Mistlehoe

Chapter 2 - Blue Christmas

Chris I've got the worst case of blue balls known to man, and it's all thanks to the little vixen who is my son's ex-girlfriend.

Ever since Holly arrived at Peppers Lodge with her toffee resume, I've been infatuated.

I've been searching my whole life for someone who has just as much of an addiction to sweets as I do.

Now I’ve found her.

It's too bad she came wrapped in an off-limits package.

She dated my son.

He probably lived inside her pussy.

I know I would.

What I wouldn't give to live inside her tight, wet pussy every day.

I'm aware I'm a sick, leering fuck.

She could be my daughter.

She's half my age, for Christ's sake, but goddamn, she doesn't act like it.

She's an old soul, wise beyond her years.

The first time I saw her, she was standing by the candy corn.

It was the end of January, and we were in full swing with our Valentine's Day range.

She'd come in and asked to see me, and someone told her to wait.

I watched her from the monitors in the back, seeing the syrupy, serene smile on her face as she took in the display and mountainous treats around her.

When I approached her, she tilted her head to look at me.

If I'm not mistaken, she audibly gasped.

She was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

Even more beguiling standing in my shop.

Ever since then, my balls have ached for her.

They're so blue; I don't even know what their normal colour looks like anymore.

For the past hour, we've been working side-by-side to create a bespoke collection of golden candy canes.

This is the time of year when visitors and guests will be looking to purchase gifts they can't buy in any store to take back home with them or to take as a souvenir.

Holly and I have fallen into an easy conversation about techniques, but silently, I've been in my own personal hell with her sweet peppermint scent lingering around us.

As she invades my senses, I'm finding it harder and harder to conceal my hard cock.

Luckily, the bench is covering it, but if I move away, there's no way you won't be able to see my inflated chef's apron.

Holly Winter beams at me as I commend her on her sugar work.

She's definitely a problem for every part of my body, from head to toe.

I'm a sucker for this girl.

She has this ice-blonde hair, which is somehow her natural colour, and it's so damn silky and smooth.

Every time her ponytail accidentally swooshes against my skin, I inwardly groan.

Her fuck me lips that have sucked on my lollies countless times are teasingly tantalising, and don't even get me started on her large, natural, perky, barely legal tits.

She also isn't stick thin, which I like.

My hands easily fit around her slim waist, but then her short frame tapers out.

She has delectable meat to grab onto around her hips, and her ass is peachy and firm and could definitively be classified as career-ending.

She simply drives me wild.

Her milky skin doesn't look like the sun has touched it in years, and her long, thick lashes frame her stormy blue eyes.

The best part about her is how rosy her cheeks get in almost any scenario.

She truly is a cross between an angel and a sexy but virginal Mrs.

Claus.

She is oblivious to just how ethereal she is.

She's perfect.

How do I know she's perfect in every way? She shares the same infatuation with Christmas that I do.

As soon as she began working here, all she wanted was for it to be November first so she could play Christmas music.

We're only at the start of the festive season and already I'm intoxicated by the smile that graces her face every time she hears Mariah's, All I Want For Christmas Is You .

She's so cheery and Christmasy.

I don't think I've ever seen a person radiate such warmth and enthusiasm for a holiday.

'Thank you for making this time of year extra special.' She fills the void of silence, rolling and moulding the warm sugar.

'Any time, honey pie.' I smile down at her cherub-like features.

'I figured not going home would put a dampener on the season for you.

Why aren't you going home?' I'm curious as the shop is closed between Christmas and New Year.

She glances down, concentrating extra hard on her technique.

I can't help noticing how dainty her hands are, which is why she's probably exquisite when doing the finer details on our chocolates.

I also can't help to think how small they'd look around my cock…or if they'd even fit.

I crave to see the size difference between us.

‘Well…um…my parents disapprove of me being here.' This is news to me.

My eyebrows shoot up into my forehead as I let her explain.

'They wanted me to become a lawyer and hated that I'd chosen something so alternative.

They pretty much cut my allowance off and cut me out of their lives.'

This shocks me and ignites the pappa bear in me.

How could a parent do that to their child? And one that is as exquisite as Holly?

I would have never cottoned on to her issues back home based on her effervescent personality.

She's the light of every customer's day and most certainly mine.

'I'm sorry, sugarplum.' The affectionate name slips from my lips.

Since she started working here, I just can't help myself.

I couldn’t very well be calling her all these pet names and no one else, so I've started saying it to all the women who work here.

I probably sound like a sleaze and, at some point, will be hit with a sexual harassment charge, but it's hard to stop when I look at Holly.

'It's fine,' she shrugs.

'I hate the motel.' Christ, she's living out of a skeevy motel.

'But it would have been a little weird if I kept shacking up with Cole.' I know my son is a jerk.

He's cocky, arrogant, and takes no pride in wanting to work hard, so I have no doubt he put in the bare minimum with Holly while they were together.

Disappointment lances through me as I think of how badly I've failed and fucked up as a father.

He's lazy and disrespectful, and truthfully, if he weren't my son, I would have fired him ages ago.

He never deserved someone as sweet and addictive as Holly.

'Do you need more shifts?' I know the apprentice pay is shit, which is why I try to roster her on at the front as much as I can, but if I give her any more, I'm afraid she might be over the legal amount of hours she should be working.

It’s a conundrum I wish I could solve.

'I could always loan you the money.' The words are out of my mouth before I can filter them.

Her glassy eyes snap toward mine in shock.

'Oh my gosh.

No.

You've already done so much for me.

I could…I could never ask that of you.' Again, her cheeks stain crimson, which makes me wonder what other parts of hers would turn bright red.

'I will figure it out.' Cocking her head and giving me a delectable view of her slender neck, I inhale another whiff of her peppermint perfume.

My tongue itches to lick every part of her.

'So, tell me about this place.

I mean, I know you inherited it from your dad.

When? Has it always been just you?'

We're deep in candy cane making for the long haul, so I guess it's natural to pass the time with conversation.

I just figured she may have already known this sad and sordid part of my life from Cole, but now I have an inkling they never spoke much at all.

'Sit down for a minute.

Relax your shoulders.

I can see they're getting stiff with the repetitiveness.' I nudge her to relax her bottom on the stool.

When she does, her small hands pinch at the tightness in her shoulders.

As she moans at the release of the muscle, I almost groan out loud.

She sounds so sexy.

To distract my cock from bursting, I answer her question.

'Dad had a brain aneurysm about five years ago.

Mum couldn't look after the shop by herself anymore, so it was passed on to me sooner.

At the time, I was competing worldwide in sugar shows, and taking on high-end clientele for their parties.

I was making a name for myself, but then everything happened with Dad, and I ended up back here.'

'Do you regret coming back here?' Her sweet voice fills the air.

'Never.' I shake my head.

'This is my home.

My legacy.

I love what I do.

I've been offered a permanent gig on Dessert Masters, so I'll start filming that next year.

I have a regular column, too, in Just Desserts.

The only things I've really given up on are competitions and travelling.

Eventually, when I have built the team to my liking, I might take those things on again, but it's hard when your heart is right here.' I stretch my arms above my head to alleviate the strain on my neck and shoulders.

'I came here about ten years ago.

I remember your parents.

They were so lovely.

The cutest grandparents.

They reminded me of the real Mr.

and Mrs.

Claus.' She giggles, covering her mouth.

'I mean, how they've been depicted in books and stuff.

I know they're not real.' She backtracks.

There's a gleam in her eyes whenever she speaks about Christmas, and it's utterly adorable.

'I don't remember seeing you though?'

'I was probably overseas somewhere.

I wasn't around much until he died.

One of my biggest regrets.

I wish I learned more from him.'

'How's your mum doing? I know she comes in occasionally, and she's still cheerful as ever, but how is she really doing?' Her empathy touches me.

It's so rare these days that the young ones are so compassionate.

Take my son, for example.

'She misses him, but she's good.

She enjoys going out with her friends and baking for the people down at the hospital.

After Christmas, I've convinced her to go on a senior cruise around the world.

Owning the shop with Dad didn't leave them much time to travel.

I don't want her to miss out on seeing the world like Dad did.'

'How sweet.' Jumping off the stool, she rejoins me at the bench.

'Your candy canes are better than mine.' I observe the gold coating.

She's also added some holly to hers, adding a special little touch.

The vibrant green of her edible petals is magnificent.

Anyone with a confectioner's eye can see she has immense talent.

'Don't lie, king of candy,' she jests, rolling her eyes.

Her sass makes me laugh.

'I'm serious.

They're phenomenal, Holly.

You have come so far this year.

You're going to be brilliant.' I mistakenly touch her arm and feel the heat of her skin through my gloves.

That heat shoots down to my cock, yet again inflating it.

'You've been my idol for so long.

Sometimes, I need to pinch myself to realise this.

Me being here is really real, you know?' My breath hitches at her words.

She looks up at me with doe eyes before flicking her head back to move a strand away from her face.

I want to move it for her so badly, but I know if I touch her again, I won't be able to contain myself.

As I stare down at her, I'm lost for words.

Anything I want to say will come out perverted, so I just smile and tell her I'm flattered.

'I think I read somewhere that you were looking for another partner.

What happened to the old one? The less talented one?' she jokes.

A bitterness coats my tongue as I relive the memories.

'Cole never told you why his mum and I broke up?' I question, rolling small red crystalised balls in my hands for the holly.

'Told me what?' 'Why she left?' she shakes her head.

'He just told me you were divorced,' she shrugs.

'When Dad passed away, his mum and I inherited this place.

Five years ago, we divorced.

Cole was sixteen.' 'Why?' She grips the candy cane as if my answer hinges on its survival.

'She cheated on me with my business partner, Joseph.

They ran away together, and she hasn't looked back.

She always checks in with Cole and has offered him to live with them, but under the stipulation, he gets a job, which he doesn't really want to do.'

Her glossy eyes stare up at me.

Seconds later, she embraces me.

My heart seizes in my chest as she wraps me in her arms, but they don't quite meet together behind me.

Jesus, she's tiny.

'I'm so sorry, Chris.

I had no idea.

What a bitch.' I laugh at this little angel using such a naughty word.

I've never heard her swear, so it surprises me a little, but in a good way.

'I'm better off.

Promise.

Joe can have Josie for all I care.' I skim my hand up and down her back, ensuring that I don't smooth my palm over her plump ass.

She squeezes me tighter, which doesn't bode well for my hard-asnails dick.

I'm painfully aware my balls are hanging heavy and that I'll need to jerk off when I get back to my cottage.

It's not helping that I can feel her hot breath through my apron.

It's as if she's a dragon breathing fire into my chest, or more likely, setting my heart and soul on fire.

Like an idiot, I push my ass out so it doesn't poke her in her tummy.

I need her to stop touching me immediately, so I stop stroking her back and tap her three times to let her know our hug should be over.

It's a fatherly gesture, which is ironic because I have the least fatherly thoughts about her.

What is wrong with me?

'Josie.' She tests my ex-wife's name on her lips, but it comes out sour.

When she pulls back, there's a grimace on her face.

'Where does she live now?'

'Somewhere in South Australia.

He became an oyster farmer the last I heard, and she works at some winery.' I turn back to the bench, focusing on packaging up each of these beauties.

It's an endeavour to make candy canes; if you're not careful, the process can be riddled with mistakes.

It doesn't take long for the candy to harden once coming out of the oven, so while Holly continues to work meticulously on them as fast as she can, I take my time to package the ones we've already finished.

I take extra time to put special Christmas labels on the cello wrapping and tie intricate bows for an added Christmas effect.

'They're adorable,' Holly pants as she picks one up to inspect.

'Could you imagine buying a bunch of these and hanging them on your tree?' The whimsical look in her eyes tells me she's thinking about it right this second.

I stare straight at her side profile.

'It'd be beautiful, that's for sure.' When she turns and sees me staring at her, she blinks and flushes, bruising her lush bottom lip with her teeth.

For the last part of the evening, we find ourselves singing Christmas tunes.

I'm not the least bit shocked that she knows every single lyric, but I certainly have rendered her mute a fair few times when I keep up — especially when I sang Justin Bieber's version of Mistletoe .

By the end of the evening, we're both covered in bits of crystalised sugar and have worked up a sweat from being near the ovens.

Sticky and hot, I can't help thinking about licking each particle off Holly's delectable body.

Part of her hair sticks to her neck, and it's making me wonder if this is how she looks after a filthy round of sex.

To distract my wayward thoughts while we clean, I strike up some more quick conversation starters.

Gloria stuck her head in a while ago to tell us she rang up the till and cleaned the coffee machine.

Truthfully, I don't trust my intentions toward her and feel out of my depth without anyone else being a buffer.

'While we finish up, why don't you tell me what your ideal Christmas looks like?' I go to clean the workstation as she sorts out the industrial dishwasher.

'How long do you have?' she sighs wistfully as she loads the moulds into the dishwashing slots.

In hindsight, maybe she should have scrubbed down the bench because bending over with her succulent ass out makes me want to ride her like a sleigh.

I bite my fist as she continues to punish me with her behind.

'As much time as it takes to hear your answer,' I croak, covering it with a cough.

'I don't need to be anywhere fancy for Christmas.

Here is pretty enchanting anyway, but when I think about the days before Christmas, I think of going ice skating in ridiculous matching scarves and jumpers with either my partner or, eventually, with our kids.

I'm talking about the full-on ugly woollen sweaters with snowmen on them.’ A beautiful blush tints her cheeks as she takes a quick peek in my direction.

I’m holding on by a thread as she continues.

‘Afterward, I imagine we'd stop off here or somewhere like here and drink the best hot chocolate with a tonne of marshmallows.

Our home would be decorated weeks ago, so I wouldn't have to stress about that, but I think I'd worry about disappointed little faces on the day not opening a mountain of presents, so I'd probably dash to the shops to buy more.’ She closes the dishwasher with her hip and starts pressing buttons to start the cycle.

I’m mesmerised as she continues to paint the precise picture of how Christmas should be.

‘On Christmas Eve, we'd open all the Christmas cards we received from friends and family and display them on the mantelpiece above the fireplace.

Of course, I would also make my family wear matching clothes, which we'd send out to anyone and everyone.'

She's stirring up images I shouldn't be having about her, like us being married and having children that have her angelic features.

'Once the kids are asleep after watching at least three Christmas movies together in matching pyjamas, I'd curl up beside my husband and watch the fire crackle.

This is where the eggnog would come in.

Fast forward to the actual day of Christmas.' I'm intrigued by why she's skipped the rest of Christmas Eve, but if her nervous ramble is anything to go by, it's because she ends the night riding a certain candy cane.

'I would make a breakfast feast with waffles and pancakes because having both is life, and then we'd sit around the tree opening presents before I make a huge baked lunch for everyone.

The home would smell like mulled wine, cinnamon, peppermint, and, of course, pumpkin and gingerbread.

It would be everything sweet and delicious.

If I'm not too busy in the kitchen, I think I'd like to have a snowball fight or build a gingerbread house.

Oh, oh, maybe we could even go carolling?'

I'm under her spell as her eyes light up at the prospect of this becoming her future.

Little does she know that she's stolen my brain's own Christmas fantasy.

Mine used to be like that with my parents, but when I married and had Cole, neither my wife nor my kid shared the same affinity.

We had to factor in the in-laws, and nothing ever seemed to be good enough for the both of them.

I hum as I daydream, living out all of Holly's fantasies.

'Sounds amazing,' I murmur.

'It does, doesn't it?' Myrrh shines in her eyes.

'What about yours?' She shifts back and forth on her feet, again drawing my attention to her oversized chest as the top half of her wobbles.

'You pretty much smack bang hit the nail on the head with what my ideal Christmas looks like.

I'd love nothing more than to return to those days my parents created for me while growing up.

I wish Cole were even the tiniest bit interested in the holiday, but all he wants to do is play video games and go out.

He doesn't even bother telling me what he wants for gifts anymore; he just asks me to transfer his money to his account.

It's woeful, I know.' I sound abysmal, and I must look it too because sadness has crept across her face when I look up.

After my woe-is-me Christmas traditions, we finish in companionable silence.

When we leave, I go to open the door, but before we both have a chance to exit, she freezes abruptly mid-step.

'What is it? Did you leave something behind?'

She shakes her head adamantly and looks up.

Above us is a sprig of mistletoe I tied to the door earlier today.

I wanted every couple who walked in here to spread Christmas joy.

Now, I’m not so sure this was such a good idea.

'Oh.'

'Bad luck befalls on the person who rejects the kiss, and I really don't want any more bad luck this year.' Her voice is barely above a whisper as she casts her eyes down to our feet.

There's no way I'm missing a chance to kiss Holly.

It might be the only time my lips collide with some part of her.

'Holly, honey, it would be my honour to give you a little kiss.

Would you like one on your forehead or your cheek? You choose.' Those are definitely not the body parts I want to kiss, but again, I need to reign in my obsession and affection for her, not only because she's my son's ex-girlfriend or because she's twenty-one, but because I'm also her boss.

I watch as her tongue hits the inside of her cheek as she contemplates my choices.

'Cheek, please.

Kissing my forehead reminds me of my dad.' She shudders.

Well, that's the last thing I want her to think about in relation to me.

'Cheek it is then, honeybunch.' It only takes seconds for my lips to collide with her supple cheek.

I let them linger longer than appropriate, intoxicated by how sweet she smells.

I reluctantly pull back.

'Thank you,' she says softly, touching her skin where my lips have just been.

'You're sweet for indulging me and my silliness.'

'Any time, precious.' I bundle up in my coat and scarf.

It's bonechillingly cold tonight.

The wind whips around us while the trees whistle and howl in the distance.

It's genuinely majestic how Cradle Mountain has its own climate outside of typical Australian weather.

'Can you hold my gloves?' I shout over the wind.

She takes my leather gloves from me as I lock the front of the store.

My hands feel like ice when I turn the key in the lock.

I put them to my mouth and blow on them to try and warm them, but it's no use.

With shaky hands, I slip my hands inside the gloves and rub them together for good measure.

I don't live far from here but wouldn't want to walk out in this weather.

'How are you getting home?' I ask, concerned as my car is the only one I see in the lot.

'Oh…um.

I'll walk to the bus stop.' Her body sags and her shoulders droop at the idea of trudging through this rough terrain.

I feel less than comfortable with that plan because of the weather and the wildlife.

We have some beastly creatures in Tassie, like the Tasmanian Devil, that certainly live up to its name, not to mention the wombats around here can get a bit vicious.

God knows what else is lurking in the darkness.

'No way.

I'll take you home.' I don't even wait for her to protest.

Instead, I start walking to my car, feeling increasingly infuriated that she doesn't have her own vehicle.

She deserves something as simple as a car to get from A to B.

She deserves everything.

I only slightly loosen up and exhale a small sigh of relief when I hear the passenger door open and see her slide in.