Holiday Hell

by Liz Meldon

  That was seven hours to go.

  Tired, sore, with her patience stretched pretty damn thin, Elise busied herself in the doll aisle, a familiar haunt this month, and straightened things up during a rare moment of peace. The lull before the next storm.

  And then she saw it.

  Jack’s white whale.

  The blue-haired Miss Molly. Six of them. Just sitting there innocently, waiting to be mobbed by desperate parents. She had no clue if Jack would be in tonight. She hadn’t seen him since the cash register incident, though he’d been on her mind every time she saw that uneaten chocolate bar in her locker.

  Whether he was coming in or not, he wasn’t going to strike out this time. Yanking the price-adjuster gun off her belt with a grunt, she grabbed a blue-haired Miss Molly and tacked a 50% off sticker across the front of the box. Then, merchandise under her arm, she scrolled through the gun to the defective label and added that too. Her cheeks warmed as she stared down at it, the first smile of the day crossing her lips, and then hurried to the back warehouse, pretending not to hear the customers who tried to flag her down. On the way, she made a subtle rip across the bottom of the box, holding it flush to her slightly hunched body so the camera wouldn’t see. It was the best she could do, but she wanted to do it for Jack and his little girl.

  Just in case he showed. Just in case Christmas miracles were real.

  After stashing the reduced box at the back of the warehouse, the stock guys too busy with their own form of holiday hell to pay attention to her, Elise begrudgingly returned to the floor and kept an eye out for a man with model good looks who made her heart pitter-patter like they were two lovers on a cheesy TV Christmas special.

  It was all over. Christmas Eve was here—and not a blue-haired Miss Molly in sight.

  Jack Lewis was, officially, the worst dad on the planet. He stood there, arms hanging limp at his side, and stared at the messy shelves. Barbie and Miss Molly boxes strewn everywhere. Clearly the specific one he wanted had been snapped up early in the day. This was what he got for showing up at Bennington’s at eight o’clock, December 24th. The store closed in three hours. The sheer number of people in there was astronomical, and Jack felt as though he stood two inches tall amongst them. Sure, they were all last-minute shoppers, but he was the one who was going to disappoint his little girl.

  At least he wouldn’t see her face tomorrow morning—not that that made it any better. She and Gloria were already in Florida. He would call, of course, so he could hear Maya’s voice—and pretend that she was at his place, opening presents on his couch, pancakes bubbling on the stove and Christmas tunes in the air.

  Whether she was here or not, it didn’t matter anymore. Jack had failed her. He had no one to blame but himself.

  Work had eaten up most of his time the last few days. After he’d told his boss he could come in, no longer needing each precious second to spend with Maya, the guy had seized the opportunity and had Jack hopping on planes and jet-setting around the country to seal last-minute deals before the holidays. At this point, he was exhausted—exhausted and pissed off. All he’d wanted was that fucking doll. He wanted to give it to Maya, see her smile, and watch her play with it. That was it. That was all Jack had wanted for Christmas this year.

  Instead, he got a bare-bones shelf and every fucking colour of doll hair in the rainbow but blue. One big fuck you after another this December.

  “Christ,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. Don’t swear. Don’t have a meltdown in the doll aisle at Bennington’s. Don’t do it.

  “Hey stranger.” The whispered greeting warmed his ear, and he whirled around to find none other than his favourite Bennington’s employee gazing up at him. She cocked her head to one side, lower lip caught between her teeth—the gesture ensnaring his gaze longer than it should have—before sighing and nodding to the shelf. “Fancy meeting you here.”

  “You should have assumed,” he muttered, sweeping a hand through his hair. “I was destined to fail one last time.”

  Elise grinned. “Maybe I can help with that.”

  Then, much to his surprise, she grabbed his hand—loosely, their fingers curved around one another—and led him out of the aisle. Their connection broke, though not by Jack’s doing, and he followed her to the far corner of the store, away from the madness of the evening shopping surge, straight to a door marked Employees Only.

  “I’m not an employee,” he protested weakly. She grabbed his wrist this time, her smile blossoming in a way that made his cock stir, and all but dragged him through the door.

  Wordlessly, Elise led him to some back corner, a tucked away little nook, the kind where you might sneak a cigarette or take a leisurely phone call on company time. He noted that here, based on their positions, the two nearby cameras seemed to just miss them—a blind spot. Elise glanced over her shoulder, then crouched down and pulled something out from under an empty wooden skid.

  “I saved one for you,” she told him. “Just in case. Made it a bit cheaper too…for your troubles.” She licked her lips, the sweep of her tongue distracting him for a few seconds. “And because you’re kind of cute.”

  “Unprofessional elf…” He studied her, waiting for her blush, and only looked down when he clued in to what the hell she was talking about.

  In her hands…was a box. The box. A blue-haired Miss Molly. Besides the rip in the cardboard packaging across the bottom, it looked perfect. Jack stared at it until his eyeballs dried out, unable to accept what was right in front of him. His heart hammered hard against his ribcage. His palms coated themselves in a cold sweat. He couldn’t feel his toes. Only when Elise nudged it at him did he accept it, a tremor skittering through his hands.

  “You…” For once, words failed him. “You…”

  Elise sighed dreamily. “I know. I’m a real-life Santa’s elf. You don’t have to thank me. Thank the big guy—”

  Unable to stop himself, Jack smothered her words with a kiss—thanking her in the only way he could think of. The only way he wanted to.

  Elise—beautiful, sweet, gorgeous Elise—had also been on his Christmas wish list this year. Jack just hadn’t realized it until now.

  Eight

  Christmas Wish Come True

  A great internal debate raged between Elise’s desire for Jack and her dwindling professionalism for this job. A little voice at the back of her head told her to just kiss him a bit, then slowly break away and revisit this at another time. Said voice was squashed out by a raging she-beast known as lust, and Elise threaded her fingers through Jack’s luscious dark hair and gave a little tug, just for good measure. A groan reverberated in his chest, the vibrations shooting straight down to the crest of her sex.

  Of course he was a fantastic kisser. A man who looked like Jack was probably skilled in all manner of bedroom deeds, but she was sure they wouldn’t broach that here and now. While the warehouse was quiet in this area, ignored by stressed-out stock guys trying to keep up with the crazy demand on the floor, Elise knew that one thick cement wall separated her from the madness—madness she really ought to be getting back to.

  “W-wait. What are we doing?” she mumbled against his lips, her hands sliding to his chest—and gripping the front of his jacket all by themselves. Jack broke away, but only just, their foreheads resting against one another, hot breath mingling, and it was only then that Elise realized how comfortable it all felt. Sure, her body was on fire, every inch of skin ablaze and every nerve ending firing on all cylinders, but considering she still hardly knew him, the moment ought to be stranger. Tense. A smack in the face that would send her running. Only, she didn’t want to go anywhere. Not home. Not back to the floor. Not out into the cold December night, the icy streets and frigid wind better than any cold shower. She wanted to be right here, with him. Or, ideally, somewhere more private—but with him.

  “I… You… The doll,” was his eloquent response, and she found herself grinning, one hand wandering up to cup his face.

 
; “You’ve always had a way with words.”

  He chuckled and stole a quick kiss. “Do you want to stop?”

  “No.” She stole another one, and another, their lips lingering longer and longer each time. “I was just having a moment. Do you want to, er, you know…stop?”

  His smile was like adding kerosene to her already smoldering fire.

  “No,” Jack rumbled, his arm curving around her waist and guiding her hips to his. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you for weeks. I just want to be here with you for a few minutes, if that’s okay? I want you all to myself, for once…”

  Elise responded with a kiss, her heart happy. It was supposed to be a sweet sort of kiss, tinged with unsaid longing and newfound cheer, but then Jack nipped at her lower lip, catching it between his teeth and sucking just hard enough to make her whimper. Suddenly, all her thoughts of a triumphant return to the toy department shot straight to hell.

  She dragged him closer, the weight of his wonderfully sculpted body against hers doing terrible things to her nether regions. Not able—or willing—to stop, Elise widened her stance and let him slip between her thighs. One grind of his hips, one feel of his steadily hardening shaft, and she was sold. This was happening. Right here. Right now. And it wasn’t going to be for just a couple of minutes, either.

  Tipping her head back, she sucked in a gasp as Jack’s lips dropped from her mouth to her jaw, pressing hot little nibbles across her skin as he made his way down to her neck. Her hand tightened in his hair as goosebumps erupted across the sensitive flesh, his mouth devouring her secret sweet spot like a starved man. A moan slipped out before she could stop it, her hips bucking against his. The Miss Molly box had found a temporary home on the floor, out of sight and out of mind.

  Apparently, all she and Jack needed was an excuse to rip each other’s clothes off—any excuse would do. Elise could get used to this. Her eyes scrunched closed when he sucked hard just below her collarbone, the faint hint of pain making her squirm in the most delicious way possible.

  Then, out of nowhere, his head popped up, both of them breathing a little harder now, and then nodded at her vest. “Can we take this awful thing off?”

  “Fuck yes.”

  She all but cried her response, as if yanking off that hideous Christmas vest was like a climax in and of itself. They worked together to drag it off her shoulders, little chuckles and giggles shared between them, and it soon joined Miss Molly on the dusty warehouse floor, forgotten. Jack cupped her face and pressed a hard, firm kiss to her lips, one that stole her breath away—one that declared her for his own. If she were the swooning type, Elise might have.

  “Everything e-else should probably, uh, mostly stay on,” she whispered when his hands dropped to her pants and popped open the button. No way was she letting another Bennington’s employee find her totally nude at the back of the warehouse. Not happening. Jack pulled away suddenly, but she clenched her thighs around him so as not to lose him completely.

  “Right, is this… Is it okay that we’re—”

  Elise tugged him back by the thick fabric of his black trench coat. “More than okay.”

  Their lips met in a storm of tongue and teeth and soft moans, fierce from first contact. Like the blizzards had had rocked Fort Trent for the last week, there was no containing them—no slowing, no way to stop the buildup. Just hunker down and wait it out, until the raging winds and the merciless onslaught of ice and snow ebbed. Until the storm passed. For now, Elise wanted to be right in the thick of it, her body heightened to even the slightest caress—through layers of clothes no less.

  Fabric barrier or not, when Jack cupped her, she felt it. Like fire lapping at her clit, the bud aching for attention, the flames licking higher into her belly and up to her nipples, which hardened to stiff peaks: desperate to be free, to be tweaked, to be suckled with his hot mouth until she couldn’t stand it a second longer.

  This wasn’t the place for that. At the back of the warehouse, there was only time for hurried touches over clothes—which killed her. She would have loved to see Jack’s muscular frame, bare and exposed, draped over her as she writhed beneath him.

  But this would do—for now. They’d revisit it after her shift.

  After rubbing her over her pants, Jack hastily undid her zipper and slipped one hand beneath her panties—no hesitation, no nothing. She inhaled sharply, lips pursed in a surprised oh as his cool fingers slid between her slick folds.

  “So… hot,” he whispered against her cheek, words wrapped in a satisfied groan, then swallowed her whimpers as his thumb swept over the swollen nub at the helm of her sex. Elise trembled against him, pleased that his solid frame kept her upright as he tormented her, alternating his touch, his kiss, between hard and soft, slow and fast, dragging her ever closer to a breathtaking climax; she savored every step of the way, bucking her hips up against his hand, her own fisted in his jacket as she mewled into his mouth, a mouth that kept her noises muffled—a mouth that kept their secret from the rest of Bennington’s that Christmas Eve.

  Her body stiffened, core twitching with each gentle caress of her clit, the movements a complement to his beautiful torment. Faint pleasurable tendrils unfurled across her figure, a taste of what was to come.

  She almost—almost—came completely undone when he slipped not one, but two fingers into her, massaging her from the inside and out, fingers working her inner walls while his thumb tortured her clit with slight yet constant pressure. A cry tore from her lips as her climax finally erupted, but Jack smothered the sound as best he could with his free hand, still working her relentlessly with the other as she rode out wave after wave of ecstasy. For a few seconds, the warehouse actually went black, and there was nothing but the feel of him between her thighs, the smell of his aftershave, and the taste of peppermint on his tongue as he kissed her. Her whole world was just Jack, start to finish, until she finally floated back into her body and remembered where they were.

  And, frankly, Elise didn’t care.

  “This seems like a long shot,” she whispered, fighting her moan when he eased his fingers out of her, the movement sending spasms of pleasure through her already weak thighs, “but…do you have a condom with you?”

  He chuckled, voice husky and coloured with desire. “Are you always this insatiable?”

  Elise replied honestly: “No.”

  She wasn’t the type to have sex with a guy she’d only met a handful of times, either, but there was something in the air… She blamed it on the magic of Christmas.

  More likely, it was just Jack.

  Breath catching in his throat, he hastily dug out his wallet. The look on his face—like a kid on Christmas morning finding a boatload of presents under the tree.

  “I normally never carry these,” he insisted, cheeks tinged with heat, and Elise plucked the shiny little square out of his hand, then looked pointedly down at his belt, lips twisted in a suggestive grin. His cock had been pressed up against her this whole time, straining to be free, and she wished they had the time for her to give it a little taste test. After all, Jack had been so generous with her; it only seemed right to return the favor. But with the furious motions of his hands unbuckling and unzipping everything, clearly he didn’t mind skipping straight to the main event.

  Another time, then. Her grin blossomed into something more at the thought, something both sincere and mischievous, and she quickly dispensed with the condom wrapper, then pulled her black dress pants down so one leg was free—skinny-fit trousers and quickies were so not compatible.

  “We…” Jack cleared his throat, his burning gaze boring into hers. “We don’t have to. We can slow things down, if you want?”

  Slowly, she let herself look down, eyes widening at what she saw. It took her a second to realize her mouth was hanging open like a fish on a hook, and Elise shook her head.

  “Uh, no.” What a package. What a perfectly sized, not too big, not too small, just right cock. Groomed, too, like he’d been exp
ecting company. Where the hell had this guy been all her life? “No. We don’t have to. Do you want to? I don’t want to, anyway. I mean, we can wait, or, if you want, not. I mean… We can wait. Or stop. If you want.”

  What was she saying? Were words even coming out of her mouth, or was it just random babbling?

  “Not even a bit,” he said, then hissed softly when she rolled the condom on, his fingertips digging into the underside of her thigh. “Just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

  “I’m great. Seriously.” Elise rubbed her hands up his chest to grasp his face. “You better take a lady to dinner after.”

  Jack smirked. “Of course. Breakfast too, I think. Whatever she wants.”

  They hesitated for a moment, until Jack leaned forward and gently rested his forehead against hers once more. Thumbs stroking his cheeks, Elise’s gaze wandered from his eyes, full of fire and lust, to his lips, full of promise and potential. Carefully, he hoisted her up, and her ankles locked behind him. Just as she drew a soft breath, ready to tell him that they might be on a bit of a time constraint that didn’t really for contemplative cuddling, he thrust into her, filling her tight sex until their hips touched. Her eyes rolled back as she pulled him close, arms wrapped around his neck and face buried in the crux of his neck and shoulder.

  So…full. So wonderfully, deliciously full. Pleasurable tingles from her recent release pulsed through her with the slightest movement, and Jack cautioned a few slow, easy thrusts, letting her get used to the size and thickness…