Page 49 of Santa's Dark Secret

She doesn’t tear her eyes off me, getting herself off on the way I watch her, and though it’s not an invitation to join, she sure as fuck doesn’t want me to leave.

“Fuck, Nick,” she cries, her chest heaving, already driving herself right to the edge as her skilled fingers work her sweet clit.

She picks up her pace, and I can’t take it any longer, pushing off the doorframe and moving into the room. Mila tracks my every step, knowing how much she’s making me suffer right now, but judging by the need in her eyes, I’m not the only onesuffering tonight. She’s worked herself up, and now that she needs more than a silicone cock, I’m not going to give it to her.

“Nick,” she begs as I make my way around her side of the bed.

I reach toward her, closing my hand around her throat and gently squeezing before leaning in close enough that she feels my breath dancing across her lips. If she wants to kiss me, all she has to do is close the gap.

“Nick, please,” she begs.

“Come for me, Mila. Let me hear how you scream for me.”

She comes almost on cue, and her desperate cries are like music to my ears.

“Fuck,” she grunts, still riding the purple cock as her fingers trail over her clit, having lost a shitload of momentum in the past few seconds. She clenches her eyes and tilts her chin up, closing the gap between us just enough to feel the slightest brush of her lips on mine, but it’s not enough to take what she really wants.

Her chest heaves, and as her orgasm fades, her body sags against the headboard, but I don’t dare release my hold on her throat. She opens her blazing eyes, and I see the desire still burning within them. “When you’re ready to be fucked properly, you know where to find me. But Mila, when you finally come to me, you better fucking beg for it.”

And with that, I make my way into the bathroom, needing to take care of the raging erection between my legs for the ninth time this week.

DECEMBER

I’m on the fucking edge. How have we made it to December without Mila caving? I know where her heart is. I haven’t questioned that for a while, but she held out just as she said she would, and now, time is almost up.

It’s Christmas Eve, the one day that means the most to us, and it’s now or never.

My knee bounces as I sit on the edge of my bed, my elbows braced against my knees as Mila showers. I feel fucking sick. There are twenty minutes before I’m due to make my way to the workshop and prepare for the biggest night of the year, and yet all I can think about is this.

She needs to make her Christmas wish, and I honestly have no fucking idea where she’s going to go with it. Growing up, I always thought I knew her better than anyone, that I could anticipate her every move, but this past year has only proven that I don’t know shit.

I’m losing my fucking mind. I can’t handle it anymore. I’ve had her here all year, watching as she’s fallen in love with my home, built lifelong friendships, and created a home out of mine, and yet she’s never felt so far away. Don’t get me wrong, the past six months have been a little easier than the first six, but I feel her slipping away. She’s preparing to bail.

The shower stops, and a wave of nerves crashes in my gut, making me feel uneasy. This is it. The second she walks out of the bathroom, I need to know. Her time has run out.

The seconds feel as though they take a lifetime, and when the bathroom door finally opens and Mila strides out, wrapped in nothing but a towel, I see my whole world.

She finds me sitting on the edge of the bed, bypasses the walk-in closet, and comes to me looking just as nervous as I feel. She steps right into me, curling her hand around the back of my head, the two of us just being until I can’t handle it a second longer.

“It’s time, Mila,” I murmur, lifting my head to meet her stare. “I need to know what you want. If you wish to go back to New York and build a life on your own, you need to tell me now. You need to make your wish.”

Tears fill her eyes, and I prepare myself for the worst. “All I’ve ever wanted was to love you and be loved in return.”

“I know,” I say, reaching out and taking her waist, ready to tell her that I’ll be okay if she needs to destroy me, that I’ll find a way to survive, but we both know it’s bullshit. I won’t survive it even a little.

“I’ve missed you this year,” she continues. “That’s ridiculous, right? I’ve been right here, but I felt as though we’ve been living two different lives. I’ve never felt so far away, and I don’t like it. Everything was so easy last Christmas back home. We fit together so well, and this whole year we’ve been strained, and I know I’m to blame for that. Perhaps I wasn’t ready for the wishes I made.”

“Mila—”

“Let me get this out,” she whispers, taking my hand from her waist and squeezing it. “I know I started this year so angry, and it took me a long time to realize I wasn’t angry with you. I was angry with myself, and now . . . I’m so confused about everything.”

I stand from the edge of the bed, holding her to me, terrified that this is it, that this is the last time I’ll ever get to hold her.

“I love you, Nick,” she tells me. “I felt it the very first time we met . . . as adults that is, but I think a part of me knew, even as kids, that you were mine and I was yours.”

“I’ve always been yours.”

She smiles against my chest. “I’ve come to realize something,” she continues. “This whole year, I’ve been so hesitant to build a life with you, and I was wrong for that. I should have put my anger aside, should have understood why you swept me away.You were saving me. I belong here with you, but I need to go back to New York.”

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