Mistletoe & Kisses Read online

  It’s completely unlike me to not worry about scratching the three hundred and fifty thousand dollar machine, but the sound of his buckle jingling erases the concern.

  He palms me briefly. “Always so fucking wet, Sadie,” he says with a mix of admonishment and approval, feeding both sides of who I am. I push my bare ass against him, but he pushes back, so that my hips touch the car. “Not yet. Don’t make me spank your ass red right here. Don’t you fucking tempt me.”

  I take a shaky breath, and it fogs against the grey paint when I exhale. As soon as my lungs are empty, as if he was waiting for it, he powers into me with no warning. He leaves me with no breath to scream, but my body tries. My eyes widen, my mouth opens, but there’s no sound.

  With his withdrawal, my lungs expand. When he doesn’t immediately enter me again, I push back. Smack. Fuck. “Ah!”

  “I told you, you had to wait. You don’t listen for shit.” He grabs my loose hair in a fist and lifts my head off of the car with it. “You have to be quiet now, Sadie. Can you do that for me? No screaming, not this time. These walls echo. If you don’t keep it in, security will be here in a heartbeat,” he rasps in my ear. He slowly enters me again and withdrawals. Testing me. “I would have to stop. You don’t want me to stop, do you, baby?”

  I immediately shake my head as much as I can and am rewarded with a powerful thrust that sends our thighs slapping loudly.

  “That’s what you want, isn’t it Sadie?” He continues to fill me. The angle and my almost closed legs making things extremely deep. Almost unbearably tight.

  A little whimper escapes my closed lips, and he’s gone. I quickly let go of the car to cover my mouth, then he’s back. His pace picks up, his grip on my hair arching my back. I close my eyes and just feel his body as it drills into mine. Sparks shoot off behind my eyelids as his balls slap my clit, over and over, faster and faster.

  There’s a sound that doesn’t belong. A ding. My eyes open to see the elevator doors parting. Batty lets go of my hair to lift me by the waist. My knees bend automatically to hold on the best I can. He stays inside of me to the hilt when he lowers to the ground. My palms smack the ground seconds before it would have been my face. Then he’s got my hair again. My body erupts in goosebumps when his lips touch my ear and he starts moving again, more slowly.

  “Shh. You don’t want them to see you. You don’t want them to make us stop, do you?” I shake my head. His abs roll like a snake down my back over and over as he pushes inside of me. The thought of getting caught, people feet away to give proof that this actually happened, knowing besides the two of us, makes me soar higher. My muscles clench around him, making it harder for him, but he loves it. I know by the small groan I’m rewarded with.

  “Shh,” I say back, barely making a sound as the voices come closer.

  “You’re such a fucking smart ass. So fucking hot when you’re mad.” He pushes in as hard as he was on the hood, and I have to stop breathing so that I don’t yell the parking garage down around us.

  I come with muscle spasms that have me gripping anywhere I can. His thighs do nicely where they’re pressed to the back of mine. I dig my nails in as my body convulses.

  “Your fucking heels are going to leave blood on my ass.” I pull him tighter to me with them, and he hisses. Then he’s coming inside of me, I feel each jet and pulse in the stillness. My eyes open to see under my car as headlights flash over us before turning to the ramp.

  Batty lifts me to my knees with a hand around my waist and pulls up his pants before helping me to my feet. We’re both trying to catch our breath, the only sound the now faint sound of my car ticking as it cools down. Was the hood hot? I don’t even remember.

  I lick my dry lips, pulling my jeans up from around my knees. He hands me my mask before putting his back on. I bend on shaky legs to grab my purse from the floor and look for my keys.

  “Where the fuck are you going?” he asks me. I look up, meeting his eyes.

  “I just came to chew you out. Now I’m out.”

  He chuckles darkly, grabbing my neck and pulling me toward the elevators. “Oh, no. You’re going to go in there and make those kids smile.”

  I stop in my heels that feel too high at the moment. “No, I’m not.”

  His hand fists in the back of my hair, his face getting close to mine as he says softly, “Yes you are. Whether you like it or not, you’re a part of the routine now. They’ll be looking forward to seeing you. So you’re going.”

  He propels me into the open doors and I glare at him. “You need to stop putting your hands on me,” I warn him.

  He advances so fast I crash into the wall as I retreat. “You really want me to stop? Is that what you want, Sadie? Cause I’ll fucking stop putting my hands on you when you stop looking at me like that.”

  Stupid eyes, what are you telling him? I think stupidly.

  “I’m trying really hard not to slap you right now,” I growl.

  He smirks and looks at the doors. “One day you will. But it won’t be today.”

  I know he’s not said anything more truthful to me than those four words. One day you will.

  I both dread and look forward to that day, when I can see his cheek flare with red.

  When the doors open, he leads me to the restrooms. “Go get freshened up, we’re late.”

  When I look at myself in the bathroom mirror, I can only stare. My pretty sleek hair, sans grease, is wild and wet around my neck. My hands are dusty from the cement, so I wash them first, then double over, almost going all the way to the floor as my leg muscles protest. I wrap my hair into a huge knot on my head, then take a scratchy paper towel to my face.

  I don’t realize there’s someone else in the room with me until I hear the flush. An old woman walks out, her face breaking into a huge smile when she sees me.

  “Well my lands, child!” She walks to the sinks and soaps up. “I’ve heard so much about Batman and Robin from my Marcus.” She shakes her head. “He so looks forward to Sundays.”

  I swallow and shift my feet. “Is he in the Oncology unit?”

  Her eyes go sad as she dries her hands. “Oh, yes.” She sighs and gives me another smile. “But you make them smile. And it’s not the where that it happens. It’s the fact that it does.”

  When we exit that bathroom, Batty’s eyes go back and forth between the old lady and me. “You ready?”

  I nod. He keeps watching me, all the way up to the pediatrics ward. Finally I can’t stand it. “What?”

  “Something happened,” he says as we hand over our IDs and sign in, his still illegible.

  I slap the pen down and look up. “Let’s go make them smile.”

  Chapter Ten

  SUNDAY

  It’s been almost two months since I started going to the cancer ward. I’ve met the most remarkable human beings in the world. After I put my conviction behind it that day in the bathroom, I got to know the nurses and doctors. I got to know the parents and patients. I got to know me, too, along the way.

  We’ve lost kids—beautiful, smart, tired little souls who never reached adulthood. We’ve seen the miracle that is remission, and held parties in the great room for the kids who have a chance to grow their hair back. And we’ve made them smile. Every single one.

  Now it’s Christmas, and I make Batty dress as Santa —under duress— in the dead of night to bring in the presents that Jayden picked out.

  “I don’t know why you had to wrap all of them by hand. We could have had someone at the toy store do all of this shit,” Batty Santa grumbles under his beard. Is it weird that I want to fuck him in that suit? Maybe it’s weird.

  That hasn’t stopped. The night of our first fight —of which there have been many— and the sex against my car, I fully expected him to just go home, and I froze outside of those elevators. He obviously knew I had a car. He knew I didn’t need a ride. Was that our code now? Halfway to his car, he turned, his cape catching wind and flaring out behind him. “You coming?” And yes
, yes I did. Every fucking Sunday. That’s what I called them now. Fucking Sundays. Best day of the week.

  “They have to be hand wrapped. These presents were selected, not picked out by some worker bee. Jayden wanted them to have them, so I wrapped every fucking one, and don’t you look at me like that, Batty Santa.”

  He scoffs and licks his lips. The ones I can barely see behind all of the white, but I know that tongue. “It’s those striped tights. Are they thigh highs or do I need to rip something later?”

  Stupid Moorehead and their elf costumes. I was still against being on their logos, but the sparkle in Batty Santa’s eyes were promising me more than candy canes and popcorn at the end of the work day. And I was so down with that.

  “Set this shit up,” I order him, knowing he’ll only do it if he wants to.

  We make several trips back and forth to the van I had to rent to get everything here. When a kid peeks out of their room and spots us, I run to their side to hand them small packages. Most of the kids are on chemo, and I’ve learned that, like Rachel, they can’t eat anything solid for periods of time. Their mouths and stomachs hurt so bad they have to be on morphine.

  No candy for this lot, but the presents look to be overtaking the room. The nurses and doctors come out to chat as we wait for the kids to wake up. Parents add their presents under the tree or take them straight to the rooms. I make sure the caterers bring in the food to the break room through the back entrance so the kids can’t see the things they can’t have.

  “Stop it.”

  I look to Batty Santa and quickly sit on his knee to keep from fidgeting. “When will these kids wake up? It’s already seven.”

  “You’re cute when you’re excited,” he says with a smile.

  I smirk. “You should know.”

  “Mmm. It’s going to be a long day. Don’t start.” He squeezes my waist, then belies his words. “What do you want for Christmas, little girl?”

  I bat my lashes and say in a breathy voice, “Well, Batty Santa . . .”

  “Don’t call me that. It sounds like Daddy Santa.”

  I lower my chin and snap his white beard. “Do you want to be Daddy Santa?”

  He rolls his eyes under his hat. “I’m thirty-one. Not old enough to be your daddy, you kinky little shit.”

  I gasp and cover my mouth. “You’re so old.” I pat his padded chest. “But don’t worry, your balls aren’t very wrinkly yet.”

  “Stop talking.”

  “But it’s Christmas, Batty Santa!”

  “Shut your face before I put them in your mouth.”

  “Promises, promises,” I say, movement catching my eye before I finish the sentence. It’s Chloe. I burst off of Batty Santa’s lap. “Merry Christmas!”

  * * *

  When all of the kids trickle in over the morning, we find their presents and are rewarded with smiles and rosy cheeks. There are several that aren’t marked for the kids that are yet to come in, but all say from Santa and Jayden. Sweet Jayden passed just days before the holiday, but had been back several times on the Sundays we visited before that. He never stopped talking about his takedown at the toy store, always with a smile on his face. He, more than anything kept me coming back, even after he was gone. Our night together in the toy store gave him one moment to relive when he was too weak to get out of bed.

  There were more escapades, more shenanigans—that I pulled off by the skin of my teeth—more memories for these who wouldn’t get to make them without us.

  I crawl around to make sure we got all of the kids who were present, when I find one addressed to me. I triple check it but it still says Sadie/Robin. Can’t mistake that. I look around to the few who are still in the room and find Batty Santa’s eyes on me with a little smile on his face.

  I stand up and walk to him, holding up the present. “Did you do this?” He shrugs.

  When was the last time I got a Christmas present? I remember it exactly. My Gran gave me a tea set.

  I open the paper delicately. With the precise folds, I expect that if he did do this, he had someone else wrap it.

  I place the paper on the floor and stare at the brown box. Batty Santa raises his eyebrows when I look up at him again. Pulling the tape, I see bubble wrap inside. It’s several somethings. I unwrap one in my hand and almost drop it. I gasp, tears flood my eyes. One perfect hand painted china cup rests in my hands. My hands shake, frozen, but my eyes move to the wrapping again. The sticker reads To: Sadie/Robin From: Batty and Rachel.

  * * *

  There was a wardrobe change into our regular Sunday costumes in the back of the van. I’m sure that van was rocking for some time, but luckily for us, we park on the third floor.

  We meet outside of the bathrooms silently moving to where we’re expected to be. We exclaim and play with the new toys for hours when I feel vibrating from my phone in my back pocket. I excuse myself from a makeshift maternity ward we made for the new dolls, laughing as I pull my phone out. It quickly disappears.

  Unknown Caller: Time’s up. Brennick Record, tomorrow 10 sharp.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Brandace Morrow is a full time mom of four, and currently stationed overseas with her sexy soldier. Her recent obsessions are Maroon 5, Luke Bryan, The Pretty Reckless, rum and coke, and reading in no particular order. Despite being terribly awkward with social media, she's everywhere. Frequently subjecting the public to pictures of her minion's messes, and everything that is Momdom in the Morrow house.

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  Dedication:

  For everyone who ever felt like they’d settled in life.

  May you have the courage to seek out

  The spot you deserve.

  “The biggest human temptation is to settle for too little.”

  ~Thomas Merton

  Chapter One

  AS ISABELLA LOOKS over the water for what may be the last time ever, her heart is filled with mixed emotions. She knows this is for the best, but it doesn’t make it any easier. This is the place she always dreamed of making her home. She was ecstatic to move to California, ready for life to become this wonderful fairytale. How did it go so wrong?

  With a deep breath, she stands up and brushes the sand off of herself. When she sees something shiny just out of reach, she slowly walks over and reaches down to pick it up. Her interest is piqued when she realizes it’s a thin metal box, almost like a business-card holder, but sealed. She holds it up to her ear and shakes it. When she hears something, she closes her eyes and wonders what it might be. Without any way of opening it, she just puts it in her bag and heads to the car. When she hits the sand’s edge, she digs her feet in one last time.

  With a heavy heart and tears running down her face, she heads to her car. She’s come to love this town so much, but she’ll never get the chance to move on if she stays. Packing her car full of the things that matter most to her, saying goodbye to the beautiful Southern California coastline, and heading east is the hardest thing she’s ever done. But starting over in a new town, where she doesn’t know a soul, is just what she needs. It’s time.

  Pulling her car out of the beach lot and paying the toll even tears at her heart a little. She appreciates the beauty of the coast so much more now that she’ll never get to see it again. While watching the coast disappear in her rearview mirror, tears still running down her face, she drives away, leaving everything she ever thought her life would be, behind.

  Miles of road and hours of music are starting to make her drowsy. She knew it’d be this way, but she couldn’t think of another option. If she flew, she’d have no car, no belongings, and nowhere to turn. Finally, after what seems like forever, she spots a place to pull off with a gas station and little diner. Fortunately, the parking lot is virtually empty.

  She gasses up the car, and dec
ides to hit the diner for something different to eat. Inside, it’s just as lonely looking as outside. The waitress isn’t friendly and the food isn’t anything to write home about, so she finishes quickly and gets back on the road.

  The lull of driving makes this trip even more difficult, and the vibration of the road threatens to put her to sleep. After ten hours, she makes it to Park City, Utah. Driving up to what looks like the least-expensive hotel she’s seen so far, kills her. She’s never stayed in anything but a five-star hotel. Eric wouldn’t hear of it. He would say that he worked hard to get to the top, so he deserved the best. Obviously, she wasn’t the best.

  Next to leaving Eric, checking into the hotel by herself is probably the hardest thing she’s done. Unsure of what to say to the lady behind the check-in counter, she stumbles over her own words. “I need to check a room tonight.” Shit. “Sorry. I need to get a room for tonight.”

  When the lady behind the counter smiles, her nerves ease a little. The silence she’s met with, however, causes a special kind of rambling, the kind that happens when you are anxious. “I’ve never checked into a hotel by myself. I really don’t know what to say or do.” It’s obvious to everyone around her how nervous she is. “Eric always took care of these things. He took care of everything. I really thought he’d take care of me forever. Well, he might have, but he was busy taking care of a lot of people. Not in the nice way, either. Well, not nice to me, but nice to someone else, I guess.” She talks until she is out of breath. When she looks around, she realizes the every person in the room, all four of them, are staring at her.