the bite of food he just took while Leo cackles, slapping him on the back.
Because I’m a glutton for punishment, I shove another piece of bacon into my mouth and moan at the flavor. Maple bacon is the best.
The guys become eerily quiet, staring at me with unreadable looks on their faces, and I scoff. “What? You act like you’ve never seen a lady enjoy her food before. Losers.”
Chapter 8
Lana
Each of us has a mug of hot chocolate cupped in our hands as we sit around the tree, the presents tucked away in the corner of the living room. We went for the white Christmas look this year so there’s fake snow covering all the branches and a combination of blue, silver, and white ornaments around the room, topped off with a white snowflake on the top of the tree.
It's glaringly obvious which presents were wrapped by the guys and which were handled with care by Beth and I. Ours are perfectly folded, taped, and tied off with silver ribbons and bows. I went with teal wrapping paper with bright white snowflakes that I fell in love with at the store. I'm a sucker for anything teal.
The guys, however, went for plain brown paper with their names scrawled onto each box in black sharpie. It looks like an entire roll of tape was used on each box as well.
Laughing, I rise and head to the kitchen to retrieve the scissors that will most definitely be needed to open those, as well as a few garbage bags for the trash.
As I walk back in, the twins are sprawled out on the ground in their onesies, but they at least had the decency to cover Santa’s private parts with red boxers, considerate of Beth's unspoiled eyes. Zedd is chatting with Beth, who is sat in her recliner, and they’re both laughing at whatever was said.
I look around for the remaining two and come to an abrupt halt when I notice Hale and Ash in a stand-off, openly glaring at each other.
What the hell?
Marching up to them, I clear my throat, trying to get their attention, but when that fails, I shrug and throw the trash bags at their faces. They bat the flying plastic bags away and turn their scowls to me.
Unperturbed, I raise an eyebrow at them. "What could have possibly happened in the one minute that I was gone?"
Ash mumbles something under his breath that I can't hear, his face looking like he's mocking whatever Hale had said.
Hale glares at him bef
ore turning to me, smiling sweetly. "It's nothing, Little One. Have a seat so we can start opening presents."
He sits down on the floor and pats the space between Ash and him. Deciding to not pry, I take his offer and head to him and plop down.
Holding the scissors up in front of me, I look between the two of them before whispering quietly, a crazed look in my eyes. "Don't make me fucking shank you both on Christmas. I'll do it. Behave."
Ash actually looks a bit afraid and at first, I'm offended that he thinks I'm really crazy enough to do that, but that quickly morphs into pride at my threat being taken seriously for once.
Hale just looks exasperated and I open and close the scissors in his direction to emphasize my point. He needs to take my brand of crazy seriously.
Beth directs Zedd, pointing out which of her presents belong to whom as he passes them around. Upon her command, we all open them at the same time.
Inside is a thick sweater with only a few white letters visible. I quickly shake out the dark green material, unfolding it, and hold it up to read the letters on the back. My eyes mist with tears and my face begins to heat as I try to contain the waterworks that are threatening to explode.
On the front is a Christmas tree with a bauble hanging from a branch, holding each of our first names inside, her name hovering protectively over us. On the back, "Sanders Clan" is stitched in fine cursive, big and bold for the world to see.
Sanders is her last name. Because we were never officially adopted, we don’t share her last name. Although she had wanted to adopt us, and we wanted her to as well, the price had been astronomical for her to adopt six children. Even just changing our names was more of a financial burden than we could afford at the time. Thankfully, we were old enough to understand the value of a dollar and swore to her that a piece of paper wouldn't change the fact that she was our mother, even if she was only our foster mom to the legal system.
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