Mistlehoe

Chapter 1- It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas

Holly

'I bet he makes the ladies jingle all the way.' The words Gloria — my very inappropriate and crass friend — said months ago, echo through my mind, putting ideas in my head that definitely shouldn't be there.

Who am I kidding? As I rake my eyes over the delicious man in question, I know there isn't a single thing I wouldn't let him do to me.

Seriously.

What I wouldn't give to have his long, thick, hard candy cane in my…no.

Stop.

What the fudge is wrong with me?

I cannot.

I repeat.

I cannot, under any circumstance, be drooling, practically salivating, over my boss…who also happens to be none other than my ex-boyfriend's father, Chris.

Feeling my cheeks flame brighter than Rudolph's nose, I glance around to see if anyone noticed me eyeing the gorgeous man currently stringing up early Christmas decorations.

To my credit, any human alive with the gift of sight would have the same naughty thoughts and reactions that I am having seeing this hunky Santa of a man in action.

He is exactly how I imagine a DILF Santa to look like.

Yum.

Today has been gruelling.

I've already had to suffer through watching him haul out the boxes from the basement, enduring how fuckable he looks when he flexes his muscles.

And, let's not forget how I'm currently moaning at the rugged patch of skin above his jeans each time his shirt rides up as he nails his handmade candy on the roof.

There's just something about a man who has body hair.

It makes them more rough.

More manly.

I'm not even going to get into his ass.

I've spent far too many times wondering what it would look like with my bite marks on his cheeks.

Oh, holy snowballs, why won't my mind stop with these thoughts? I know exactly why.

I've had a crush on this man since I stepped foot in his store months ago.

Too bad I made the mistake of getting with his son.

My mind has wandered down so many sinfully salacious fantasies that, at this point, it's just unhealthy for me to be thinking these things and not doing anything about it.

God, I need sex.

I'm in desperate need of an orgasm.

He isn't helping my deluded fantasies at all by being the epitome of my dream man.

Gah, he's creating a whimsical winter wonderland in the lead-up to Christmas, all because I told him I was obsessed with the festive season.

He even declared that this year's theme is 'Winter's Christmas' after my last name, Winter.

Swoon.

His thoughtfulness, coupled with his sexiness, is sure to crucify me at some point.

He assures me that by the time he's done, the store will resemble Santa's home at the North Pole.

Every time he says the word 'pole,' my eyes lustfully drift down to his groin just for a moment.

My mind then creates every filthy scenario it can about how he could use his said pole. On me.

Pushing myself off the counter to distract my wayward thoughts about the man who has featured in all my dirty dreams for almost a year, I busy myself with restocking the caramel.

One square at a time.

One square at a time.

Come on, Holly, just keep piling the sugary gooeyness on top of each other.

That’s it, one square at a time, I think to myself.

Maybe if I inwardly chant enough, I'll forget about how I wish his thick beard would tickle me between my legs, grazing my very dripping pussy.

He'd win by a mile if he ever entered a beard competition.

It wasn't long like a typical Santa Claus beard, nor was it fluffy or white.

It was thick, and silver jagged scruff around his jaw and mouth, and every part of me wanted to feel it burn between my thighs.

Jesus, I'm such a secret slut for him.

I don't know how I got into this sticky mess.

That's a lie.

I know exactly how I spun myself into a sugar frenzy.

It all began earlier this year when I was offered an apprenticeship at Sugarplum Treats and Sweets at Peppers Lodge in Cradle Mountain.

It's an old-fashioned lolly and sweet shop owned by Chris Blitzen, aka the sexy Santa himself.

I set my sights on the coveted apprenticeship years ago when I was certain I wanted to become a confectionary maker, much to the disgust and dismay of both of my lawyer parents.

When I was old enough to leave school in Year Ten, I began a certificate in Food Processing at TAFE.

Years later, with my Certificate III under my belt, I started work experience for a small chocolatier in Melbourne, but it wasn't my passion.

I wanted to learn more about sugar work, toffee, lollies, and other sweets.

My obsession with all things sugar began right here at Sugarplum Treats and Sweets, but I was only eleven, much too young to understand that this would become my addiction ten years later.

My parents took me and my older brother on a holiday to Tasmania, and we stayed right here at Peppers Lodge.

I don't remember much from our Tassie trip, only that there were lots of dull mountains covered in snow and icy waterfalls that my parents made us traipse around.

After what felt like hours and a lot of nagging later, they caved to my complaints, and we found our way into the lolly store that would become my favourite place for the remainder of the trip.

Every day, I would beg Mum to buy me a hot chocolate or steal money from my dad's wallet to buy myself a couple of truffles.

I remember spending hours mesmerised at how the confectionary makers behind the glass were moulding chocolate or twisting colourful candy into all different shapes and sizes.

After that trip, I practically begged my parents to enrol me in cooking classes—specifically ones that made sweets.

Of course, they said no, so I sneakily signed myself up and told them I was studying when I was actually at lessons.

It's not like they would have cared anyway, as they were absent most of the time.

By sixteen, I had mastered making most desserts, but deep in my heart, I still wanted to learn how to make lollies.

When the chance came up to apply for this apprenticeship, I threw everything into my application.

I designed my own slab of toffee and lasered my resume on it.

Instead of delivering it by post, I hopped on a plane and hand-delivered it to Chris.

To say he was impressed would put it lightly.

He adored my application so much that he hired me on the spot and hung my resume on the wall behind a glass casing.

I smile at the memory as I stare at my ingenious work above me.

A week later, I moved from Melbourne to Tasmania.

In hindsight, I should have been more prepared because when I got here, I realised that on my dwindling savings, I wasn't going to be able to cover renting a cabin.

Pigs would fly before my parents ever stepped in to see me succeed.

They said once I was done 'playing around in the kitchen' and came home to pursue a real career, they would help me out.

My only option was to live out of a motel a fair way away from Peppers until I saved enough to live closer.

I met Cole shortly after I started working here.

At first, he seemed sweet, and we had a great time together, but my feelings never eventuated past friendship.

As time went on, his true colours gradually began to show.

Being in my early twenties, in a foreign state, with few friends and little to no money, I stayed with him far longer than I should.

There was also the added complication that he was Chris' son, so breaking up with him became more challenging, mainly because we all worked together.

I finally built up the courage to break it off with him once and for all four months later.

One negative outcome of the breakup is that I went back to spending all my nights living in a dingy motel rather than just a few when I used to crash at his.

Another downside is that I still have to see Cole because he also works at the store, but quite frankly, work is a loose term for what he does.

He ducks in and out whenever he pleases, steals the candy, and has no respect for his father or any of us working here.

He also continues to taunt me over my supposed 'hobby,' makes fun of the way I look — which is apparently like a virgin Mary — and constantly puts me down.

What makes me despise him even more than his immaturity and selfishness is that he has point-blank told his dad that he plans to sell the shop when he eventually retires.

The light in Chris's usual warm hazel eyes dimmed when he was told that the store that had been in his family for generations would be deconstructed and each part sold off.

'Holly, angel?' Chris' honeyed voice calls from the ladder he's currently standing on.

'Yes, Mr.

Blitzen.' He's told me to call him Chris a hundred times, but I feel if I began, I'd moan his name instead — like I do when I'm in the shower alone with the showerhead between my legs.

'Holly, sweetie, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Chris? Christ, you make me sound so old,' he chuckles, smiling, running his hands down his face.

If this is what old looks like, count me in.

I mean, he's toned and chiselled to perfection.

I'm pretty sure having abs as well as a fuckable face should be illegal.

I know he says he's old, but he's not.

He's just older at forty-one to my twenty-one.

'Sorry.

Did you need something, Chris?' I giggle as I pop a lemon drop in my mouth.

He takes my breath away every time he addresses me with an affectionate name, which in turn makes my mouth dry, so the tart lemon drop is the ideal way to lubricate that problem.

'Uh…yeah.' He looks flustered as he scratches his neck.

'Cole just texted and said he can't make his shift.

Something about a scratchy throat.' I want to roll my eyes, but I refrain.

He probably just wanted to play PlayStation.

'I hate to ask this, but can you work a double?'

My shoulders deflate because I hoped to experiment with a new flavour of jelly beans tonight in my tiny kitchenette.

On the other hand, I could use the extra money to move into something a little better.

'Sure,' I say as cheerfully as I can.

His grin widens when I agree.

'Gloria will come in to take over at the front, and maybe you and I can work in the back together?' Suddenly, I'm giddy at the prospect of being alone with him.

With the toothy smile I toss back at him, I have no doubt he can see my molars.

Jumping up and down on the spot like an excited kid in a candy shop, I nod enthusiastically.

'I can't wait.' I swear, as I bounce, his gaze flickers to my chest, but I must just be horny because there's no way he would look at me that way, let alone his son's ex-girlfriend.

I wish.

The afternoon flies by, and I'm not unhappy about it because it means sooner than later, I'll be in close proximity to Chris, and that's always my favourite place to be.

Apart from more often than not being high on sugar fumes in the confined workspace, I also tend to find myself intoxicated by how he always smells like cinnamon.

It's a heady, manly, rich aroma of spices that are both sexy and sweet at the same time.

I have no doubt he tastes just as mouth-watering as he smells.

My only theory is that it must be the beard oil he uses or something unique like that because it can't be any off-the-shelf deodorant you buy at the grocery store.

I've definitely sniffed him a fair few times behind his back, which makes me a colossal pervert, but it's hard not to when it assails my senses.

'Hey, did I tell you that the new Christmas uniforms came in?' I nonverbally shake my head as he nails another string of candy stars with his hammer into the roof.

'Holly?' He repeats his statement.

This time, I quickly answer.

'No, you didn't.

What do they look like?' I ask hesitantly, hoping we aren't elves or something equally unattractive, like a reindeer.

I know I shouldn't be thinking this way, but I want to look a little sexier for him.

'Well, the guys will hate me because they have to wear green tights and little elf hats, but I think my girls will love me.

You can choose between being an angel or Santa's little helper.'

Before I can stop the word vomit, the words are out of my mouth.

'And who's Santa?' My voice is far too breathy and inappropriate.

'Me, of course.' He winks.

He freaking winks.

My mouth is agape as he turns back to decking out the shop.

In the history of all Santas, he will undoubtedly be the most fuckable Santa.

If Santa looked like him when taking your annual Christmas photo, I know one hundred percent that women of all ages would be lining up to sit on his lap.

Clearing my throat at that jealous thought, I mumble, 'Well, I'm happy to be an angelic angel or your little helper.' 'There's even a Mrs.

Claus outfit.'

A coughing fit attacks my lungs as I splutter at the thought of one of us lucky girls matching him.

I fish my drink bottle below the counter and gulp it down to cease my episode.

Oh, please, please, pretty please, let me be his wife for the afternoon.

'You alright, love?' Concern laces his voice.

I mutely nod at him, embarrassment creeping across my face that he witnessed me wordless at the thought of being Mrs. Claus.

Thank God customers walk into the store so I now have something to distract myself with.

Rounding the counter, I beeline for the cute family of four with a tray of bespoke local chocolates that we create right here in Cradle Mountain from the locally grown produce.

It's Chris' pride and joy, and I have to say mine too.

The flavours are unique and practically burst on your tongue.

'Welcome to Sugarplum Sweets and Treats.

Would you like a free sample of our famous Cradle Mountain chocolate? We have three flavours, including Mountain Pepper, Leatherwood Honey, and Mountain Current.'

'Oh, aren't you just darling!' the mum drawls in an American accent, scanning my old-fashioned uniform.

It's just one of the many things I love about working here.

It is a pretty red and white candy striper dress with a tutu layer underneath that flares out.

I usually pair it with white knee socks with red bows at the top of my thigh and complete the look with either a red bow or matching candy striper hat that gets pinned on.

When I'm in the back, I have the usual chef whites on.

I do a little curtsy to highlight the effect of the uniform.

'Please let me know if I can help you.

We have just about everything here.' I offer them the tray of assorted sweets I'm holding, and each parent takes a sample.

'Are your kids allowed to try one?' I have to ask in case they have any allergies.

'Afraid not, both are allergic to peanuts,' the dad responds.

Bending down so I'm face-to-face with the adorably pouting children, I offer an alternative.

'Oh well, in that case, how about we look at the lollies, and you can try whichever one you want?' Instantly, their frowns turn upside down, and both cheer up and down.

'Follow me.'

After a fun-filled fifteen minutes of stocking their baskets, they leave with hundreds of dollars’ worth of goods.

I wave and smile as they put on their gloves and head out into the snowy weather.

It doesn't matter if it's almost summer in Australia; Cradle Mountain is blanketed in perpetual Winter.

'You're so good with kids, sweetheart.' Chris creeps up behind me, making me jump.

I love how he always calls me some sort of nickname.

I blush at his statement.

'I really love kids.' I turn my head toward him, and we're entirely too close, but I don't want to move.

'They love you too.' I melt into his compliment, getting lost in his rich brown eyes.

The description of ‘brown eyes’ just doesn't do them justice.

They have streaks of honey throughout, with flecks of gold.

They're startling and so much more than just boring brown.

'They're so innocent and always so happy when they come here.

It's like we make their whole day.

You make their whole day, probably their whole trip, Chris, by having this wonderful store.' I twirl around, looking at what I consider my own personal Disneyland.

'Would be nothing without you and the rest of the team, sugar.

How about you take a break before Gloria gets here.' He nods his head to the back.

'I'll take the front for a while.' I really don't want to leave the little bubble we're in, but my stomach protests as a gruesome grumble echoes around us.

'Someone must be starving.' He has no idea just how starving I am for him.

'I think my two-minute noodles are definitely calling me.'

My whole world stops when he unties my apron.

The bow is resting at the base of my spine, touching the tip of my ass.

His skilled fingers burn through my clothes, and I feel the heat in every layer of my skin.

A lava-like sensation courses through my body, making me feverish.

Before I head towards a hallucinogenic state where I imagine he rips off the rest of my clothes and fucks me on the counter, I step away from him.

'Don't forget to get yourself a pumpkin-spiced chai.

It's a lot sweeter this batch, it'll get you through the next several hours,' he yells after me.

I'm grateful for his generosity.

Without abusing the privilege, Chris has always extended any product to his employees for free.

I know that his son takes that to mean, 'stock up on hundreds of dollars every time he leaves the store.' It's no wonder he has a pudgy Santa belly.

It's crazy how he and Chris are even related.

As I slurp my noodles, I replay Chris' hands touching me when he helped remove my apron.

It only makes me more flustered.

When I return, I see Gloria ringing up a sale.

I adore her.

She's my closest girlfriend here.

Gloria, like me, is twenty-one.

But unlike me, she still lives at home with her parents and five siblings.

This job is just that — a job for her, whereas this is my life.

When she isn't here, she's studying to become an actuary, which is completely opposite to anything I'd ever want to do.

'Holly!' she squeals as I approach.

'Gloria!' I cry back, tugging her into me for a hug.

I feel like none of our schedules have aligned lately, and it sucks.

As we break away, she wraps her arm around my shoulder.

I'm significantly shorter than her and look more like her little sister.

I have a 'fresh face,' or soCole has told me one too many times.

I didn't think looking younger was a bad thing until he drummed it in my head over and over about how it doesn't hold any sex appeal.

'Sorry to cut in on this lovefest,' Chris jokes.

'Holly, give me maybe thirty minutes and then meet me at the back?' What he says is entirely platonic, but yet again, my pussy mistakes it for some salacious, dirty, forbidden hookup.

If my pussy could, it would purr at the sound of his voice.

I smile and nod.

When he walks behind the doors, Gloria gives me a look, quirking an eyebrow.

She knows I have a serious crush on Chris, and her being the bad girl she is keeps feeding my obsession.

'Bit of hanky panky in the back hey, with daddy Claus?' she swats my ass with the tea towel she's holding to wipe the bench.

'Stop it,' I whisper, my eyes darting to the cameras around the store.

'He could hear you!'

She bursts out laughing, squirting spray and wipe directly on the chocolate powder that has spilled around the barista station.

'There's no sound.'

'Well, he can still see me flush.' 'Oh, you're blushing alright.

Rosy red cheeks and all.' I shake my head at how audacious she is.

The rush has died down, giving us plenty of time to catch up.

'How's university?' Leaning on the counter to alleviate some of my back pain from standing all day.

'Meh, so, so.

I have a crush on one of my professors.'

'You can't go there,' I say, deadpan.

'Who says I can't?' Her surreptitious tone tells me she's already gone there.

'Gloria!' My eyes widen as she cracks up.

'Trust me, he's my version of Chris.

So, so, so yummy.' I baulk, turning away, not wanting to suffer through any more humiliation.

I'm conscious Chris could turn on the monitors at any moment.

'Anyway,' she says, changing the subject, 'Have you thought more about you know…' Her voice trails off.

I know exactly what she's talking about, and yes, yes, I have. A lot.

Gloria has noticeably gone silent, and her eyes are shiftily raking me over.

As she bites her lip, waiting for my answer, I all but snap.

'I think I want to do it,' I blurt, slouching down onto the counter and covering my face in my hands to hide my reddened face.

'Yes!' she hoots and hollers, jumping up in the air and startling me in the process.

'You little freak! I love this for you!' I snort like a pig, my eyes widening before bursting into laughter.

A couple of weeks ago, I confided in Gloria that I wanted to fulfil some very specific fantasies and relieve all this sexual tension coursing through my body.

For some time, I have been researching different apps and sex clubs.

Upon my research, I stumbled across something that ticked all my boxes and so niche that my pussy had been dripping pretty much ever since.

'I'm so nervous and excited.

Maybe I shouldn't…I don't know if I should…' I backtrack, shaking my head at all these doubtful inner thoughts creeping in.

Taking both of my hands in hers, she forces me to look at her.

'What? Why not? You're young and sexy, even if that douche of an ex-boyfriend doesn't think so.

You have a body that would drive men mad, and not to mention you have this sweet and sexy virginal thing going on.

Plus, let's not forget you love Christmas.

Imagine having sex by a cosy fire, or I don't know, dressing up as a sexy Mrs.

Claus? Come on! This was made for you and a sure way to get back on the sleigh, if you know what I mean?'

Everything she said was true.

This couldn't be more up my alley.

Pulling her phone from her front pocket, she scrolls until she clicks on an app with a mistletoe image.

The home screen comes alive, and the word Mistlehoe appears on it.

The name is so cute and clever that I do a little jiggle to stifle the tingle I feel deep in my belly.

Mistlehoe promises to fulfil and satiate all your Christmas desires.

The app allows you to connect with people by looking at their fantasies.

You can either meet at a predetermined location or choose to visit the pop-up sex club associated.

'Look.' She shoves the app in my face so that I'm squinting at the screen.

'You could have some serious fun on here.

You can even start in the 'nice' categories and work your way up to some 'naughty' R-rated fun! This guy wants to make hot chocolate, cuddle, and watch Christmas movies.

All he wants at the end of the night is a kiss.' She clutches the phone to her chest.

'How nice! You might even meet someone!' I snatch the phone out of her hand, filtering the fantasies.

I click the 'naughty' tab and hold my breath as it loads.

I won't lie.

I'm lured in by all the naughty fun I could have.

I mean, it sounds outrageous, but the more I scroll, the more I want to see.

Even more so, I hate to admit that my panties are soaked at the prospect of living out every one of my Christmas fantasies.

Like I said, I need an orgasm.

'This is it! It's all anonymous too with masks, and you can choose to meet at the pop-up sex club, or wherever, as long as the location is entered in on the app.'

The more I scroll through the dates, the wetter my undies get at the thought of playing Mrs.

Claus or watching my favourite Christmas movie, Jingle All the Way .

I even like the idea of sucking a candy cane or two...or three…or four…or more.

Moving to Tasmania has killed my libido, or it could have just been Cole.

He didn't really get the oven going if you know what I mean, but I've always been a highly sexual person.

I for sure know my libido isn't dead whenever I look at Chris, but there has been no one since Cole, and I'm like a tightly wound coil.

Even when I was with Cole, there was only ever the occasional pity fuck.

I don't know who pitied who more.

Me or him, but I can tell you now it wasn't anything to write home about.

Things were stale.

'I need this,' I finally say, my eyes trained on the screen.

'Yes!' Gloria does a little jiggle that makes me laugh.

'You cannot tell anyone,' I remind her, refiling the serviette dispensers.

'Also, I kind of hate you right now for putting these thoughts in my head just before I'm about to spend hours making lollies with Chris.' I throw a loan serviette at her in frustration.