Page 105 of Gorgeous

Of being cherished.

And when she lowers her mouth to my chest and kisses the scars, I explode inside her as she sucks the very soul from my body.

“Merry Christmas, Cade.”

“Merry Christmas, B.”

“Who did this?”

Everyone struggles to contain their laughter while Anniston points at the two Elf on the Shelfs placed in a precarious position atop the decorated mantel. Amongst all the stockings, Alpha, the female elf—no surprise there—is on her knees, her face planted in Omega’s, the male elf’s, crotch. If that weren’t funny enough, the white, milky substance all over her face has my stomach cramping from holding in my laughter.

“Aww, Ans,” Theo starts, undeterred by the hate glare Anniston is rocking. It’s probably the twitch and the slight upturn of her mouth that makes him continue on without a care. “She’s just giving him a Christmas blowjob. After all, it’s the season of giving.”

Breck’s body shakes next to mine. She’s become very comfortable in this unconventional family of ours, but even she knows to hold in her laughter until Ans breaks first. This being our first official Christmas together—last time Theo was rehabbing from a gunshot wound—Anniston went all out. We tried to protest all the decorating and gift giving, but Anniston wouldn’t hear of it. So this whole Elf on the Shelf idea has been our way of participating.

For the entire thirty days of Alpha and Omega’s presence, they have been caught doing naughty—mostly pornographic—things. No one knows who does it each night, but I have to admit, after the first week, Breck and I joined in and participated in a few. And by the smile on Anniston’s face, I’m betting some of the elf shenanigans were her and Theo’s doing. Theonlyreason she is making a stink about it today is because we are having guests. And well, some people may not find our humor as amusing as we do.

Finally, Anniston breaks with heaves of laughter. “Get this cleaned up or stash them somewhere. People will be here soon.”

Theo strides over to the elves and swipes them off the mantel with one arm, right into Lawson’s stocking. Anniston insisted on him having one even though he and Nicole have been moved out for over a year now. “All clean. What’s next on this nightmarish morning, boss?”

Eyes narrowed, Anniston pinches Theo’s arm. “Get—”

The doorbell rings, and we all groan.

“Breck. Help me in the kitchen?” Anniston calls out. Breck kisses me on the cheek and pulls away to follow Ans. Have I mentioned the love I have for a woman who can cook? The old saying that a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach is not one hundred percent correct, but it holds some hard truth. Some days, Breck will text me what’s on the menu for dinner, and my stomach is growling before I can even hit reply. But when she texts me what’s on the menu for dessert—it’s not food—I am rushing her like a linebacker just so I can have a little taste before everyone gets home.

Life is good.

No, scratch that.

Life is great.

Having Breck in my life has been life altering. She has the patience of a saint, bless her heart, when dealing with my PTSD. She gives just as good as she gets from Theo, and that makes me happier than it should. She’s no longer insecure about Anniston but has developed a tight-knit friendship with her. Together they are an unstoppable force.

“Get the door, dipshit.” Theo is shoving me toward the front.

“You get it,” I argue for no other reason than to annoy him.

He scoffs. “I’m not getting it. It may be someone I have to speak to.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“I’ll get it, you fucking pussies.” Mason pushes past us with annoyance and Theo winks, holding his fist out for a bump. Grinning, I bump it back.

“Cade!” Ugh. What now? “It’s for you.” For me? I didn’t invite anyone over for Christmas.

I push past Mason and approach the door. There, standing amongst all the lights and potted Christmas trees, are my parents.

“Merry Christmas, Cade.”

Something hot and prickly spreads under my skin. I try to swallow back the feeling but it keeps coming until my mom throws her arms around me, hugging me until it gets difficult to breathe. “I hope you don’t mind,” she sniffles, the tears dampening my shirt. “Anniston invited us to spend Christmas with you.”

Damn Anniston. Never taking no for an answer. She asked me if I wanted to invite my parents but I told her they were probably busy, and not to worry about it. She obviously didn’t give a fuck.

“I’m glad you could make it,” I manage through the tight squeeze and lack of oxygen my mother is creating.

Even though I made amends with my parents over Drew’s death, it still feels a little strained between us. Mostly on my end. I’m still a work in progress.

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