Mistlehoe

Chapter 7 - A Christmas Horror Story

Holly Seconds ago, my whole world came crumbling down like a failed gingerbread house.

The uttering of my name plundered me into my very own Christmas horror story.

As I lay catatonic from the revelation that Noel is actually Chris — aka my boss, aka my shithead ex-boyfriend's dreamy and irresistible father, aka the man of my dreams — I start to hyperventilate silently.

He clears his throat once, then twice, but neither of us moves.

It's like we're frozen in time.

As the seconds pass, it feels like minutes.

I'm suffocated in a blanket of intolerable awkwardness.

The excruciating realisation of what we've done almost causes me to convulse, but I don't dare move because if I did, it would mean this is really real, and I can't comprehend any of this.

'Holly,' He whispers in regret and confusion, removing his palm from my ass.

The severity of what we've done dawns on me.

'No.

No.

No.' My lips start quivering, as does the rest of my body.

I bury my head into the pillow, wishing it would just suffocate me. 'Holly.'

'You ate my pussy.' 'Holly.' 'I've tasted your cock.' As the memories flood me, I burrow my head further into the pillow.

'Holly.' Why is he so fucking calm right now? 'Your fingers have been inside me.' 'Holly.' Am I losing it? Yes.

Do I care? No.

'Oh my God, you ate my ass.' I can hear how maniacal I sound.

'Holly.' He tries again, shifting on the mattress.

The springs protest and groan under his weight.

'You…your…cock was just inside me.

Oh my god, we just had sex!'

'We did not just have sex,' he growls as if I offended him.

The heat of his body radiates off him, and I can feel it warming up the chill of my bones.

'We kissed,' I whisper as if that's the most sordid and depraved thing we've done.

'Holly.' There's so much anguish in his unspoken words, which I feel, too.

It's not like I have any modesty left, but what little I have, I take off my mask to face the music, so to speak, and I grab one of the towels and wrap it around me.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I inhale, hoping oxygen will somehow make my brain work.

I can't even look at him because he, too, is as naked as I am.

'This cannot be happening,' I think out loud.

'You're telling me,'he mutters.

He rakes his hands down his face as if he's hoping to scrub the memories of us away.

'How?' I croak, shaking my head in utter despair and dismay.

A tendril escapes my haphazard topknot, and I swiftly pull the strand behind my ear.

'Can we start with why you're on there?' Me? What about him? 'Why are you on there?' I shoot back accusingly.

He takes a deep breath before sighing and looking up at the roof.

It hasn't escaped me that neither of us has glanced at each other since he uttered my name.

'Do you really want to know?' He tears his mask off and throws it on the floor.

'You know what my pussy feels like.

I'm pretty sure the truth is the only thing we have left,' I groan.

Any sort of embarrassment I've been feeling is slowly seeping away, knowing he probably feels the same.

Waiting for his answer feels like waiting for Christmas morning and for Santa to visit.

Nervous butterflies swarm inside my stomach, making me nauseous.

'I haven't been able to get you out of my fucking head, and I didn't know any other way than to relieve that…tension.

I thought this would be a fun and discreet app that could satiate those cravings.'

I'm gobsmacked.

Did the butterflies somehow get bigger because I swear my stomach and heart and every organ is about to drop out of my body at his confession.

He said I was consuming his thoughts, right? Or something to that effect? Opening my mouth like a fish out of water, I finally stare at him and find he's looking straight back at me.

'Why Mistlehoe then?' His brows furrow.

'Because I love Christmas.' Of course, his justification is feasible.

'Your turn.

Why are you on this app?'

I can only imagine all the horrendous things he's thinking about me.

'Because I'm horny all the time around you,' I grumble shamefully.

If he's going to be truthful, I might as well be too.

'Why?' There is no accusatory tone, which I'm thankful for.

'Because I crave everything about you.

Have since the first time we met.' I gulp, knowing how wretched that sounds.

At that exact moment, I swallow my tongue as he gets up and slips on his jeans sans briefs.

He leaves the button undone, letting me peek at his happy trail.

I can't be sure, but there's a definite bulge in his jeans, and if I'm not mistaken, he's getting hard or is hard.

I gulp audibly at the effect.

Coupled with him being shirtless and his gorgeous face and beard, I feel weak and wobbly.

I thank my lucky stars I'm sitting down, otherwise I'd feel woozy at seeing him.

He knowingly smirks at me.

I look away as quickly as possible, hating how under the influence he makes me feel.

I fiddle with the hem of the fluffy cotton towel, drawing his eyes to my creamy upper thighs.

Biting his lip, he nods in understanding, but his eyes are still laser-focused on the apex of my legs, and judging by the pool of black lust in his eyes, he's thinking about what's underneath.

'Holly.' I hate how he says my name.

Where's all the sweet platitudes and cutesy nicknames he's been calling me? All I hear now is pity.

'This is so.

I have no words.' 'I know.'

'Tell me what we're going to do?' I plead, my eyes darting frantically to his.

He takes a huge breath and exhales it ever so slowly.

'Was I your first? On the app?' I nod, which pleases him if the twinkle in his eye is anything to go by.

'And you're going to continue the app?' he susses me out.

Again, I nod.

He looks up to the roof, making his incredible body flex and go taut in all the right places.

He's a similar age to my dad, and there is no way he's packing a body anywhere near what Chris is.

Those pesky butterflies are back, fluttering more furiously than ever.

'Holly, what was it about mine…that made you?' He trails off, not understanding my insatiable desire for being pleasured.

'This is mortifying.' I cry, putting my hands on my head.

My little outburst lands him at my feet on his knees.

When he touches my thigh, hot tingles shoot up and down my body.

His hands.

The same hands that have slapped me, fingered me, and done insanely wicked things to me are on me, and I can't seem to get enough.

Him being so near only intensifies my need and want for him.

Now, without the mask, I can distinctively smell his signature spicy sweetness, and there's definitely more than a hint of sex.

When he starts rubbing the outside of my thighs and gazes up at me with adoration and lust, I'm under his spell again.

This is beyond wrong, but it feels completely right.

It's fucking with my head.

'Talk to me.' His voice is gentle and soothing.

'I'm going to sound like the hugest slut.'

'And you don't think I look like the biggest pervert.

I think we're past any form of decency right now.' He chuckles, which unknots the ball of knots in my chest.

I avert my eyes from his swirling, rich amber ones.

'I haven't…you know…exactly explored a lot.

I'm not very experienced but I've always had a high…you know.'

'Sex drive?' He assumes.

'Yeah.

And I thought, what more could I want than to have fun and try all the…sordid things I wanted? No strings attached and just filthy fun with the bonus that it was all fun and dirty Christmas stuff.'

When I peek down at him, I see that he's grinning like a Cheshire cat.

He cannot be irresistibly cute right now.

I won't survive him.

'Stop looking at me like that.' I say pointedly, swirling my finger in front of his handsome as fuck face.

He drops the smirk, lips turning down.

'You're right.' His aggravated tone tells me he's just as frustrated at this clusterfuck situation as I am.

His hands are still on my thighs, and it's doing something to my brain.

When my eyes dart down to them, he notices them but doesn't move them.

'What do we do?' I huff.

'For once in my life, I don't know.' He stretches his neck, making it crick.

'Can we just forget this ever happened?' I say exasperated.

He shakes his head.

'I won't forget the taste of your cunt until the day I die.' A wildfire spreads rapidly through my body.

Chris' dirty talk has to be up there with some of the best things on the planet.

It's so fucking hot.

I'm bashful and don't know what to say to him, so I change the topic.

'Are you going to keep using Mistlehoe?' I have an urgent need to know.

'Are you?' He cocks his eyebrow.

'Yes.

It's fun, and I'm addicted to the orgasms or the ones you give me anyway.' He doesn't say anything for a while.

He just stares.

I move my mouth out of nervousness at his silence.

'Stop moving your mouth like that, or I swear to God I'm going to blow.' His little outburst diffuses some of the tension.

Despite the awkwardness, I bite my lip to stifle a laugh at how candid we both are.

Unable to help myself, I glance at his erection and raise both my eyebrows in appreciation.

'Look, you're going to think I'm just a huge slut…but I'm going to keep using Mistlehoe, and we're just going to have to be adults about this and forget we even know each other is on it.' I am so freaking proud of myself for laying down what I hope is the law.

I expected Chris to be mad at me or kick up a stink, but instead, his lips curled up into a smile at my sassy outburst.

'Fine.

For the record, I don't think you're horrible.

I think all sorts of things about you, but none of them are negative.

If you're going to keep using it, so am I.'

My heart stutters.

My stomach lurches.

I don't want him to use it.

The thought of another woman touching him makes me want to vomit.

As much as I want to tell him that, I can't without sounding like a desperate, jealous psycho, so instead, I focus on the other part of his sentence.

The one I know will keep me crazy aroused for days.

'What sort of things do you think about?' My voice comes out way too husky.

It's basically the voice you'd hear a call girl use.

I'm mesmerised by his words and entranced by the crow's feet around his eyes.

His lashes are long and thick, causing his gorgeous liquid whisky eyes to stand out even more.

His brows are still dark as coal, but his hair and beard have specks of stunning silver.

I love the comb-over he sports—like he's clean but also rough around the edges.

The full beard adds to his rugged handsomeness, and God, does it feel good between my legs.

'That you're incredible.

You are incontestably sexy, smart, and sassy, but you are sweet and kind and remind me of what it feels like to be happy and at home.

I'm a grade-A jackass for even having the thoughts I do about you since you're my son's ex-girlfriend.

I definitely shouldn't be thinking I want to fuck you into Christmas, considering you're my employee, but there's this addictiveness about you that has captivated me ever since you walked into my store with your resume all those months ago.

You've been this temptation.

This sin.

This angelic siren that I haven't been able to get out of my head.

You're this forbidden taboo tiny tease that I want to break all the rules for.'

Without a pause, I lunge forward and press my lips to his.

It's erotic and life-affirming.

That is the sweetest thing anyone in the history of my world has ever said to me.

He is perfect.

He is my perfect.

I don't care if we're forbidden.

I don't care if it's taboo.

I don't care that he could be my daddy.

My mews come out thick and fast, especially when he digs his fingertips into my thighs.

I need this man more than my next breath.

'Baby.' His voice is dripping in horniness, and unfortunately, it crashes me back down to reality that I'm not only kissing Chris, my boss, but also I'm kissing my ex-boyfriend's father.

'Shit.

Shit.

Shit.' I pull away.

'I'm sorry.

I didn't…I got carried away.

Fuck.

We can't do that again.' But I want to.

I want to keep doing it forever.

Realisation dawns on him as well.

'You're right.

But damn, honey, I want to.' He steals the thoughts from my own heart and head.

'I would…Goddamn it, I would kiss you until my last breath if you weren't my employee, or my son's ex-girlfriend, or half my age.' I jerk at his last reason.

'My age bothers you?'

'I feel like a dirty bastard.' 'In a good way or a bad way?' 'Both.' I nod in understanding.

There's nothing left to say.

As he slumps back on his heels, I have enough space to manoeuvre around him and put on my clothes.

'I'm going to take a shower and get dressed.

I can't believe I'm asking this, but can you take me home? I was going to catch a taxi or Uber, but you're here.' After tonight's revelation, I'm exhausted and brain-dead and just want to get home, get under my covers, and curl up and cry.

'Of course.' He pulls his shirt over his head, and for some reason, the reverse stripping has me hot all over.

It was such a manly move.

As I walk toward the sub-par bathroom, there's only one more thing left to say.

I turn back, making sure nothing is left unsaid.

'So, we agree we're never going to discuss this again and avoid each other on the app?' I just want to hear we're on the same page, even if none of us want to be.

He nods absentmindedly like he isn't too happy about it, but there is nothing else we can do.

It was orgasmic while it lasted.

? Newsflash: we both cave within the week.

As much as we tried to stay out of each other's way, there was this underlying sexual tension that was suffocating us.

My moral compass flew out the window pretty much as soon as he dropped me home after our tryst.

I started wearing red lipstick and a little Santa hat as Christmas drew near.

It wasn't meant to be a temptation, but Chris made it clear just how much it affected him.

It has been an excruciatingly long day at work.

After flipping the open sign to 'closed' and pulling the curtains down, he slams me against the door and holds my wrists in his so I can't budge.

I squeeze my eyes shut and take a steady breath.

'Do you know how much I want your mouth on my cock, my delicious little doll? How hard I am for you?' My heartbeat quickens as he stabs his erection into my stomach.

I'm so little compared to him that I need to stare up at his predatory face.

The way he towers over and consumes me ruins every other guy before and probably after him — including his son.

His thick bulge presses into me, reminding me of the exquisite damage it can do to my tiny holes.

Every one of my senses is heightened, having him near me.

His spicy cologne wraps around me and muddles my thoughts.

When I peer up at him, I know that, without a doubt, this man is dangerous to my health.

His smirks are downright lethal, and he's giving me one right now, which doesn't bode well for my soaking pussy.

'It's the same for me,' I give in, dropping my head in defeat.

'What are we going to do?' I ask in anguish.

He takes a moment to brush his lips to mine, stealing my soul and a moan from my mouth as he dominates me in every way.

'Meet me on Mistlehoe tonight.'

When he pulls away, I stabilise myself against the door to keep myself upright.

Once agreeing, I let myself out.

The cold night air is a welcome relief from the flush that has taken over my entire body.

I'm always damn flustered by this man.

When I get home, I bounce on the bed and open the Mistlehoe app.

Eagerly, I scroll through my messages, but none are from Chris.

After a few anxious minutes of staring at my phone, I know definitively that this is what it feels like to watch paint dry.

Trying to distract myself, I start humming to Taylor Swift's Lover.

It's not a typical Christmas song, but it has Christmas in the first line, and it's Taylor Swift.

After another painstaking half an hour of updating and rearranging the apps into folders on my phone and writing my list of groceries in the reminders app, there is a ding from Mistlehoe.

Fumbling, I finally find the green and red inconspicuous app and tap it open.

NoelWithTheBigPole: I can't stay away from you anymore.

NoelWithTheBigPole: I don't want to.

A soft gasp and sequel tears from my lips.

As I thump my head back on the pillow and kick my legs like a giddy girl, I think about what I want to reply.

CandyForYourCane: Me either.

That's cool, right? Like nonchalant, cool, and not too desperate? Holy hell, I can't believe we're doing…whatever we're doing!

NoelWithTheBigPole: Let's just get it all out of our system, then? When we're at work, you're Holly, and I'm Chris, and when we're on here or meeting up, I'm Noel, and you're Candy?

CandyForYourCane: Will you see anyone else on the app?

It has been the one tiny thing niggling at me.

NoelWithTheBigPole: Hell no.

Why would I when I have you? What about you?

CandyForYourCane: I don't want to do anything with anyone else…unless you're there.

Had I just agreed to a full-blown affair with my ex-boyfriend's dad? Yup.

Was I aching for Chris' cock. Yup

Am I on Santa's naughty list this year? You bet.

Am I going to hell? Most likely.

Did I care? Not a damn bit.

NoelWithTheBigPole: What's next on your naughty list, sugarplum?

CandyForYourCane: I love it when you call me all sorts of different names.

Is this weird? Are you sure you want this?

The more the bubble burst, the more I doubted our arrangement, but it wasn't enough to deter me from ending it.

My body needs this.

Needs him.

My head is telling me to abort the entire thing, but my body and heart are screaming the opposite.

NoelWithTheBigPole: I want you.

What dirty Christmas fantasy can we tick off together, baby girl?

CandyForYourCane: A White Christmas…

Three dots appeared.

Disappeared.

Reappeared and disappeared again.

My heart is going into cardiac arrest the longer he makes me wait.

Holding my breath, my lungs start to burn.

NoelWithTheBigPole: Leave it with me, angel.

Blowing out the biggest exhale still doesn’t subside my dizziness.

Him making this fantasy a reality only floats me further up into the clouds, making me drowsy until sleep finds me.