Good Elf Gone Wrong: A Holiday Romantic Comedy

I’m losing my edge, I decided as I stalked up the drive to Gracie’s house.

I needed to back away. This wasn’t going to end well. Gracie was a means to an end, not someone to fall for.

Yet I had the sense that it was already too late.

I’m falling for you.

I couldn’t completely ghost her—that would be suspicious—but playing hot and cold with her would hopefully break her of the idea that she and I were truly meant to be.

What if the person I was most trying to convince was myself?

Except I wasn’t.

I’m not made for love. My heart is ice.

I was just using her for her information and for sex.

Yeah, that was it.

“The man of the hour!” her uncle called from the den where he and a number of her male family members were watching a hockey game.

“Come watch the game. You want a beer?”

“Sure.” I accepted the offered beverage. “Gracie around?”

“Nope. Off doing wedding stuff.”

We watched the game, though I was too antsy to sit there for long.

All I could do was think about getting that data.

You’ll just have to be patient.

On a whim, I headed down to the basement. On one side was a wine room, on the other more storage. In the back corner, I saw it—a door. It still had her name stenciled on in fading paint.

Gracie.

The hinges were still attached though one looked a little bent.

I carried it upstairs then went back out to the truck, where I’d stashed a toolbox. I headed back into the house and picked up the door, maneuvering it up the small staircase.

It only took me about a half an hour to get her door back on its frame. A little oil and a rubber mallet and it was like it never left.

While I was in her bedroom, I fixed the stiff hinge on the large round window on one of the hexagonal walls and replaced a burned-out light bulb in one of her lamps.

“Hudson?” Gracie said from the doorway as I was inspecting the bottom drawer of her dresser. It looked like it needed a new track. “You’re home.” She didn’t smile.

“Yeah.” I stood up, dusting off my hands, feeling almost like a teenager, unsure what to say to her.

“I wasn’t sure if you were coming back.”

“I told you I was,” I said.

“Where did you go?” She set her bag down on the little makeup table.

“Had to work.”

“In the middle of the night?”

She was waiting for an answer.

Instead, I pulled her inside the bedroom and shut the door.

“You fixed it.”

“Somehow fucking you is better without an audience.”

This is it. This is the last time, I thought as I kissed her, hungry, frenzied kisses, knowing I should savor it but wanting all of her.

I pulled at her clothes, needing to feel her all over me. Her shirt came off and fell to the floor along with my shirt and pants. “You’re wearing underwear this time,” she said, tugging at my boxers.

I tossed them on the floor.

Savor it.

I couldn’t. My mouth was all over her. I needed all of her. I tried to memorize her body, the way she smelled, the little gasps that she made.

I didn’t even wait to take of her bra and panties before I had my fingers in her pussy.

“I need you on my cock,” I hissed, ripping a condom packet and rolling it on.

I pulled her onto the bed with me. I was on my back, her on my chest kissing me as I stroked her through the panties.

“I want to watch you ride my cock,” I whispered to her.

She lifted herself up on her knees.

I pulled her panties to the side, lifted her higher, then impaled her on me.

Her head tipped back, and she let out a long, throaty moan as I thrust up into her. She reached behind her to unhook her bra, letting her breasts hang free. I reached up to play with them, feeling the velvety tightness of being inside her. I gazed up at her as she rode my cock, eyes closed in pleasure, like she knew what I wanted, like we were perfectly in sync, made for each other.

Her hips ground against me in needy circles as she lifted herself up and down on my cock, her pussy clenching around me.

I teased her clit, stroked her, felt her crash over the edge. She came with a cry.

I wasn’t done.

As she panted in my ear, I tumbled us over on her back on the bed, so I could fuck her into the mattress.

“Fuck, Gracie,” I cursed as I slammed into her. “Fuck, I love—”

You.

“—your tight little cunt. Damn. You liked being fucked, don’t you? You like it when I fuck you with my huge cock, don’t you?”

She was making those high-pitched, panting cries as I fucked her hard, my hand clenched on the headboard while she clung to me, taking every inch of my cock.

“Goddamn, Gracie.” I grunted as I came in her, the condom catching the load.

I rested my forehead against hers, stared in her eyes.

I would do anything to stay there with her.

Yet if I actually loved her, I would never see her again.

Even though I’d rather tear out my own fingernails than live without her.