Page 41 of Missiletoe
“You get eight scarves. I’ll get you all the scarves. No, wait. Can I make you a scarf? We can buy stuff at the yarn store.” I would pick out the softest yarn ever. It would be blue like his eyes. Maybe I could find some snowflake beads to put on the fringe.
“You can knit?”
“Yep! It helps when I feel twitchy. I get all the wiggliness out through my hands, and sometimes it helps fend off sleep attacks.”
I didn’t mention that sex worked out the wiggles even better. I’d ease him into that part. The Vix experience was a lot to handle, and I didn’t want to scare him away.
“I would love a scarf made by you. If you teach me how to knit, I’ll make one for you too.”
I imagined chilling by a fire, surrounded by animals, and sitting on Paris’s lap teaching him how to knit, and I couldn’t help myself, my face started leaking like there was no tomorrow. I wanted it so badly. If Baz was by the fire too, I’d probably die of happiness.
He couldn’t sit on Paris’s lap though.
I guess I’d finally found something I couldn't share with Baz. Paris was mine, and I was keeping him forever.
“Do you have a fireplace?” I asked. “I’ll get you one if you don’t. Trixie needs one.”
“Does she?” The gentle affection in Paris’s voice had me wanting to climb into his lap and do dirty things to him. Maybe our Christmas light excursion didn’t need to involve so many scarves. Just hot chocolate, yarn, and lights.
Then we could go straight to Paris’s place, and I could see about convincing him to fill my candy hole. With his dick. I’m talking about sex here, people, in case I was being too vague.
That had been the plan, anyway, until we got to Main Street. I’d nearly fallen out of Paris’s truck in my mad scramble to get out when I saw the brightly lit street.
If Paris hadn’t caught me and swooped me into his arms, I would totally have face planted trying to get down from that mammoth machine of his. It was easily eleven thousand feet tall!
Yes, that was an exact measurement. Trust me. I am an engineer.
“I don’t have jelly legs right now. You don’t have to carry me,” I said, in case that was why he was being my steed.
Paris snuggled his face into my neck before saying, “I like carrying you, but I can put you down if you want me to.”
“No! You can keep carrying me. I can see the lights better from up here anyway.” I wasn’t lying either. Instead of having to crane my neck to see past the wall of chests walking up and down the street, I had the best seat in the house.
“Let’s get you an even better view then.” Paris swung me up onto his shoulders like I was a little kid getting a ride from his dad. I wondered if Paris would let me call him Daddy while he was filling me up with his dick and made a mental note to ask later.
The lights and decorations were even more beautiful at night than they had been during the day. I especially loved the big, light-up Eeyore in a Christmas hat that I was ninety-five percent sure Baz had donated to the town just for me.
And just like a Hallmark movie, there were snow flurries in the air, sparkling in the light and transforming the entire town into something magical.
Paris walked down the sidewalk, placidly ignoring the looks we were getting. Well, the looks Paris was getting. I had no delusions about myself. Paris was stunning, and everyone was staring at him and definitely not at me. And if they were looking at me, it was obviously because they were jealous and not because they thought I was anything special.
This thought had me clenching my hands, and when I realized they were in Paris’s hair Ieepedand let go right away.
“Sorry!”
“Are you scared up there? I can bring you down.”
“No! I mean, no, I’m good. My hands are just getting cold.”
Paris made ahmmmsound and steered us to the yarn store. Without asking, he took me by the hips, lifted me over his head, and set me gently on my feet.
I gave a happy bounce. Yes, Daddy. More of that, please.
He ushered me into the store and took me right to the selection of hand-knitted mittens. Then he took my hands in his and blew on them. His hot breath on my chilled flesh had my toes curling and my dick perking right up.
I should have pulled away, but no. That wasn’t something I was capable of doing. It was all I could do to keep myself from humping his leg. Taking my hands out of his was the last thing I’d be doing.
“Do you like any of these?” Paris asked.
