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Again, she rocks against my lap, my rapidly hardening dick joining back in on the fun.
How the hell I’ve been able to go from soft to hard so fucking fast, I’ll never know.
“I’m a fucking voyeur, Saint. Of course it turns me on. It doesn’t matter if it is a man or a woman touching Noel, doesn’t matter if it is one night of mind-blowing fun or a long-term deal where we’re all equals.” Holly twists in my lap, tossing a leg over each side to straddle me face-to-face. “Thinking of holding your sweet, little stepsister—her back against my chest as you continue to rock into her again and again.” She presses her chest flush against my own, leaning in to graze her teeth down the side of my neck in a near-painful ecstasy. “I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about it time and time again since Noel first mentioned you’d be here for the holidays. I just never expected it would actually be an option.”
I study her face for a moment, not giving anything away that’s going on in my own mind. It makes her nervous, her weight slightly shifting in my lap.
Or maybe she’s just trying to find more friction? Trying to find a way to grind what is surely a pretty, greedy little pussy against the growing length in my pants.
But it doesn’t matter what I say to my sister. At this point, I don’t think there is anything I can do to bring her back from the crushing blow I dealt to her less than an hour ago.
As if she can read my thoughts, Holly speaks once again, a hand coming up to run through my hair while she looks me in the eye with a cautious optimism I don’t quite feel myself. “I took a bath with her while we were upstairs. I got her changed into something comfortable and told her I was coming back downstairs to make dinner for us—that she should rest and I’d come to get her when it was time to eat. Go to her, Saint. Show her that you can be everything she wants you to be—even if just for one night.”
I stare back in shock at what I think she is insinuating. “You want me to go upstairs and fuck my sister. Without you?”
“Do you remember what it was like growing up with the last name Klaus?” When I don’t immediately answer, she continues—as if she was hoping I wouldn’t. “Trust me, I get it more than most. Do you know what it was like to grow up with the last name Yule?”
The name smacks me right in the middle of the forehead like an icy snowball that you know will leave a mark. “You’re Holly Yule?”
With a flourish of her wrist, she gives me a mock bow from her perch atop my lap. “The one and only.”
If the Klaus family name is synonymous with Christmas toys, the Yule family is the exact same—only their name conjures images of priceless antique glass baubles and bows that usually become family heirlooms being passed down from generation to generation. Their year-round Christmas window display on Fifth Avenue makes national headlines for its over-the-top grandeur at least once a year, usually in the weeks leading up to the busy Christmas shopping season.
Holly doesn’t let her family’s surname sink in for long before she continues once again. “I grew up on my own. Sure, my mom and dad are still together—still going strong when countless people have betted against them over the years. But that’s the thing, Saint. My mom and dad—they have each other and the business that was passed on to my father just like it was passed on to his father before him. They never wanted a little bough of Holly. Never cared if I was naughty or nice. That loneliness I felt growing up? You felt it too, Saint, didn’t you?” I nod, my head moving on its own accord at her voodoo magic words that hit me in the chest, the last of my walls tumbling down into a dusty pile of rubble. “And if both of us did, there is a very real possibility that Noel felt it, too. That shestillfeels it.”
God, to be able to feel like I’m something for one night—to feel like I’msomebody. Not just Saint Klaus, heir to the unwanted Klaus toy fortune. Not just a tortuous older brother to the bratty little sister who has forced me to run away in fear time and time again.
Leaning forward, I capture Holly’s lips with mine for the first time. It’s a thank you and a promise all rolled into one. It’s the knowledge that tonight, the trio of us will feel anything but alone. That despite our last names and the situations that are stacked against us—that prevent us from being our true selves as we were engineered to be by some higher power—that tonight, we can have it all without anything standing in our way.
We break apart, spending a moment with our foreheads pressed tightly to one another. We speak without words, without apprehension or disdain for one another.
And finally…fuckingfinally…I see that showing up here a few days early and running into these two beautiful women who have many more layers I’ve yet to uncover is exactly where I want to be this Christmas.
The room isdim when I enter, the glow from a nearby salt lamp the only light to lead my way. Quietly, I close the door behind me, only sparing a moment to look around the oversized room before I pad across the floor in an equally as silent movement.
I’m not sure how I ended up in what appears to be a room for an eighty-year-old geriatric, but the room Noel and Holly have chosen for themselves is as different as night and day.
Large windows line one wall, their black-out curtains drawn to protect against the sun that has yet to begin its nightly descent, making way for the moon to come out and play. The four-poster bed, at least a king–if not larger–sits proudly against the far wall of the room, soft gray linens piled high to protect against the bitter, often frozen landscape just outside the front door to the chalet masquerading as a cabin.
In the middle of the bed, I can barely make out the form of a body under the layers of blankets—the form lightly rising and falling with each breath my sister takes. I watch her easy movements, the steady inhale and exhale, taking some solace in the fact that she is resting, while silently resenting myself for bringing her so much hurt over the years since we were thrown together with no help from the adults in our lives.
We were never set up for success as a family—as brother and sister—and it has done nothing but hurt us in the long run.
The mattress dips below my weight as I sit next to her, nearly chuckling at her adorable appearance when my eyes land on her face. Her hair is styled similarly to Holly’s, pieces of corkscrew curls hanging around her face as if they escaped the locked prison of the hair elastic. Her mouth is slightly parted, a light snore escaping with every third breath she takes. Impossibly long eyelashes fan out over her cheeks, and in this moment, she looks at peace.
Trying my hardest not to wake her just yet, I gently move the blankets from around her, drawing in a shuddered breath when I see what awaits.
Noel Belle—bane of my existence, temptress of all teases, sassy sexpot on legs—is wearing one ofmyshirts.
It’s an old shirt, one of the few shirts left over from my days at college. It must have been forgotten two years prior when I fled our Hampton home in haste, desperate to get away from the temptation I so misguidedly saw as hatred.
But now, as she lays in front of me in a thin, navy shirt with my alma mater scrawled across the front in large, block letters, I know that Holly was right.
Noel was never testing me because she wanted me to get in trouble. She was never trying to tease me or torment me. She simply wanted someone to give her the attention she so desperately needed as a young girl. Even now at eighteen, it’s almost smack-me-in-the-face obvious. I only hate that it took another person to point it out to me, to open my eyes to the fact that perhaps, while my darling little stepsister does have the tendencies of almost every brat I’ve ever tamed, she was simply in need of the most basic of human needs—attention and affection.
Even more shocking is how much I craveherattention and affection now that I understand the motives behind her actions.
With my mind made up, I slide under the blankets next to her before pulling her close to my body. Noel is beyond warm—her skin toasty to the touch from the multiple blankets piled high on the bed—and the thought of sliding into her cunt while she’s just as warm between the legs yet still fast asleep flashes through my mind.
