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I crack open the door to my bedroom, exhaling when I don’t hear any sound coming from the common areas of the house. It’s been nearly an hour since I’ve heard the voices and giggles of my stepsister and Holly, and at nearly four in the morning, I’m thankful I seem to finally be in the clear. Of that, my mind and still impossibly hard cock seem to be in agreement.
Still, I’m quiet upon approach.
The living room, which previously stood bare, is now covered in Christmas decorations as if Santa’s elves descended from the North Pole to cast magic over the cabin. A large tree stands proudly in the middle of the room, wrapped in no less than a million twinkling lights and just as many ornate, glass ornaments in every color of the rainbow. From atop the tree, an angel in shades of whites, creams, and silvers holds a candle in each hand as if beckoning onlookers to admire the tree’s beauty.
My eyes don’t stop at the tree. They take in the faux pine garland and lights that wrap around a railing on the second floor and the multiple figurines of Santa and his helpers that have appeared as if out of thin air. Turning to the opposite side of the room, my gaze sweeps over the fireplace mantel where five stockings hang, neatly spaced in the same colors as the tree’s baubles.
Mom, Dad, Saint, Noel, Holly.
Each name is embroidered in bright white thread, complimenting the patchwork of random fabrics that make up each stocking. As if the names Saint and Noel weren’t bad enough on their own, now we’ve thrown another ridiculous nod to the Christmas season into the fucking mix.
Staring at the stockings, my mind begins to drift once again. Not for the first time since I learned of the relationship between Noel and Holly just several hours ago, I find myself wondering how long the two women have been an item as I continue my slow perusal of the decor that has transformed the space from something cold and sterile to something warm and welcoming. It’s different from the many Christmases of our family’s past, where every knickknack and strand of lights was put in the perfect position by a company hired to trim our trees and deck our halls. There were no macaroni-covered ornaments, handmade by tiny hands in school. No uneven clumps of tinsel hanging from wilting pine branches after hours spent finding the perfect tree, and no time spent with one another as we hung ornaments while watching stop-motion cheesy yet classic Christmas movies. Hell, until I was nearly twenty, I never even knew thatDie Hardwas a Christmas movie. Instead, it was fancy cocktail parties and charity galas that Noel and I were often left out of, being shipped to our grandparents for long weekends or turned over to the hired help.
Not to say we were neglected by our parents—because we certainly weren’t. Hell, to this day, neither my sister nor myself have wanted for anything materialistic, and I know we’re extremely lucky for that. There were simply certain times of the year and certain events where it was expected that children would be seen and not heard. With as volatile a relationship as Noel and I had, our parents found it was easier for us to not be seenorheard.
I stare out the large, floor-to-ceiling windows that line one wall of the living room, watching as snow continues to fall from the heavens above with no signs of slowing down. Despite the lack of natural and artificial light coming from outside, the inches of snow reflect the moonlight, allowing me to see as far as the edge of the forest that surrounds the property.
As I stand and watch the peaceful sight, I contemplate how different this year already is from the years past—another person added to our often-fraught family gatherings. But even more than my thoughts on how this year will continue to be different, I wonder how Noel and Holly met—if this is the first time they have spent a holiday together, if my parents have met Holly before, and how they reacted to my sister coming out to them. I rack my brain, wondering why I spent years pushing my sister away, when maybe I needed the warmth she so freely gave to everyone but me, and fear it is too late to receive the same warmth now.
And perhaps more sinisterly, I wonder what the two lovers look like when they are in bed together, their hot, sweaty bodies rubbing against each other like they did in the jacuzzi mere hours ago.
“Hey there.”
The raspy voice startles me from my thoughts, and I turn to find Holly watching me with curious, blue eyes. I approach, equal parts cautious and speculative myself, crossing from the living room and entering into the kitchen where Holly stands, a mug of steaming liquid in one hand, a bottle of water in the other. Sans robe, she now wears a pair of short red shorts that are tiny enough for her ass cheeks to hang out of the back and a matching tank that barely covers her midriff. Fuzzy, white fur lines the bottom of the shorts and tank, making her look like a naughty little wet dream of an elf. I consciously stop myself from reaching out to trail my finger across the soft fur. Instead, I drop my hand to my side, the digits curling into a fist in some ill attempt at self-perseverance as I take in the matching Santa hat that sits atop her rumpled hair. It shouldn’t make her look even sexier, yet somehow it does.
“After all this time, I finally get to meet the illustrious Saint Klaus.” Her voice is far raspier than I expect. A little rough around the edges just as she appears to be with her tattoos and long, tangled hair. I can’t quite tell if her knotted hair and husky voice are intentional or if it is a result of romping between the sheets—and between the legs of Noel—but I find myself desperate to know the answer. Desperate for more fodder for the late-night fantasies that plague my brain when I’m searching for sleep that never comes. Surely, when I think of Noel in the future—because let’s face it, I think of her often, even if it pains me to admit it—I’ll also be picturing this smoke show of a woman next to her.
Or on top of her…
“The one person who stands between me and the full heart of the woman I love. I have to say, the pictures I’ve seen really don’t do you justice. But then again, that might be due to the barely-clothed women constantly hanging all over you in every single paparazzi picture that tries to steal the focus of the camera lens.”
Christ, if this is how she acts all the time, she’s perfect for Noel. Two beautiful, bratty women desperately in need of a firm hand on the backside in order to curb their less-than acceptable behavior.
Not wanting to deal with her snark on top of what I’ve already been subjected to this evening, I turn, expecting to make a quick retreat back to the small room I’ve been boarded up in all night. Hell, if I have to stay locked away in that room until the near year—away from those two temptresses—so fucking be it.
But Holly’s words stop me in my tracks. “Amazingly enough, every single one of those women resembled your darling little stepsister in at least one way. One week, Noel would be in the tabloids in a pink dress. A few days later and you’d be out with a lookalike—in appearance and fashion. Another time, she’d show up to an event wearing a structured black suit. What’s onPage Sixthe following week? Illustrious playboy Saint Klaus, another stunner on his arm—this time in a structured black suit. I truly am surprised that no one ever caught on.”
“Caught on to what?” I ask, my teeth clenched so tightly at her insinuation that I’m surprised I don’t chip a tooth.
At her silence, I slowly turn toward her and watch as she flashes me a saccharine sweet smile—as if she’s an innocent little girl trying to get out of trouble. But her words are anything but sweet and innocent. “Caught on to the fact that you’re just as hot for your stepsister as she is for you. Tell me, did you play dress-up with your dates? Use them as your very own fantasy fuck-doll? How many times have you accidentally called out her name as you spilled into some random woman’s cunt? Hope you made them all sign NDAs before getting down and dirty.”
I shake my head, trying to desperately comprehend what she is saying—trying to deny the very idea that I only began to accept the moment I saw Noel sitting with her perfectly angelic face tilted up to the sky in the hot tub.
That I desperately want my stepsister.
But I’ll be dammed if I admit that to this woman—a near fucking stranger. Sure, she’s gorgeous, but her long legs and slim waist don’t make her any less dangerous. On the contrary, they make her downright menacing.
If word ever got out that I was attracted to the woman who I grew up next to—that I want to do unspeakable things to her naked body…fuck. It would kill my father’s business. The largest supplier of toys that delivers directly to the North Pole cannot succeed if its entire business model is based on a family scandal. As far as our parents are concerned, as far as society is concerned, we’re as good as blood-related. Saint and Noel, heir and heiress to the Klaus Toy fortune—not that either of us wants what’s ours.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I tell her with a forced laugh, directing my full attention back to the bombshell standing in front of me. For a moment, I imagine what it would be like had we met under different circumstances. Clearly, she has a bratty side, and it’s a side I wouldn’t mind trying my hand at taming.
Holly walks closer to me, eating up the space between us without trepidation. She’s bold, just as bold as my sister. With mere inches between us, she holds my gaze, challenging me to look away first with her bright, blue eyes that remind me of a crystalline sky after a frigid, winter snowstorm. They sparkle with mischief, as if already knowing whatever comes from their owner’s mouth next will likely push me closer to an edge that I know there is no coming back from.
“Sometimes,” she skirts a hand up my chest, covered now only by a thin, long-sleeved cotton Henley, “she calls out your name when she’s asleep.”
My spine goes rigid, and I’m unable to speak. There is no witty retort, no quick comeback to reply with. Instead, I stand stock still, the thought of my sister calling out to me in her sleep driving a chisel deep into the middle of my stone-cold heart.
Holly continues before I can protest. Her fingers continue to trail upward until she wraps her hand around the back of my neck. “At first, I thought it was because you did something that scared her. That she was trying to escape some sick and twisted torture you subjected her to as a child.” Her free hand comes down to palm my cock through my loose sleep pants. She wraps her fingers around my length and squeezes—hard enough that I let out a hiss through my tightly clenched teeth. “When I thought you had hurt her, that you scared such a beautiful, pure woman—well, I wanted to tear your dick off and shove it up your own ass.” Her grip loosens, but she doesn’t let me go. “But then, one night, I really listened as she said your name, and I finally realized that she wasn’t saying Saint because she was trying to escape you. She wasn’t even saying your name at all. She wasmoaningit.”
